Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 418 New Blood
[Shovel Port Wharf]
The monkey sat listlessly on a wooden stool used for scraping fish scales, occasionally turning its head to look behind it, as if it could see the battle situation outside the city through the houses and streets.

He pricked up his ears to listen to the noise, and when the cannon fired, he jumped up as if he had squeezed his toes.

"The fight's starting!" the monkey cried anxiously.

"What business is it of yours if they set off firecrackers?" Lu Xirong angrily pulled the monkey back to its original position: "You sit down."

The monkey and Lu Xirong hid in a thatched shed on the dock. Usually, after the fishermen sold their catch, they would bring the small fish that no one wanted to pickle and dry here.

Therefore, the gaps in the wooden planks under the thatched shed were already filled with dark grime, a mixture of blood, mud, and fish entrails.

Even if you stuff a radish into a monkey's nostrils, it can still smell the nauseating stench of decay. Although Lu Xirong didn't say anything, he frowned.

In contrast, Peter Bunier, who was hiding in the fish-killing shed with the monkey and Lucyon, did not seem to feel any discomfort.

The monkey looked at Sergeant Bunir with mixed feelings. The latter was intently watching the lake, holding a small piece of dried fish in his hand and chewing it like a squirrel.

"Sergeant Bunir," the monkey asked in a muffled voice, "the fighting must have already broken out outside the town. Isn't it a bad idea for us to hide here?"

Peter looked at the recruits with a puzzled expression, and answered without thinking, "No... it's fine here."

"I heard that the bandit leader Potal has brought a lot of people!" Monkey seemed to have punched a cotton ball; he was half annoyed and half pleading: "We have to go and support Lord Tamas!"

“Support?” Peter was even more puzzled. He scratched the back of his head and replied somewhat blankly, “The battalion commander doesn’t need our support.”

The monkey's temper was truly ignited this time. He jumped up again, baring his teeth and growling, "We are the mighty First Company! Directly led by Lord Tamas! And what do we see? They are fighting a war! We are watching the water!"

This time, before Peter Bunier could even speak, Roussillon had already firmly stamped a large shoe print on the monkey's butt, and then, not satisfied, stamped another one on the other side of its butt.

Lucien dragged the troublesome recruit back to his seat and kept apologizing to Peter Bunier: "That kid... sigh, he didn't get a single head when fighting the barbarians of Hed, he's anxious. Sergeant, please don't hold it against him..."

"It's nothing." Peter waved his hand hastily. He didn't really understand why the recruit was suddenly so angry, because his attention had been mainly focused on the piece of dried fish he couldn't chew. "It's nothing."

After thinking it over for a long time, Peter bypassed Lucien and explained to the new recruits, "Uh, well, I don't understand why the battalion commander made me take charge of the first company, and I don't understand why the first company isn't fighting."

“But,” Peter Bunier said seriously, “Captain Morrow must have his reasons for ordering us to guard the docks. We just need to obey orders.”

The monkey hung its head and remained silent.

Then, he received another slap on the head from Lu Xirong.

"The sergeant is talking to you!" Lu Xirong yelled. "Answer 'Yes, sir!'"

The monkey forced out a sound through its teeth: "Yes."

“Yes, sir!” Lu Xirong slapped the troublesome new recruit again.

The monkey stood up and saluted reluctantly: "Yes, sir!"

Peter still didn't understand why the recruit was so angry. He instinctively returned the salute, but the recruit had already slumped back down on the fish-killing platform.

Lucien, a veteran from the Fifth Army Corps, bowed apologetically to Sergeant Bunir, then turned to look at Monkey. After a long silence, he sighed and said earnestly, "You still don't know how lucky you are! You met a good man, Sergeant Bunir, who won't hold it against you. If it were any other vicious guy, he would have skinned you alive!"

“Sir,” Peter Bunier asked curiously, “how many years did you serve in the military?”

Upon hearing this question, Lu Xirong took off his helmet, smoothed his already gray hair, smiled wryly, and then said nonchalantly, "I haven't counted myself, but it's been about... twenty years."

The monkey stared wide-eyed in disbelief. Although he knew Sergeant Lu Xirong was a veteran, he hadn't expected him to have served for so long: "Twenty years? I've only lived for eighteen years, and you've already...twenty years?"

“Twenty years…” Peter gazed at the lake, chewing on dried fish, as if sighing.

……

[Outside Chanzigang Town]
"preparation!"

"aim!"

"Fire!"

"boom!"

After firing, the musketeer pulled out the tripod, shouldered the musket, and turned to walk to the back of the column.

