Chapter 1367 - 1285: The Battle of the Fat Toad (5)

Chapter 1367: Chapter 1285: The Battle of the Fat Toad (5)

"Hiii—ii—ii—"

At eight o’clock on a chilly morning in Imperial Calendar 1463, seven or eight Devil Horses screamed and wailed on a battlefield littered with grapeshot.

As for the Blood Knights in the saddles, they were either turned into sieves by grapeshot or had their necks punched through by lead balls.

Shift the gaze forward and one could see a group of Holy Alliance soldiers in gray‑brown greatcoats over short navy uniforms.

The front rank half‑kneeling, middle rank in a bent stance, rear rank standing, their gun muzzles still breathing faint hot air from metal friction.

Lowering the spyglass, Lakunio turned calmly around and asked in a deep voice, "Roughly how many men is that?"

The captain of the recon cavalry troop answered at once, "Two battle groups, around ten thousand or so, only a small number of attached cavalry..."

"Did you take any prisoners?"

"We did. These two battle groups belong to the southern field army under Dass. They were sent here to block the enemy."

"Ten thousand men, to block our thirty thousand?" Shanluan asked suspiciously. "As I recall, a Holy Alliance field army usually has three infantry battle groups and one cavalry battle group under it. Where’s the other infantry group and the cavalry group?"

"They say those were reassigned to Commander Jeska..."

Shanluan immediately turned his head to look at Lakunio. "I think they’re lying. The Holy Alliance Army has strict discipline—how could they just redeploy units at will?

And this Dass is the cousin of that Saint’s Grandson. You think he’d meekly let someone else shuffle his troops around? Can Jeska even force him?

Even if all that somehow happened, he’s attacking our thirty thousand with ten thousand—that’s suicide.

Jeska is a near‑divine figure in the Holy Alliance Army. He wouldn’t make a mistake that stupid, would he?"

"Then what do you think...?"

"This is probably a trap."

"Why?"

"Dass is obviously some useless commander who rose up through marriage ties. This is bait. If we enter the gorge and get pounded from both sides by enemy artillery... tsk tsk..."

Lakunio frowned but said nothing, instead raising the spyglass again to observe.

The hills flanking Night Cry Gorge blocked the cavalry’s recon range, so he couldn’t be sure whether there were more forces behind this one.

After pondering it, Lakunio snapped his whip. "I’ll go up the mountain and take a look. You start deploying."

"Fine." Shanluan immediately began calling in staff officers to arrange the deployment plan.

A full thirty thousand‑strong force simply could not move as one.

So the first to arrive were these several thousand Blood Knights and the vampires’ own Cuirassier Cavalry.

Behind them were two more five‑thousand‑strong legions, with another four or five legions straggling up in the rear.

And they weren’t even arriving legion by legion, but battalion by battalion, drifting in piecemeal.

And once they arrived, they had to re‑form again before they could be thrown into battle.

That kind of split‑march, then snap‑together‑for‑assault style Jeska uses—vampires simply can’t pull it off.

Don’t underestimate marching and forming up. It looks simple, but once you actually run it, it’s a pile of headaches.

Only the Holy Alliance, with its abundance of officers and staff, can really make it work; otherwise they’d bog down too.

For example, the reason the vampire legions still hadn’t arrived was that they’d literally hit a traffic jam.

The baggage and supply wagons of the first two legions were blocking their route, and assorted battalions from different parent units had gotten mixed together.

"A tangled ball of yarn" in the most literal sense was the best description of the Royal Court army’s current marching situation.

Ranks of vampire soldiers in scarlet autumn uniforms (vampires have excellent cold resistance but hate heat), shouldering Blood‑Pact guns, trudged between road and stream.

Dozens of high‑ranking vampires on tall horses, encased in black‑lacquered armor, swung their whips to drive them on.

The vampires’ measured steps carved furrow after furrow into the snow, like plow lines across a winter field.

Yet at a glance, it still looked like a complete mess.

Just as Shanluan was scrambling to assign positions to the various legions and envoys, Lakunio returned.

Only he’d gone out vertical and was coming back horizontal.

He was laid flat on a door board, face to the sky, carried by two guards, clutching his belly, his face covered in blood.

