I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 350 In a fit of madness

An army's march is never an easy task.

Is a thousand people a lot?

If you ask this question online, more than half of the answers will be obvious... not many.

But a thousand people is actually quite a lot.

The average number of students in a primary school in China is around 600 to 700, while that in a junior high school is around 1,000.

In other words, a thousand people is the number of students in a junior high school. To understand how many students a junior high school has, you can think back to your junior high school days, during Monday morning exercises... those were densely packed lines that could fill an entire playground.

A thousand people like this need to line up in an orderly fashion to enter or exit the playground.

It would be even more troublesome if 10,000 people were marching on a plain with poor road conditions, while maintaining a battle formation in preparation for a possible war.

Therefore, from Charles's perspective, the number of enemies was boundless, creating a very large scene. In reality, the number of players who fought against the Reteria army in the first wave was not that many, only about a thousand, due to the constraints of roads and terrain. Most of the Bagnians were still on their way or watching the show.

But these thousand people are enough to unleash a devastating wave of destruction.

They were not a disciplined regular army; they had no orderly ranks and no unified commands.

The individual players charging ahead were like a pack of wild beasts driven mad by the smell of blood, wearing all sorts of armor that were generally heavy and even clumsy.

Steel plate armor, inlaid armor, chainmail mixed with leather armor... they'll put on anything that can provide protection.

Heavy footsteps pounded the mud, producing a dull rumble that coalesced into a chilling gray torrent of iron. Ignoring all battlefield rules, the players charged at the Minisian guard forces, who had just retreated to the edge of the city walls and were still unsettled, in the most primitive and direct way.

"Hold on! Linear array! Linear array—!"

The officers in Miniscia were shouting at the top of their lungs, trying to organize the panicked soldiers.

We cannot allow the enemy to charge at this time. The troops that have retreated outside the city have not yet completed their assembly, and the troops inside the city are marching out in formation. If we are attacked in such a chaotic situation, the losses will be enormous.

In a hasty effort, several barely formed musketeer companies lined up in a thin three-row formation on an open ground a kilometer away from the city wall.

The soldiers' fingers were stiff with fear, and their loading movements were much slower than usual. However, because everyone was equipped with flintlock muskets, the slower movements were still manageable.

"First rank... take aim!" The officer's saber pointed at the surging gray wave.

"Fire!!!"

crackle...

A volley of gunfire, not too dense, rang out. White smoke instantly billowed in front of the musketeers, forming a wall of smoke from which lead bullets whistled as they hurtled towards the charging crowd.

The twenty-odd players who were at the forefront, less than a hundred meters away from the enemy, suddenly felt a jolt, as if they had been struck by an invisible hammer.

Blood spurted from the gaps in the armor, and the heavy body, propelled by inertia, stumbled forward a few steps before crashing heavily to the ground, kicking up a fine cloud of dust.

However, after the gunfire, the Minisian soldiers did not see the expected rout and cries of agony.

Those Bagnians who were hit fell, but many more enemies, seemingly oblivious to the deaths of their comrades, continued their march without slowing down, even stepping on the bodies of the fallen.

Some of them wore heavy armor inlaid with deformed lead bullets, some even pierced with small holes and seeping blood, but this did not stop their advance.

The heavy iron boots crushed the corpses of their comrades in front, and the resulting fear was reflected on the astonished faces of the Miniese soldiers.

"Back up and load, load quickly, second platoon, prepare..."

The officer's shout was trembling with terror. This was illogical; their armor certainly wouldn't be able to withstand musket fire at this distance. Why were they still charging?!
"Fire!!!"

A second volley of gunfire erupted, the smoke thickened, and this time over thirty players fell.

But the effect was even worse.

Because the distance has been shortened!
The faces of the players who rushed through the smoke were clearly visible; there was no fear on their faces, only an almost fanatical excitement and ferocity.

Heavy battle axes, greatswords, and flails were raised high, reflecting a cold, icy light in the thin sunlight. They let out unintelligible roars, full of destructive desire, like demons crawling out of hell!

"Third rank! Quick! Fire..."

The officer's voice had turned into a desperate scream.

The third rank's firing was even more chaotic and sparse. The lead bullets made a clanging sound when they hit the heavy armor, and sparks flew everywhere, but they caused very little effective damage.

The player's forward has already covered less than fifty meters!
"Where's our cannon?!"

Some soldiers looked desperately towards the top of the city wall and the temporary artillery positions behind it.

A few scattered cannon shots responded to them.

Only a few light artillery pieces reacted and opened fire hastily.

A solid shot whistled through the crowd of players, tearing a horrific path of flesh and blood, instantly claiming several lives.

But this devastating blow was like a stone thrown into a raging torrent; the splash of blood was instantly submerged by the gray torrent of iron that surged up behind it.

The empty positions were filled in the blink of an eye, and the momentum of the charge did not stop at all. More artillery pieces were still busy cleaning the barrels and moving ammunition, and the gunners' faces were filled with disbelief and panic.

