Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 185 Battle
At this moment, the Chihe reinforcements were less than a sheep's length away from Bianli City in a straight line, and every arrow tower on the reddish-brown rammed earth city wall could be seen clearly.

[Note: One sheep field refers to the distance for grazing sheep, approximately 1.2–2.5 kilometers. Similarly, there are also "one cow field" and "one horse field," all of which are Hart people's measurement methods.]
But this short stretch of land is like an insurmountable chasm.

Four thousand-person formations, a camp, and a cold river more than ten meters wide blocked their way.

The centurion "Owl" charged into the main camp, only tightening his reins when he reached the red horse tail banner symbolizing the commander.

The warhorses neighed, and the men reared up.

The owl leaped off its horse, stormed towards the banner, and demanded sharply, "[Herd] Little lion! Why aren't you moving?"

[Note: The following Hednes are Hednes spoken by the Hednes people, and will not be further noted.]
Beneath the banners, the little lion in the owl's mouth remained silent. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he stared intently at Bian Li.

The earthen city on the opposite bank of the river was now shrouded in thick smoke, and shouts of battle, gunfire, and explosions could be clearly heard.

The Hede people revered the color blue, valuing blue horses, blue feathers, and blue stones. Red, yellow, and blue were considered the next most valuable colors, with white being the least desirable.

The several Harts next to the banner all had blue feathers, indicating that they were at least centurions.

Like the owl, the little lion only had one blue feather on his helmet. However, compared to the other blue feathers, he looked rather young.

Beside the little lion was another leader, whose helmet had three blue feathers, and they were longer than the others'.

The leader was clad in full armor, revealing only a deeply lined face that suggested he was quite old.

The old chief pointed his whip at the Parat people who were standing ready for battle, and said to the owl, "These two-legged people are forming a hedgehog formation, clearly waiting for us to attack. Since they know there's a cliff ahead, only a mad, stupid bull would jump off."

The owl flew into a rage, pointing at the old chief's nose and shouting, "Tieduo, you're more greedy than a wolf and more cunning than a fox! You just don't want to put in any effort! From beginning to end, we've been the ones fighting! Have your men shed any blood? You'd love for White Lion to die so you can swallow us whole!"

The centurion behind the old leader, his face contorted with rage, leaped out and grabbed the owl's shoulder armor.

With his left hand controlling the opponent's forearm, the owl delivered a vicious right hook that knocked the man down.

The fallen centurion got up and was about to go forward again when he was forced back by the gleaming tip of his blade.

The owl, gripping its curved blade, pointed it at the crowd, roaring furiously: "The White Lion made a pact with us to lure the enemy out of the camp before encircling and annihilating them. Now that they're here, you hesitate and fear? Is there a better opportunity than this? Are you going to wait until they enter the camp before attacking? And you still say you have no ulterior motives?"

The owl roared at the little lion again: "Little lion, the cannons in the city are like thunder, your own brother is being attacked, are you going to betray him too?"

Under the banner of the horse tail, everyone remained silent, as if trembling with fear.

The little lion completely ignored the owl and looked at the old chieftain: "Uncle, what the owl said makes some sense. Bianli is probably about to collapse, and we have to take the bait even if it's poisoned. Besides, the Paratu people are dividing their forces, which is indeed a good opportunity. If we eliminate the enemy in front of us, the Paratu people besieging the city will collapse on their own."

The old leader of the Honghe tribe, "Tieduo [Qi Tieya]", remained silent for a long time before finally nodding.

He coldly said to the owl, "If I wanted to annex the White Lion's forces, I wouldn't have come here with you in the first place."

The owl grunted and sheathed its sword.

“Your anger is like wildfire.” The little lion then looked at the owl: “Don’t burn your own people, go burn the Paratul. I have something for you to do.”

……

The Hed people made no move, and the Parat people were even less likely to launch an attack; the two sides remained in a stalemate.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert, like a juggler, stood astride two horses, observing the enemy's movements.

His battalion and another battalion formed a thousand-man square formation, positioned at the easternmost end of the overall formation. The two ends were the most dangerous positions, naturally reserved for the most reliable troops.

In Lieutenant Colonel Robert's view, no commander of sound mind would attempt a direct assault on a large phalanx.

However, Sackler gave the enemy commander a reason to launch a full-scale attack—Bian Li.

