After Horn's command was issued, the Child Soldiers and Messengers galloped away, and with the dust raised by the horses' hooves, the previously ironclad formation began to waver.

The quiet battlefield was filled with the sound of whistles, as Brigade Commanders, with flushed faces, brandished their feathered pikes, running back and forth among the troops, striking soldiers who were standing in the wrong positions.

With orderly steps, the Brigade Commanders crossed their longspears, pressing them against the soldiers' chests, scanning from left to right, guiding them into the correct positions and alignments.

The initial horizontal formation transformed into a vertical one in less than five minutes, and within those five minutes, many began to cough.

The effect of the firewood and straw Mizam ordered to be burned at the upper wind point finally took hold.

It was unclear how much firewood and straw they burned, but murky gray smoke rose from afar, covering the entire battlefield like an eclipsing shroud.

Though it wasn't entirely impossible to discern the enemy's position, visibility was noticeably reduced, as if a layer of translucent gauze covered the eyes.

Being downwind, they couldn't use gas canisters to retaliate, so Horn had to instruct Patrick to try dispersing the smoke with a few Wizards from the upwind point.

Picking up the binoculars, Horn squinted towards the enemy formation.

Amidst the gray fog, clusters of black silhouettes emitted strange battle cries, the only light being the flames and light balls rising with the casting of Divine Art.

These silhouettes swayed their bodies, row by row, column by column, their forms discernible but their faces and appearances obscured.

But Horn was certain that after the initial chaos, the Church's ranks were also shifting; they realized Horn was attempting a flank maneuver.

Time to speed up!

"Advance!"

Pointing the Blood Covering Cloud forward, Horn shouted to the adjacent commanders.

With the command given, the earth trembled slightly, fine sand leaped from the ground, landing softly on the grass.

Resting their longspears on their shoulders, supporting the lower end with their hands, the soldiers advanced with an unusual pace.

The standing longspears sliced through the smoke, cutting openings in the gray chaos, ammo pouches on their dark red belts clattering against their moving bodies.

A uniform array of leather boots marched across the ground, no one any longer treasuring their shoes to wear straw sandals, and those who valued money over life had all been scolded into wearing short boots by the Brigade Commanders.

The grass waved its body, swaying side to side with the Salvation Army's steps.

"Left right left, left right left!"

"Keep up, no running!"

"Those who fall walk behind their own Brigade, don't force your way back in."

The orders sounded from the Brigade Commanders as the War Monks huffed and puffed along, faces a mix of exhaustion and tension.

But the War Monks on Horn's side, having fought fewer at Black Mountain Castle, and more from Pavia to here, despite being tense, seldom panicked.

Compared to these War Monks dressed in simple black, the Xiaochi City militia in their brightly colored blue and purple short capes screamed loudly, fearless as ever.

But anyone who had been on the battlefield knew it was mere bravado, a way to alleviate inner fear by shouting.

The Grape beneath him pawed the ground, as Horn raced past the marching infantry's columns on horseback.

The scene of marching on the battlefield flickered past like a revolving lantern, and he frowned, not entirely satisfied.

Most of the time, only the strides of his own Brigade were orderly, sometimes only around the Brigade Commander's body were the steps orderly.

They had to constantly adjust under the Legion Commander's orders to maintain unity with the entire fast-marching formation.

Seems they need a drummer and a flag bearer.

At least, from Horn's perspective, given the current formation's integrity, the War Monks could speed up even more.

Horn continued to gaze into the mist, where the sounds of gunfire and screams indicated that the Holy Gun Cavalry and Kush Knights were already engaging with the Church's cavalry.

The enemy's response was quick too, Horn thought for a moment, then hoarsely issued the order: "Transition to a quick charge step!"

The charge step is an enhanced version of quick march, 120 steps per minute, covering 80 meters—a highly dangerous pace.

Quick march is the normal battlefield marching speed, 50 meters per minute, a quite reasonable speed for maintaining formation while advancing.

But it seemed even quick march was somewhat unreasonable for the accompanying Xiaochi City militia.

Looking at the backs of the Imperial Guard soldiers in their silver breastplates ahead, the Xiaochi City Militia Captain, Baron Kollen, tightened his pace again.

But when he turned, he nearly fainted from anger.

Compared to the orderly Salvation Army Infantry Corps, his Xiaochi City militia behind, though dressed splendidly, moved clumsily like Skeleton Soldiers.

The tail ends of their longspears dragged, scraping the ground, their feet splayed outward, each step sounded like bones clattering.

An uninformed observer might think they would fall apart at any second.

Kollen immediately cursed at his disappointing militiamen: "Stupid pigs, eating the same food, how are you so slow?"

"Can't move, feet hurt so much."

"Why go so fast?"

"They're all wearing leather boots, of course we can't keep up."

The city militiamen shouted ironically, after all, their backgrounds weren't too far removed from thugs or mercenaries, and they had picked up some slippery habits.

"Alright, stop complaining." The noisy voices of the militiamen and mercenaries left Kollen dizzy, "After the battle, I'll buy each of you a pair of good shoes."

"Leather boots!"

"I advise you not to push it!" Kollen's ears turned red.

"Alright." Although they couldn't get more, the city militiamen, spurred on, seemed to transform, lifting their longspears, straightening their chests, and starting to advance rapidly.

To be fair, their marching posture was quite proper, and Kollen nodded in satisfaction, "Catch up... Oh my Saint Master, did we fall this far behind?"

In the time spent delayed, the Salvation Army Infantry that were once door-sized were now just cup-sized.