The musketeers, who were originally in the second row, stepped forward three steps and set up their tripods.

"preparation!"

"aim!"

"Fire!"

"boom!"

Although the shooters pulled the trigger at different times, the gunshots sounded as one.

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

On the front lines of the new army in Tiefeng County, the sounds of gunfire from various companies rose and fell, like a rhythmic melody.

However, for the soldiers under Potal's command, what came from the front was not a melody, but the hoofbeats of the Death Knights.

During the close reconnaissance, Potal discovered that the rebels' formation was strange. They were not arranged in the usual solid square formation, but rather in a horizontal line.

The horizontal lines are stacked on top of each other like bricks in a wall, extending from one point to both wings.

Potal speculated that the opposing team was defending with their backs to the wall, so they didn't need to guard against possible attacks from behind, which is why they adopted a single-sided formation.

To some extent, Potal's idea was not wrong. But when he actually led his troops toward the rebel square, he was shocked to realize that because they were deployed in a horizontal line, the rebel lines, despite being outnumbered, were actually wider.

On the contrary, Potal's own troops, because they were forming a solid square formation to meet the enemy, had almost all of their soldiers inside and behind the square "wasted." Not only were they unable to outflank the enemy, but they were also at risk of being outflanked by the enemy.

However, Potal dared not and could not deploy in a horizontal formation like the rebels.

The rebels dared to form such a formation because they had their backs against the wall and had no worries about their rear; however, Potal had a sharp blade hanging over his head called the "rebel cavalry." If Potal's soldiers formed a horizontal formation, the rebel cavalry could completely destroy Potal's army with a single charge.

Moreover, Potal's troops were able to maintain discipline largely because the square formation provided the soldiers with a sense of security. What would happen if the square formation were disbanded? Potal dared not imagine.

Potal made a decisive move, changing the infantry's advance direction and abandoning the attempt to break through the center, instead attacking one flank of the rebel line. He held onto his remaining half-squadron of riders, guarding against any sudden appearance of rebel cavalry and waiting for an opportunity to strike the rebel flank.

He strictly followed the tactical instructions taught by Mr. Alpha—sending his musketeers to fire on the rebels before his pikemen could get within range of the rebel musketeers.

In the textbooks of the Allied Army College, this "exchange of fire" tactic is explained as follows: if the enemy gunners fire, their best opportunity for a first volley will be wasted; if the enemy gunners do not fire, the friendly musketeers can continue to weaken the enemy.

Then, Potal's musketeers were met with a crushing defeat.

One round, two rounds, three rounds... the rebels' muskets seemed to need no reloading, firing one shot after another.

Every time Potal's musketeers advanced a short distance, the rebels would unleash a new volley of gunfire; each time the rebels fired, Potal's heart would skip a beat.

Before the musketeers he sent out could even reach their firing range, they were felled one after another by the hail of lead bullets that swept across the battlefield. Those who were lucky enough to survive disregarded military law, dropped their weapons, and fled in disarray before the two armies.

The gunfire ceased, and the rebels' horizontal formation fell silent once more, as if silently mocking Potal.

The Shovel Harbor troops were also completely silent; no one knew if they would survive.

Potal led his guards to catch up with the fleeing musketeers and killed them all.

Back at the front lines, Potal's eyes were bloodshot. He couldn't understand why, even though he had been fighting according to the standard tactics Alpha had taught him, he was being attacked everywhere; even though he had meticulously executed Alpha's plans, he was being controlled at every turn.

So what tactics? What officers? To hell with that! Do it my way!

"Everyone in Shovel Harbor is a traitor! They've joined the rebels! They're no longer protected by the laws of the Republic!" Potal roared hoarsely. "Take Shovel Harbor! Take everything! Women! Gold and silver! Everything! It's all yours!"

By the end, Potal's voice was almost a bestial roar: "Forget about formations! Spearmen! Kill them all! Charge!!!"

On the other side of the battlefield, Bart Sharing stared at the bandit leader gesticulating wildly in the distance and ordered the Second Battalion, located on the right flank of the front line, to move toward the enemy's side.

On the makeshift artillery position, Captain Morrow's voice was colder than his mask: "Shotgun shells, fire!"

The demon Ons ignited the propellant, showering the enemy with a rain of fire and death.

……

Meanwhile, in a thatched hut at the Shovel Harbor docks, far from the battlefield, Peter Bunier, who was gnawing on dried fish, suddenly exclaimed "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Lu Xirong asked. "Sergeant Bunir."