He clearly told the enemy commander: I have divided my troops into two routes, one to attack Bian Li and the other to attack you; if we defeat this route, Bian Li will lift the siege on his own; if we do not defeat this route, we will break into the city today.

Moreover, even including the garrison at Beizhai, Sekler only had five thousand men at his disposal. Before him stood the mighty army of the Chihe tribe, numbering at least ten thousand cavalry.

Five thousand against ten thousand, infantry against cavalry.

Although Lieutenant Colonel Robert appeared calm and composed, he was still sweating bullets inside.

The Paratists, of course, had no way of knowing about the internal debates and decision-making processes within Hed's army.

Robert only saw the enemy begin to move, horses' hooves kicking up clouds of dust, and cavalry flanking from both sides.

From Paratu's army came the order. The square formations moved slowly, one formation advancing while the others closed in.

The four square formations, which were originally arranged in a straight line, were transformed into a triangular layout.

The cavalrymen of Hedger roared and charged closer and closer, their momentum was astonishing.

"Musketeers, prepare!" Lieutenant Colonel Robert ordered.

Musketeer Pingte, listen to my command: insert the pitchfork and set up the musket.

He knew that he only had one chance to shoot steadily like this, so he aimed carefully.

The cavalrymen flanking from both sides charged to within about a hundred meters, then suddenly turned their horses around, revealing it was a feint.

Pingte's hands were very steady. This kind of trick could only scare new recruits. Of course, it wouldn't fool Pingte, nor would it fool anyone else.

The Plato formation remained completely silent; not a single musketeer fired accidentally. The musketeers waited quietly for the order to fire.

Hart's cavalry retreated to a slightly farther distance, no longer charging or probing, nor dismounting, but simply following from a distance.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert unconsciously licked his lips, because he estimated that the enemy was about two hundred meters away, neither too far nor too close.

Two hundred meters, a cavalryman can sprint at full speed in just twenty seconds, at most thirty seconds.

However, this distance is exactly outside the effective range of the musket.

Someone once said: If a person can be killed by a musket from 200 meters away, it's no different from being hit by a meteor.

The Heds judged the distance very accurately. If it wasn't a coincidence... then it means the enemy was very familiar with the performance of the Platau musket and came prepared.

While flanking the enemy, the Chihe tribe also made other moves.

More than a thousand Harts dismounted and pushed shield carts towards the square formation from the front.

Seeing the Hedgers pull out their family heirlooms, Lieutenant Colonel Robert also changed tactics.

He clenched his fists, thinking to himself, "Why didn't we bring a few cannons? Otherwise, why would we be bullied by shield wagons?"

Musketeer Pint received the order and hurriedly followed his comrades to the front of the square formation to line up.

The hulled car stopped after being pushed for about 200 meters.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert was surprised to find that many of the Hurds standing next to the shield wagon were carrying muskets.

First came shock, then confusion, and then, at one point, Robert's hands and feet suddenly turned ice cold.

At the same time, the charge music suddenly rang out, and messengers rushed from the center of the army to the west in all directions.

"The general has given the order! Attack!" the messenger shouted as he ran toward Robert's square formation.

"At that moment!" Robert roared. "Forward, march—forward!"

The centurions and sergeants followed suit and repeated the order.

Pingte, carrying a musket, hurriedly ran from the flank of the formation to the front. He had just set up the musket, but hadn't even had time to attach the matchlock.

He was somewhat bewildered upon hearing the sudden order.

Looking up ahead, Pingt saw the Hed people not far away lifting the tarpaulin covering the shielded wagon.

The dark muzzle of the cannon was exposed.

A flash of red light.

"boom!"

More than twenty iron balls, each the size of a walnut, shot out, scattering into steel hailstones in mid-air and sweeping towards the Plato formation.

Pingte felt almost nothing before his consciousness was extinguished.

His comrades saw only that Pint's body suddenly fell backward, and his musket fell to the ground.

The brothers in the tent quickly helped Pingt up, only to find that he had been hit in the forehead by an iron ball and was already dead.

The four cannons fired in succession, and the musketeers on the outer circle of the square were successively shot down.

Range is the key factor. If I can hit you but you can't hit me, then you can only take the hits.

After one round of firing, the gunners reloaded.

The soldiers of Palatour were in an uproar. They had not expected that the barbarians of Hed had cannons, nor had they been trained to "take a beating without fighting back."

"Forward!" Lieutenant Colonel Robert roared at the stunned soldiers around him, "Stand at full speed! Forward!"