Seeing the cavalry hurrying back with the stretchered Lakunio, Shanluan’s already sallow‑dark face went even darker. He barked harshly, "What happened?"

The guards looked about ready to let their faces slide off their skulls. "A few huntsmen launched a disgraceful surprise drain on Lord Lakunio..."

Shanluan stepped closer and saw one bloody hole in Lakunio’s belly and two in his face.

Judging by the look of it, plus Lakunio’s breathing technique, it probably wasn’t fatal—yet.

"Don’t blame them. I got too close." Lakunio accidentally swallowed a mouthful of blood as he spoke. "We can fight—cough, cough, cough..."

"What?"

"I don’t know why, but they have at most twenty thousand, and they’re cut off from their main force. We can fight them—and we have to do it fast!"

With his teeth and tongue shot through, Lakunio’s words came out slurred, with a nasty hissing leak of air.

Shanluan had to make him repeat himself twice to be sure before he let Lakunio be carried off.

Even so, he couldn’t help doubting Lakunio’s judgment.

After all, the man was wounded. What if Shanluan had misheard, or Lakunio had simply misjudged?

If he asked Lakunio to write it down, there was no time; on the last repetition the man was almost half‑conscious as he muttered those words.

Human bodies are too feeble. He shouldn’t have stayed human.

Shaking his large, flabby head, Shanluan called in his staff officers. "Get ready. We’ll pound them with artillery first, then send the cavalry in front, infantry to follow."

"Do we have the cavalry sweep around both flanks?" a Corps Commander couldn’t help asking.

Shanluan shook his head, his expression grave. "We have no idea where their cavalry is. We could easily get counter‑encircled."

"Understood."

......

Mounted on a tall horse, with the morning haze already thinning, Dass frowned as he watched the enemy before him.

This should be a Royal Court force sent to reinforce Jeska’s main battlefield, about fifteen thousand men by the look of it.

But what the hell are those ragtag elements straggling in? Auxiliaries?

Entering Night Cry Gorge, there’s a pass at Shrockson—really more of a little rise—perfect for Dass to use reverse‑slope tactics.

After Aleksei’s reverse‑slope tactics were successfully applied, they’d quickly spread through battle reports to every battle group, and on the Senior Pastor’s orders were studied line by line.

The Holy Alliance Battle Group’s tactical toolbox was stuffed with tricks; beyond routine study and drills, they relied on this system of rapid dissemination and adoption of effective tactics.

Basically, once one battle group developed some tactic and used it successfully,

within half a year more than seventy percent of the battle groups could apply it fluently.

Standing on the Shrockson Pass, Dass watched the artillery and cavalry drawing closer, then, at his adjutant’s urging, slowly pulled back.

"Get ready. This should be just a rear‑guard corps," Dass shouted to the Battle Commanders and Corps Commanders. "The enemy has cavalry—hold first, then counterattack. If we wait until Lord Jeska’s battlefield over there is decided and their routed troops flood in here, it’ll be a mess to fight!"

"Understood." The Battle Commanders answered in turn.

With hills covering both flanks and only the river running through the gorge, Dass stopped being frugal and gave the direct order, "Holy Thunder..."

His words were drowned by a howl in the sky as an iron ball slammed into the slope, blasting up a cloud of snow and powder.

When the whirling snow settled, a few small deer could be seen bolting away in panic.

A ripple of unrest ran through the ranks. These battle groups didn’t even have official numbers; most of the men were fresh recruits.

Facing these Blaspheme‑Howl guns, they couldn’t help but be afraid.

Fortunately, the gunnery officers handling those Blaspheme‑Howls were nowhere near Holy Alliance standards in skill or mathematics; their accuracy was awful.

After roughly ten minutes of bombardment, the Blaspheme‑Howls began to "shit," spewing out clotted chunks of corpse.

In no time, the white grassland went from snow on frost to snow on snow.

Even before the shelling stopped, the vampire cavalry had already launched a headlong charge.

Wave after wave of vampire horsemen, like a rising tide, drove up the slope, hooves churning white snow.

Once the "shitting" started, the vampire infantry finally followed close behind, swinging halberds, poleaxes, spears, and Blood‑Pact guns as they surged toward the pass.

"Plant your feet! Grip tight! Anyone who takes one step back—!" Dass roared, "Prepare to receive!"