Peter pointed to the silhouette on the water outside the harbor: "It looks like a ship is coming."

"What?" The drowsy monkey suddenly perked up: "A boat? We actually got one?!"

……

Meanwhile, in the southwest, far from the battlefield, Andrei, arriving at the scene at breakneck speed, cursed loudly: "[Foul language]! I'm too late again! There's only leftovers to eat! [Angry foul language]!"

He actually arrived early. According to the original plan, the troops that captured Shovel Harbor would launch a feint attack on Portal Manor at the agreed time to lure the defenders of Portal Manor out, and then annihilate them with the help of the cavalry—a classic Hart trick, but with the help of the Nuremberg clock, the timetable for the coordinated operation could be accurate to the hour.

To ensure the plan's success, Andrei's cavalry had to remain hidden outside the enemy's patrol routes before the feint attack was launched.

However, plans never keep up with changes, and he was too late. Potal thought his troops could win in hand-to-hand combat, but the truth is that hand-to-hand combat is more brutal than ranged combat, and Potal's troops collapsed almost immediately.

"Sir! Wait!" Tulin's shout came from behind: "The greenhorn can't keep up with you!"

Andrei turned around and saw that he still had fewer than forty men following behind him, and they were all in a sorry state. Keep in mind, he had mustered a whole company when he set out from Zhevodan.

Andrei angrily slammed his thigh—the best cavalry and the best warhorses had been taken by that fellow Winters, leaving him only some useless recruits and idiots.

However, there is not without good news.

Because Winters took all his cavalry lightly armed, Andrei's riders were all well-equipped, with even the worst riders wearing captured Hedza armor.

The rebel cavalry from Shovel Harbor, who were originally retreating, also spotted the Iron Peak County cavalry who had just arrived on the battlefield and were not yet fully assembled—or perhaps they noticed Lieutenant Andrei's overly ornate armor and horsecoat—and immediately turned around and charged toward Andrei's cavalry.

"Draw your sword!" Andrei ordered. "Shoulder the sword!"

The Iron Peak cavalry, who had followed Andrei to the battlefield, drew their weapons.

“Your being left in Iron Peak County means you’re all third-rate.” Andrei walked past his men with his sword on his shoulder, looking at them provocatively: “If you want to prove you’re not, now’s your chance.”

Tulin, brandishing his saber, roared fervently, "Uukhai!"

"Shut up!"

"Yes!"

Andrei stood at the front of the riders. After a brief silence, he turned around and said with a smile, "But don't be afraid, because the opponents are all mediocre. I'll go first, and you guys stick close to me, and we'll win."

Having said that, he pulled on the reins and spurred the horse's ribs, causing the warhorse to rear up high.

Andrei pointed his sword at the enemy: "Charge!"

On the other side of the battlefield, Potal, who was charging toward the rebel cavalry, discovered that the enemy was not only not retreating, but was instead charging toward him, so he whipped his horse even harder.

He spotted the heavily armored officer among the rebel cavalry at a glance. He knew that victory today might not be his. But if he could capture or kill a key enemy figure, things might still turn around.

The two cavalry units collided with a loud crash on the flat ground between Shovel Harbor and the forest.

As he passed the heavily armored rebel officer, Potal's last thought was, "What incredible strength."

……

[Shovel Port Wharf]
Alpha heard the sound of cannons and the melody of volleys, but he was ultimately too late.

Downstream from the small river adjacent to Portal Estate, you can reach Shovel Lake. Although the river is too small to accommodate large ships, and Portal Estate doesn't have enough large ships, Alfa doesn't need many ships either.

According to the original plan, when Potal led the main force to launch a frontal attack on Shovel Harbor, Alpha would lead a small force to raid Shovel Harbor by boat—using the rebels' methods against the rebels.

However, like Andrei, he arrived late.

However, even if they arrived in time, the outcome might not have changed: Alpha, who led his handpicked hundred-man team to the dock, found himself surrounded by at least one and a half hundred men.

"Put down your weapons! Surrender!" Lu Xirong stepped forward and shouted sternly, "Listen carefully! The gunfire outside has stopped! You have already lost!"

The militiamen at the shovel port looked at each other, and finally all looked at the young man in the lead—Mr. Alpha.

Mr. Alpha made no move.

The new army soldiers present all looked at the acting company commander, Sergeant Bunir, waiting for his order to kill the entire small group of rebels.