The drummer, still in a daze, hurriedly struck the war drum.

To the beat of the drums, the Paratians quickly recovered from their shock and began to advance.

They couldn't just stand there and take the beating; they had to capture those four cannons.

But more important than capturing the artillery was maintaining the formation.

The normal pace is 72 steps per minute, with each step being about 60 centimeters. It takes about five minutes to walk to the artillery position 200 meters away—provided that the artillery is not moved.

Seventy-two steps per minute is not slow, but for most of the Paratul soldiers at this moment, this speed is like a tortoise crawling.

Only by moving at this speed can the large formation avoid collapsing.

The Chihe tribe only had four cannons, and a single volley of artillery fire couldn't kill more than a few people.

But the horrific sight of the dead and the cries of the dying echoed in their ears. Each round of shelling was like drawing lots; whoever was chosen would die, and no one wanted to participate in this death lottery.

The soldiers of Palatine were parched, and their pace quickened involuntarily, causing chaos to break out in their formation.

From time to time, soldiers would wander into other lines or accidentally fall and disrupt more people.

"Centurions! Sergeants!" Lieutenant Colonel Robert, seeing this, was anxious: "Maintain formation!"

With horns blaring, the Heds had been waiting for this moment. The cavalry on both flanks suddenly surged forward, launching a torrent of attacks on Plato's army.

The "Stop Song" came from the central army, its short melody repeated by the buglers as if it were a death knell.

"Stop! Everyone stop!" Lieutenant Roy, disregarding the need to conserve magic, used amplification to order, "Reorganize!"

The Platonic phalanx halted and rearranged itself. The musketeers retreated into the phalanx, and the pikemen lowered their muskets.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the gunners fired a second salvo and then dragged the cannons further away.

The musketeers, armed with muskets, rapidly approached the Plato phalanx, their intentions clear. Lieutenant Colonel Robert was furious, but his immediate priority was to withstand the charge of the musketeers; he could only watch helplessly as the musketeers bled him dry.

With the military flag waving, the central army formation suddenly unfolded.

Lieutenant Centurion [Little László] raised the military flag and led the charge, with 150 heavily armored halberdiers shouting as they rushed out of the square formation and attacked the four cannons of the Heds.

This was a suicidal mission, but the Paratians had to destroy the four cannons or they would continue to be on the defensive.

The musketeers of Hart retreated in panic, and then hundreds of Hart armored soldiers poured out from behind the shield wagons to meet the heavy halberdiers of Palatour.

The Harts, clad in double-layered lamellar armor, moved with incredible speed. Their weapons were not the iconic scimitars, but rather maces, heavy axes, and warhammers.

The elite troops of the two armies clashed violently, and because everyone was heavily armored, killing each other became extremely difficult.

The warhammer struck the helmet, denting the metal plate. The man inside, however, did not die; blood rushed into his trachea. The warrior, coughing up blood, tackled his opponent, grabbed the halberd blade, and shoved it into his mouth, all the way in.

Almost no one received a clean and swift death; the battle became a form of torture. The dead almost always died from internal bleeding caused by repeated blunt force trauma.

Regardless of friend or foe, some soldiers had their limbs broken, yet they were still alive, these tough men pleading for a quick death.

Behind them, the encirclement by Hed's cavalry on both flanks was repelled by the reorganized phalanx.

Dozens of brave Hart cavalrymen charged into the square formation, only to be surrounded and killed by the halberdiers and spearmen inside.

Up ahead, Palatine's heavy halberds and Hed's armored soldiers were evenly matched.

"[Herd] What's wrong with Owl?" At the Red River Tribe's main camp, Little Lion, who was watching the battle, slammed his fist on the flagpole: "[Herd] I told him to retreat a long time ago! Why isn't he retreating?"

The others remained silent.

Surprisingly, Tie Duo spoke a few words of justice for Chi Xiao: "[Hede] On the battlefield, men and horses are neighing and groaning, how can he be watching you? If he retreats, the others will think that we have lost, what will we do? Once you charge forward, you can't retreat, and you can't retreat either."

Half of the cavalry in the main camp of the Akagawa tribe had not yet participated in the battle.

"[Hede] The Paratites are very resilient; they cannot be broken in one go. They need to be worn down a few more times."

The little lion noticed that the battle in front of the artillery position had reached a stalemate. He beckoned to a red-feathered creature and whispered instructions in its ear.