"Hold on! Spearmen, advance! Hold on..."

The Minisian officers tried to organize the pikemen into a gun emplacement, but it was too late.

The gray horde of players, carrying the terrifying momentum of a heavily armored charge, crashed into Minicia's hastily contracted and still unstable defenses like a red-hot iron.

The sound of steel clashing violently with flesh drowned out the roar of gunfire.

The Minesian soldiers in the front row were cleaved in two by heavy battle axes, their breastbones shattered by greatswords, and their heads swept away by flail. The players' heavy weapons unleashed terrifying destructive power at close range, and the Minesian soldiers' thin breastplates and chainmails were like paper in front of them.

Screams, the sound of bones shattering, and the clash of weapons erupted instantly.

The gray iron torrent's forwards fiercely wedgeed into Minicia's lines and tore them apart at an astonishing speed.

The players disregarded their own defenses, relying on their heavy armor to withstand the spears and swords that came at them, advancing forward in the most savage way.

They used their bodies to break through the gaps and heavy weapons to clear obstacles, paving the way for their comrades who were rushing in afterward.

The player's vanguard troops' reckless charge, disregarding casualties, drove into the hastily constructed outer defenses of the Minisian army like red-hot iron nails.

A fierce hand-to-hand battle unfolded on the muddy ground, with heavily armored players tearing apart the Minisian formation with their lives and broken bodies, creating chaos and wearing down the defenders' strength and will.

When less than a third of their energy is exhausted in the fierce battle, the vanguard will be wiped out.

However, their sacrifice was not in vain; the deaths of the vanguard players bought valuable time and space for the subsequent main force.

At the same time, while the Minisian soldiers were struggling to resist the gray frenzy amidst the chaos, and the officers were frantically trying to stabilize the defensive line and mobilize reserves to fill the gaps, the main force of the Second Army, which was following closely behind, was showing a completely different style in the rear.

About two kilometers from the front lines, on a relatively flat, untouched clearing, four or five thousand players were having what seemed like a large picnic. They sat on the ground, leisurely taking out bread, jerky, cheese, and water bottles from the wagons carried by their attendants, the pack animals' backpacks, and even their own large backpacks.

The sounds of chewing and laughter rose and fell, interspersed with comments on the situation at the front and complaints about their own equipment.

The NPC attendants busied themselves, carefully removing their master's heavy armor parts, wiping them with oilcloth, checking the buckles of the belts for sturdiness, sharpening the greatswords and battleaxes, or cleaning the barrels of flintlock muskets and checking the dryness of the gunpowder.

The air here is filled with a peculiar smell of food, sweat, leather, and metal.

There was no tension, no rushing, only an almost strange composure.

They knew very well that their comrades charging ahead were "expendable materials," spikes used to disrupt and test the waters. Only when those spikes broke would it be their turn to take the field.

However, this "composure" did not extend to the artillerymen.

While the players were leisurely resting, behind the main force of the Second Army Group, the artillery regiment belonging to the First Army Group began its operation. Instead of searching for pre-set positions and carefully constructing fortifications as usual, they dispersed and stopped wherever there seemed to be a suitable spot.

"Here it is, the visibility is decent, and we're far enough away from the enemy..."

The henchman on horseback waved his hand, directing several groups of men to unload the heavy artillery carts from behind the draft horses.

"Quickly, set up the six-pound cannon. Over there, put the three-pound cannon between those two trees. Don't worry about them being aligned, as long as they can fire!"

Players, acting as artillery commanders, personally lead NPC artillerymen to work. They are quick and efficient, even somewhat rough, using any small undulation in the terrain, a few scattered boulders, or even a few sparse trees as cover or support points.

In less than twenty minutes, fifty improved six-pound and three-pound field guns were scattered across the open ground, their muzzles pointing diagonally toward Jinsui City.

The artillery positions were arranged without any discernible pattern, completely violating the requirements of artillery manuals, yet they made the most of the limited terrain and shortened deployment time.

"Load the solid ammunition and blast it with all your might!"

The henchman in charge of directing this chaotic artillery barrage roared.

Without complex rangefinding or precise aiming, player gunners quickly completed reloading based on a rough estimate of the map scale and an intuitive feel for the battlefield situation.

Their aim is not precision strikes, but rather to create chaos and suppression.

The deafening roar of cannons suddenly shattered the tranquility behind them, like a continuous barrage of thunderclaps exploding behind the players' rest area. Fifty cannons began a frenzied free-fire at their maximum range.

The shells, with a sharp whooshing sound, traced a high arc and crashed like hailstones onto the Minisian positions outside Golden Harvest City and the city wall area further behind.

The heavy, solid iron ball, aided by the force of gravity, plummeted from the sky with a devastating roar.

A six-pound solid shot slammed into a group of Minisian spearmen who were locked in combat with the player vanguard.