Peter Bunier felt the gazes of his comrades. He suddenly had a strange feeling, a feeling he had never had before, a feeling that "I have to do something or something bad will happen to everyone"—he was still clueless and did not know that the feeling was called "responsibility".

But he didn't know what he should do. He steeled himself, his knees trembling, and approached the enemy leader, saying cowardly yet bravely, "It's over. Surrender. Otherwise, people will die. Many people will die."

His voice sounded less like a threat and more like a plea.

Perhaps because of this, a Shovel Harbor militiaman threw away his weapon.

Then the second, the third...

"Put down your weapons!" Seeing that some stubborn rebels were still waiting for their leader to give his opinion, the monkey was furious. He decided to go all in and swaggered into the rebels, disarming them one by one: "Surrender! Or die!"

Even if some of the Shovel Harbor militia were still hesitant, it didn't mean they had the courage to resist; they just needed a push. So, in the end, the Shovel Harbor militia who refused to surrender tacitly allowed their weapons to be taken away.

"Hey! You!" A monkey carrying a large bundle of swords and knives approached the rebel leader, intimidatingly shouting, "Put down your weapons! Or you'll be killed on sight!"

The other person kept his head down and didn't move. The monkey grew impatient and simply reached out to snatch the other person's sword.

This was like a spark falling into a powder keg. Alpha sprang into action, swiftly and accurately seizing control of the monkey's wrist before delivering a powerful kick to its groin.

"Soldier! Back off!" Upon seeing this, Lu Xirong immediately pushed aside Sergeant Bunir and raised his halberd to thrust it at the rebel leader.

Alpha nimbly dodged the veteran's first thrust, holding the sword in his right hand while gripping the scabbard with his left. Using a single-handed sword, he employed two-handed swordsmanship, using the spine of the blade to deflect the veteran's second thrust. He then plunged into the long pole and struck the veteran with the hilt with both force and precision.

Lu Xirong couldn't dodge in time and took the full force of the blow. Even though he was wearing a breastplate, the heavy blow from the sword hilt made his blood surge and his head spin.

The veteran staggered back a few steps, clutching his chest as he fell to the ground.

Seeing that the old soldier's fate was unknown, the monkey went berserk, ignoring the excruciating pain in his groin, howling as he lunged at the rebel leader—only to be cleanly and decisively kicked away.

Immediately afterwards, two more New Army soldiers who came to their aid were taken down by Alpha.

Seeing that even the surrendered rebels' eyes had become unpredictable, Peter Bunier shouted anxiously, "Don't move!"

Even someone not very bright could tell that this guy in front of him was difficult to deal with; in a one-on-one duel, probably no one in the entire company could beat him.

Fortunately, this is not a duel or a competition, but a war to the death.

War is about the many bullying the few.

"Back off! Back off!" Peter Bunier shouted, waving his arm. "Musketeers!"

The soldiers of the new army beside the rebel leader either retreated or crawled away, all trying to distance themselves from the rebel leader.

Just as Alpha was about to give chase and engage in combat, he suddenly heard someone shout, "Try this!" and then a fishing net flew towards him and caught him.

The monkey that threw out the fishing net saw that its opponent had been caught, so it swung its fist and charged forward—only to be kicked away hard.

However, Alpha could solve the monkey problem, but not the fishing net; the more he moved, the tighter the net became.

Musketeers surrounded them from all sides. Facing the dark muzzles of their guns, Alpha, who had been struggling desperately just a second ago, simply threw down his sword the next.

"I surrender."

"Huh?" Peter Bunier, who was about to order the musketeers to fire, froze.

“I surrender,” Alpha repeated, smiling helplessly. “Take me to Winters Montagne.”

All the new army soldiers present were stunned.

A figure flashed by.

"I'll fucking take you to see your grandpa!" the monkey roared, delivering a flying kick that sent Alpha tumbling into the water.

……

Two hundred kilometers away in Winters, someone suddenly sneezed.

Sabre Seber glanced at the captain and asked with disdain, "You caught a cold already?"

"Maybe." Winters rubbed his nose.

Anglu brought a Herd man before Winters: "Centurion, the scouts have spotted a suspicious fellow."

"Red Serpent's retinue?" Winters asked.

“No,” Anglu replied. “It seems to be local herders.”

"Let it go."

“I let him go,” Anglu said helplessly, “but he won’t leave.”

Winters walked up to the Herd man and, speaking in broken Herdese, asked, "[Herdese] Who are you? What do you want?"

The man named Hed looked up in surprise, and after a long while he spoke: "[Hed said] I am Hanshan, the white-bodied man of the Red Serpent Leader."