A troop of heavily armored cavalry broke away from their main force and galloped toward the center of the battlefield.

Lieutenant László saw the troop approaching the heavy cavalry and suddenly realized that this was the last chance to seize the artillery.

"Forward! Soldiers of Palatour!" Lieutenant László stood up in his stirrups, roared, and threw his flag at the cannon: "Take courage! Forward!"

The military flag drew an arc in the air and landed next to the shield wagon equipped with artillery.

In this era, the Alliance Standing Legion is one of the very few armies with a strong sense of military honor.

For a standing army, losing its flag is not only a matter of military law, but also a great disgrace.

Throwing the flag was the commander's last resort. It signified that the battle had reached its final moment, and everyone was prepared to die to recapture the flag.

Lieutenant László charged toward the cannons without regard for his own life, while the other halberdiers, their eyes red with fury, rushed toward the banner without hesitation, managing to break through the formation of the Herd's armored soldiers.

The four cannons of the Hed were quickly nailed down.

Colonel László, standing in the large formation, felt as if his heart was being torn apart. Watching his son disappear into the waves like a pebble, his vision went black, and he fell heavily from his saddle.

Where are the reinforcements?

This question was on the minds of all the senior officers.

Behind a hillside on the west side of the battlefield, Winters wiped the sweat from his brow and said to Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, "It should be just ahead; I heard a sound."

The JSKA battalion and all other auxiliary units included everyone who could ride a horse—or more accurately, someone who wouldn't fall off and die.

Fortunately, the captured horses were all well trained by the Hud people.

The long "dragon rider" column was followed by two eight-horsepower wagons, each carrying a heavy six-pound cannon, weighing 450 kilograms.

Lieutenant Mason brought out all four of his "daughters"—four light long guns—in one go.

However, two of the carriages broke down halfway, and in the end only the two daughters arrived at the battlefield.

"The main battle means everything. Once the main battle begins, all dispersed forces must be concentrated on the main battlefield."

Because of Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's overly strong initiative, reinforcements arrived on the battlefield unexpectedly.

Even more unexpected things are happening.

Inside a huge felt tent in the very center of Bianli's main city, a dozen shaman priests dressed in colorful woven robes, wearing animal bone masks, and decorated with bones, feathers, stones, and ribbons sat around a campfire.

The siege outside was reaching its climax, with deafening gunfire, cannon fire, and explosions.
Inside the felt tent, all was silent except for the crackling of the campfire.

A shaman entered from outside the tent, respectfully holding a still-beating horse heart.

The leading shaman took the heart, his hands stained with blood.

Another shaman threw a handful of powder into the flames, and the tent was immediately filled with smoke.

The leading shaman placed the heart in the golden plate, raised his dagger, and plunged it in fiercely.

The other shamans, as if awakened from a dream, chanted in unison in a low, strange voice, creating an eerie and bewildering scene.

At the same time, a hidden door in the north wall of Bianli City suddenly exploded open.

A sturdy blue steed burst out of the smoke first, its rider clad in a striking full set of crimson armor.

Hundreds and thousands of Herder's elite cavalry followed the red-armored knight, filing out of the breach in the city wall and heading straight for the confluence river.

All eyes were drawn to this unusual change.

Seeing the red armor and the blue horse, the morale of the Heders on the battlefield soared, and they shouted in unison with fervor: "Yasin! Yasin! Yasin!"

"That's the barbarian chieftain Yasin?" Seckler's pupils suddenly dilated, and he couldn't help but mutter to himself.

After playing against each other remotely for so long, this was the first time Sackler had faced his opponent face-to-face.

"That's the white lion? Why is it wearing red armor?" Winters on the hillside asked, bewildered. "Why did it rush into the river again?"

What was the white lion up to? Winters quickly figured it out.

Although the river doesn't freeze in winter, it's still icy cold.

But the red-armored knight rode his horse into the confluence river, intending to swim across by holding onto the horse's neck—while still wearing armor.

Due to the limited field of vision, most people on the battlefield could not see what was happening in the river.

Winters, standing on the western slope, could see it clearly:

The river was only a dozen meters wide, but the red-armored knight was swept away by the rapid current for at least fifty meters, his head submerged several times and then surfacing again, barely escaping with his life before finally reaching the dry bank.

The other Herdsmen on the battlefield only saw the red-armored blue horse disappear on the other side of the river, and then suddenly leap back onto this side of the river.

"Yasin! Yasin! Yasin!" The shouts grew even more fervent, reaching the heavens.