A sickeningly loud sound of flesh and bone shattering rang out instantly. The iron ball pierced through the chest of the first row of soldiers without any resistance, turning their ribs and internal organs into a pulp. It continued to fly through the air, spraying blood and flesh, and then smashed into the shoulder blades of the second row of soldiers. Finally, it slammed into the mud with its remaining force.

The soldiers who were hit directly died before they could even scream. The soldiers around them who were lucky enough to escape were covered in blood from flying bone fragments, flesh and armor shards, and stared in horror at the alley of blood and flesh that suddenly appeared around them.

The other three-pounder flew lower, skimming the ground like a giant bowling ball. It broke the leg of a Minisian soldier, sending him flying, and then slammed into the waist and abdomen of another soldier. The terrifying kinetic energy instantly broke his spine, twisting his body like a broken sack.

The iron ball continued its relentless march, carving a deep trench in the muddy ground before finally coming to a stop after smashing the axle of a supply wagon. Where it passed, it left behind only severed limbs, carcasses, and agonizing screams.

This wave of disorderly, inaccurate shelling did not cause very serious casualties to the Minisians. Some players were also accidentally hit by shells from behind, resulting in many deaths and injuries.

However, such friendly fire did not prevent the Minisian troops at the forefront from holding off the vanguard players' attack. Their morale bar, which was already almost empty, dropped further, and they were also given a layer of confusion negative status.

Several companies of Miniese spearmen in the midst of the melee collapsed, dropping their weapons and fleeing back in disarray, much to the delight of the vanguard players.

However, as a volley of cannonballs came down from the walls of Golden Harvest City, smashing several dozen players into mincemeat, the fleeing Minisians stopped and turned back to continue fighting... It was the musketeers below the walls who opened fire indiscriminately.

It is obvious that the fleeing ones are dead.

The Minisian general who commanded the battle was ruthless and his orders were exceptionally decisive.

The meat grinder continued, with artillery from both sides bombarding the two poor souls on either side of the battlefield.

The casualty rate of the vanguard players began to soar. Although the front line was still stubbornly advancing towards Golden Harvest City thanks to their efforts, the pace of advancement was getting slower and slower.

Chris, who was in the rear, only needed to look through his binoculars for a short while to know the result.

"The vanguard did their best."

Chris's voice was calm and even, without the slightest hint of emotion.

"They can only hold out for another twenty minutes at most before they are completely wiped out... Order the main force of the Second Army Group to end its rest and immediately deploy into an attack formation to prepare for the advance!"
Before the vanguard runs out of options, a replacement attacking line must be found.

The First Army must also deploy and advance its lines within these twenty minutes!

"Yes, Your Highness!"

The messenger immediately mounted his horse and galloped away.

Chris’s gaze shifted to the messenger and mouthpiece of the siege artillery regiment beside him, a young officer with short chestnut hair and gunpowder burn scars on his face.

"What is the deployment of the siege artillery regiment? When will they be able to speak about their 12-pound and 16-pound heavy artillery?"

The artillery regimental captain knelt on one knee, speaking quickly and clearly.

"Your Highness, the heavy artillery regiment is deployed at 'Rock Hill,' a pre-planned location two kilometers southwest of Golden Harvest City! The terrain there is high, offering excellent firing arcs and avoiding the threat of stray bullets from the main battlefield, but..."

He paused, a serious look appearing on his face.

"Moving the 16-pound cannon was too difficult. The muddy road had the cannon carriage stuck very deep. Engineers were laying temporary wooden tracks, and the horses and men were doing their best."

It is estimated that...it will take at least another forty minutes for the heavy artillery to be set up and test-fired. The 12-pound cannons are progressing slightly faster; some gun positions have already begun securing their mounts and loading ammunition, and the first salvo is expected to be launched within half an hour!

"Forty minutes... half an hour..."

Chris tapped his fingers lightly on the hilt of his sword, his gaze once again falling on the walls of Golden Harvest City, which, though not particularly imposing, appeared exceptionally sturdy thanks to the support of the Minieses.

Time, time is what he lacks most. The window of opportunity that the vanguard gained with their lives is rapidly passing, and the cavalry of Leteria could appear on the horizon at any moment.

Theoretically, at this point, the Retalians should have just realized something was wrong; they wouldn't have set off so early. But this was just a prediction. Chris couldn't know the actual situation. The sooner he defeated the Minisians, the more likely he was to win the final battle.

"too slow."

Chris's voice was undeniably cold.

“Go back and immediately tell the commander of ‘Rock’ Heights, I don’t care what method he uses… use ten times the manpower to drag it, blast open the mud pit with gunpowder, and exhaust the horses to death!”

I only want to hear the first roar of a 16-pound cannon within 30 minutes; 12-pound cannons must fire within 20 minutes. Anyone who delays will be court-martialed!

"As you command, Your Highness!"

(End of this chapter)