Winters asked coldly, "[Herd] You want to avenge Chi Lian?"

Han Shan swallowed hard: "[Hede] I want to know if the Red Serpent Chieftain is really dead."

Winters was somewhat puzzled, but still told Anglu, "Show him the Red Serpent's corpse, and then let him go. We've stayed too long; we need to retreat as soon as possible."

Anglu left the tent, beckoned a subordinate to take the Hed man Hanshan to examine Chilian's body, then turned back into the tent and asked, "What should we do with the spoils?"

"You even need to ask that?" Major Seber said impatiently, "Take what you can, and burn what you can't!"

Anglu remained unmoved, looking only at Winters: "I mean... prisoners."

"Aren't prisoners of war spoils?" Major Seber coldly rebuked, "Kill all the men taller than a wheel, sell the children and women to the guides, Taichi will want them."

Anglu did not react; he stood still, quietly awaiting Winters' command.

“Do it this way,” Winters said thoughtfully. “In ten or twenty years, a group of Harts who have a deep-seated hatred for us will grow up.”

"No more deep-seated hatred now?" Seber scoffed, then suddenly sneered, "If you're worried, you can kill them all. I won't object."

Winters sighed and confessed, "Actually, I don't know what to do right now. But I just can't bring myself to kill women and children. Do you have any good ideas?"

Major Cypher rarely gave Winters a friendly look, and Winters kept his distance from Major Cypher. The two generally maintained a state of mutual respect and non-interference.

So Winters’ sudden honesty caught Seber a little off guard, not to mention that Winters even sought his advice.

“There’s no good solution. If there were a better one, we wouldn’t have been fighting the Hurds for hundreds of years,” Seber answered honestly. Although his tone softened, he still couldn’t resist a sarcastic remark to Winters: “Why don’t you become the chieftain of these Hurd barbarians? Aren’t the Hurds fighting and annexing each other every day? But you don’t see them killing each other to death. They’ll get used to it.”

“There are already rumors that I’m a spy the White Lion sent back to Palatour.” Winters sighed. “If I take in another group of Herds, wouldn’t that confirm that I’m a traitor?”

Cypher hadn't expected Winters to reopen his wounds, so he gave an awkward "humph" and sneered a few times without saying a word.

"Bring the guide in," Winters ordered the guards.

The guide was led into the tent; he looked quite nervous and his body language was uneasy.

“Follow the ways of the wasteland,” Winters asked the guide. “After winning a battle, how do you deal with the defeated?”

Realizing he wasn't going to be silenced, the guide breathed a sigh of relief, and his expression relaxed.

He bowed his head and answered respectfully, “In a great victory like Batu’s, Batu can do whatever he wants with the defeated. He can kill all the men taller than a cartwheel, possess all the beautiful women, and reward the meritorious warriors and nobles with livestock, gold, silver, commoners and slaves according to Batu’s wishes, and then take their pastures.”

Finally, the guide added, "Children who cannot remember things can be brought into the yurt and raised, but children who can remember things cannot be kept."

Major Seber burst into laughter.

……

"[Herd] I am Herstas, the Champion of Palatine and the Chosen One. I am your conqueror and your ruler." Winters did not have the guide translate, but instead declared to the people before him in his broken Herd language: "[Herd] But I give you a choice."

Before Wintersma stood about a hundred people, including commoners, slaves, women, and children from the old camp of the Red Serpent Tribe. The nobles and warriors of the Red Serpent Tribe had all been screened out—following the guide's advice.

Winters casually pointed to the guides sent by Taichi: "[Herd] You can join Taichi's tribe as white people."

“[Herd] Or,” Winters said, pointing his whip eastward, “[Herd] You may migrate eastward and accept my protection and rule.”

Winters didn't waste any words. In the cultures of the tribes, excessive talk signified weakness, and weakness was the quality most despised by the wasteland. The wasteland could accept wisdom, courage, and even brutality, but it would not accept weakness.

"[Herd] If you can keep up, then come on!"

Having said this, Winters rode away, followed by the black-clad cavalry and the convoy laden with spoils. He left behind the former Red Serpent followers standing amidst the ruins, contemplating their fate.

……

"How did you two manage to catch up?" Winters asked, both amused and exasperated.

A young hunter named Hed and a boy, each carrying a musket, knelt on one knee and blocked Wintersma's path.

"[Hede] Batu said, 'If you can keep up, then come on.'" The clever boy said, "[Hede] So we came."

"Aren't you part of Taichi's forces?" Winters retorted.