The elite cavalry following behind the white lion also waded into the river; some were swept away by the undercurrent, while others reached the other side.

Just as the White Lion led his elite cavalry into the battlefield, inside the felt tent in the center of Bianli City, the ceremony had entered its most crucial part.

The leading shaman beat the lion-skin drum and danced a frenzied, mesmerizing dance with a unique beauty.

One by one, the other shamans joined in the dance.

Winters felt a cold wind sweep over his body, making him involuntarily want to wrap his clothes tighter.

Just as he was about to ask others if they had the same feeling, suddenly, intense phantom pain appeared out of nowhere.

He clearly wasn't in a spellcasting state, yet the illusion pain couldn't be faked.

Winters gritted his teeth and let out a scream that sounded inhuman, his body involuntarily curling into a small ball.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, standing beside him, was horrified but didn't know what to do.

Within Lieutenant Colonel Robert's formation, Lieutenant Roy also clutched his head and screamed as he fell from his saddle.

Not only Winters and Roy, but all the Alliance spellcasters within a two-kilometer radius were tormented by intense phantom pain to the point of being unable to move. Some of the weaker spellcasters even fainted directly.

Inside the felt tent in the center of Bianli City, a shaman priest also fell headfirst during a dance.

Blood kept seeping from the corners of the eyes and nasal cavity of the leading shaman, yet his dance only became more intense and frenzied.

"No! No!" Winters' only remaining thought was, "No! No!"

He concentrated all his energy, focusing his mind on one point: "No! Reject! Stop!"

Everything was like a snapped string, and he even seemed to hear a real "snap." Winters instantly snapped out of the phantom pain, his whole body soaked in sweat.

The first thing he saw were the concerned and worried faces of others.

"Are you alright?" Jessica asked, her brow furrowed. "What happened?"

Winters felt a cool sensation on his cheek. He touched his left cheek. Water?

Is it sweat?
Winters stretched his hand toward the sky, and he could keenly feel more cool droplets of water falling onto his palm.

Thousands of meters above the ground, amidst dense clouds, in places no one can see, countless tiny droplets, almost invisible to the naked eye, are rapidly precipitating from the air.

The more water vapor it absorbs, the larger the droplets become. Until they become too large to float in the air, they fall to the ground.

"Rainproof cloth!" Winters struggled to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Rainproof cloth! Get the rainproof cloth!"

The others also sensed something was wrong. Lieutenant Mason ran wildly toward the cannons and gunpowder barrels, taking off his clothes as he ran.

But for most people on the battlefield, it was too late.

From a few drops of water to a torrential downpour, it all seems to happen in an instant.

The torrential rain came so suddenly and violently that it gave no one time to react.

The matchlock was extinguished, the gunpowder was soaked, and Bianli's raging fire turned into smoke, rendering all the gunpowder weapons useless.

The six battalions attacking the city were forced to retreat in disarray under the onslaught of torrential rain.

On this battlefield on the north bank of the confluence of the rivers, tens of thousands of Hart's cavalry are launching a relentless charge against the Plato phalanx.

The white lion on the red-armored blue horse was at the very front.

[It's artificial rain!]
[The repeated mention of dark clouds earlier was actually foreshadowing!!! Hahahaha!]
[However, artificial rainmaking is not my area of ​​expertise, and my understanding of it is limited. For now, I'll tentatively use a method similar to dry ice rainmaking.]
[Feels like I've taken a giant leap from low magic to medium magic (≧≦)]
Thank you to every reader who has made it this far!
Thank you to readers Xueji Chuqingtian, Jingmo Suifengpiaosan, Hongyu Heishanyue, and Mass-Produced Magic War Tool (Please don't tip me every day! I could never forget your IDs, don't worry!)
感谢书友paullkwk、苏打鸟、美洲野犬、幻灵lee、书友20171220215720365、毛球三号、书友20180204123228759、阿布23333333、我不知道该叫什么、神佑—啸游、真名实姓1、Reolity令其响彻、静默随风飘散、大建伤不起、蓝清影、headless、92酱萌萌哒、Barryyu、读者20201027193620426896758、蓝矿石、茶叶丹、书友20180830192648978、云虚逸、银发夜叉、书友20171014224425371、子非鱼安知我鱼之乐、书友20190207214120011、书友170210170355428、Hammer2019、有点杂念的月票，写不下了，下章补全。

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(End of this chapter)