Even when he switched to a normal pace, he still couldn't quite catch up with the Salvation Army Infantry's dust.

The trembling silver and black of the Salvation Army grew farther, obscured by the straw smoke, barely visible.

Did they just move that fast? How did I not notice before?

"Hey, buddy, slow down, we can't keep up!"

A city militia member shouted at the back of the Brigade Commander ahead, but the man showed no signs of slowing.

The Xiaochi City militiamen, sweating profusely, sensed something was off. They glanced at the Salvation Army they couldn't catch up with in every sense of the word, revealing puzzled expressions.

"Is there really a need to move so fast? Will we still have the strength to fight later?"

"The supply carts are still with us here. Aren't they afraid they'll get stolen?"

"Stop jinxing it."

"Baron Kollen, please send someone ahead to ask."

Left with no choice, Baron Kollen, although reluctant to admit he couldn't keep up with the Salvation Army, was on a battlefield where lives were at stake, so he complied.

Soon, the Xiaochi City militiamen received a reply from Horn.

"His Majesty said, walk faster!"

"That's it?" Kollen widened his eyes, asking with a tinge of hopeful anticipation.

"That's it." The messenger nodded, and without waiting for another question, turned his horse and swiftly darted off the road, leaving Kollen standing dumbfounded.

If we could walk faster, wouldn't we be doing so already? We're just unable to match your speed; hence we asked you to slow down and accommodate us!

If I could walk faster, why would I need to send a message?

As a noble commander who had suffered a major defeat, Baron Kollen had plenty of experience in battles (meaning acting as a mercenary broker).

Because he was a defeated general, he handed over all command authority to that young man under twenty.

Although the early actions made Baron Kollen feel he had made the right choice, now he had some doubts.

Returning with Horn's orders, Kollen rejoined the marching Xiaochi City militiamen. These militiamen were initially startled, then cursed incredulously.

"What a sham of a Saint's Grandson, just a fraud!"

"I'd like to move faster, too."

"Of course, that's obvious! That messenger must've forgotten; have him come back, messenger, come back!"

Kollen rolled his eyes and spotted his fellow comrade-in-arms, Brune, who was also part of the Salvation Army Infantry.

For some reason, the new troop corps led by Brune wasn't moving fast, barely keeping pace with them.

Recalling the information he had heard about Brune's past experiences, Kollen ran over, intending to instinctively hug Brune's neck, but ended up awkwardly wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Brune, my old friend..."

"Mr. Kollen, I don't like men."

Seeing this simple-minded, almost farmhand-like Brune, Kollen cursed inwardly, wondering how they chose this simpleton to be an officer?

"I don't like men either... Brune, my old friend, you're an old guard of the Salvation Army. What exactly does His Majesty mean by asking us to move faster?" Kollen asked with a wry look.

"The enemy infantry forms a large formation, slow in motion. If we want to flank them, we have to be quick." Brune explained seriously to Kollen.

Kollen was about to break down: "Don't I know that? But I said we can't move faster!"

"Then just move faster."

"We can't move faster!" Kollen was almost crying blood, "If I asked you to fly, could you? It's not possible!"

"What you say doesn't count, His Majesty said it, so it can be done." Brune said earnestly, "We just carry out the orders, His Majesty has more to consider, why bother thinking about these things?"

With a belly full of frustration, Kollen returned to his own ranks. Looking ahead, the Salvation Army Infantry in front was about to disappear from sight.

Turning back and spying the sluggish militia who, while complaining about blisters, were barely moving, he gritted his teeth:

"Catch up to them, never mind the formation, follow my lead, anyone who falls behind will have their pay docked, I'll personally sponsor bonuses for those who keep pace! Charge!"

"Alright!"

Amidst the cheers of the militia, Kollen felt his heart bleeding.

"Mr. Kollen, please stop moving forward."

In front of him appeared Brune, who had a calm face, stopping him. Kollen, touching his wallet, asked with a hostile gaze, "What is it?"

"First, halt advancing, we need to form a formation!"

"Form a formation? Form what kind of formation?" Kollen was utterly exasperated, "You were the one who told us to move faster, now to stop and form a formation, I've already spent the money, and you're telling me to stop, are you messing with me..."

Confronted with Brune's emotionless face, Kollen's voice slowly dwindled because he heard a rhythmic thumping sound.

The wind brought smoke swirling, and there was also the sound of metal clashing on armor.

Even the laziest Xiaochi City militiamen felt their hair stand on end.

"Please don't be the Order Company, please don't be the Order Company..." Tilting his head and closing his eyes, Kollen crossed his middle finger over his index finger, praying with a devotion he'd never known before.

The Xiaochi City militiamen, without any commands from Kollen, spontaneously began to form up, spears raised in layers, thick oak round shields positioned in front of their chests.

Their efficiency had never been higher.

Amidst this chaotic formation, a Xiaochi City militiaman looked up, sensing something flash by out of the corner of his eye.

"Swoosh!"

The dark shadow of a giant beast flashed past the militiaman, its longsword swinging up blood, leaving a deep wound down to the bone on the unfortunate man's chest.

He widened his eyes, swayed for a moment, then collapsed softly to the ground, with his viscera and blood pouring out from the wound.

"Wooooo—"

The sound of the horn drowned out all the city militiamen's clatter.

The fluttering banners swept up the swirling smoke, the heavy black armor seemed like demons charging out from a Fire Prison, and all the blood in Kollen's body rushed to his head.

"Order Company!"

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