The boy couldn't understand it, but the young man did.

“Badu is the most powerful person I have ever seen.” The young man struggled to translate his true thoughts into Common: “The Tai Chi-tou people are no good, the Chi Lian-tou people are no good, none of them are good enough. I do not wish to serve them. Please allow me to join your tribe.”

Major Seiber, standing nearby, asked curiously, "So if one day 'Batu' isn't the most powerful person, you'll change masters?"

After a moment's thought, the young man drew an arrow, raised it high, and solemnly swore: "If I betray Batu, may this arrow be mine."

Having said that, he broke the arrow shaft in two.

Seeing this, the boy next to him, though he couldn't understand what his brother was saying, also drew an arrow, bent his neck, and snapped it in two.

"[Herd] What are your names?" Winters asked.

The boy immediately replied, "[Hede] We only have the names of the tribes, please give us names other than those of the tribes!"

The young man also lowered his head: "Please, Batu, bestow a name upon me."

Winters had a splitting headache: "Since all the tribes are associated with the color white, you shall be called Big White and Little White."

Winters temporarily handed Big White and Little White over to Anglu. Major Cyber, who witnessed the whole thing, asked quietly, "What exactly did you say to those Red Serpent Tribe members?"

“I said,” Winters replied, “that they can accept my protection and rule if they wish.”

"rule?"

"Otherwise what?" Winters asked dismissively, "Should we change it to the 'Union Charter'?"

When did you learn Hellenistic languages?

“Not long,” Winters said with a hint of pride. “I started learning last winter, not bad, right?”

Major Seiber frowned: "You were already preparing to 'rule' the Heds back then?"

“No, Major, I don’t want to rule the Hurds,” Winters replied earnestly. “But I also don’t want to fight the Hurds for another hundred years.”

……

……

While Winters was dealing with the prisoners of the Red Serpent Tribe, Andrei also had many prisoners to deal with in the forest outside Shovel Harbor.

“Those who are still alive are all here.” Tulin wiped the blood and sweat from his face haphazardly and laughed loudly, “What a great day! Sir! The bastards have all run north.”

"Where did they run off to?" Andrei, still eager for more, waved his hand and shouted, "Chase them!"

"Then... what about these prisoners?" Tulin pointed to the twenty-odd prisoners lying haphazardly.

"Check identities, kill bandits and robbers." Andrei glanced at the prisoners and said, "If there are any who have been coerced, let them go home."

Tulin scratched his head: "The rebel cavalry were all recruited bandits, there were no people who were coerced into joining them."

Andrei mounted his horse, walked past the prisoners, and waved his hand impatiently: "Then kill them all."

"Yes!"

Leading his still-fighting cavalry, Andrei set off to pursue the fleeing enemy.

With a pained expression, Turin began to "process" the prisoners.

It wasn't out of pity—Dusac would have no mercy for bandits—but because he hadn't been able to go with Lieutenant Cellini to pursue the enemy.

However, the sound of hooves rang out again, and Andrei returned. He stopped his horse in front of the prisoners, pointed at one of them, and said, "Let's leave this child alone and let him go."

Turin saluted: "Yes, sir!"

Andrei nodded and rode away.

Turin walked over to the prisoner who had been called by Andrei and found that he was a young man of about seventeen or eighteen years old, his face covered in blood and unconscious.

Tulin splashed some water on the "child's" face and patted the latter's cheek: "Hey! Wake up! Lucky boy."

The young man woke up groaning and covered his eyes with his hands.

"Hey." Tulin cut the ropes binding the young man's hands. "What's your name?"

"Alexander."

Tulin noticed the difference in accent when the other person pronounced the name "Alexander" compared to the Paratists.

He frowned and asked, "Hey, what's your dad's name?"

The young man answered in a hoarse voice, "Nikolai."

Turin's brow furrowed even more, and he stopped what he was doing: "Are you from Dusa?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you become a bandit?"

The young man fell silent.

"Never mind," Tulin chuckled self-deprecatingly, untying the young man's ropes and bringing him a jug of water. "You're quite the lucky fellow. By the way, do you know who saved your life?"

[51026/100000]
[The troops at Shovel Harbor were still living in the era before the Battle of Blood and Mud, while Winters' troops had already been baptized in blood and mud; the two were no longer comparable.]
[So, judging from the scale of the Battle of Shovel Harbor, it seemed a bit like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut—but, to borrow Peter Bunier's simple idea: isn't war all about the many bullying the few, the strong oppressing the weak (facepalm)?]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)