Direction of Paris.
A disordered group of Hun cavalry has already fled to the area near Versailles in later generations.
Attila was almost lost after Duncan’s two consecutive fierce assaults, and the guide in the army was killed. They fled hastily and got lost near the dense forest, only stopping briefly to rest upon seeing a river ahead.
"That man won’t catch up again soon, will he?"
Attila looked increasingly disheveled, sweat soaking his hair, and the pain in his lower back was even more unbearable.
Not avenging this hatred would be unworthy of God’s Whip!
By now, there were few people left around him, only three to four hundred cavalry, and his elite guards were decimated, with only twelve of the Khan’s personal guards remaining. During the Battle of Sharon, many of Attila’s elite personal guards were killed or injured, and after two waves of breakthroughs, several more were sent out, all of the Hun Heroic Eagle Shooters died, leaving only one Hun Eagle Shooter beside him.
Decades on the battlefield, God’s Whip—Attila has lost all his elite personal guards in one defeat.
"What is that?!"
Just as Attila was clutching his lower back and panting, the personal guards not far away suddenly beca alert and shot an arrow, startling a multitude of birds, including many crows.
The Gaul Region has been in constant turmoil for years.
The number of carrion-feeding crows has increased, their at is difficult to eat, symbolizing bad ons, and few people hunt them.
"Just a flock of birds."
The Hunnish guards visibly relaxed, soone offered Attila so food, wind-dried horse at that was hard to swallow, Attila took a bite, chewed with clenched teeth, and finally forced himself to swallow a little.
The injuries on his body flared up, making it hard to rise, and without eating sothing, it would be very difficult to even mount a horse.
He wondered whether the dicine had lost effect, as the pain grew increasingly intense.
"Rest a little longer before setting out."
Attila caught his breath, looked at the weary guards around him and said, "Let everyone eat sothing."
They were truly scared witless.
How could that man pursue so relentlessly?!
Does he ever tire? Continuously fighting on the battlefield, then still having strength for long pursuit, such endurance is already supernatural!
anwhile.
In the darkness of the woods, Duncan quietly retreated, his warhorse seemingly resonating with him, not making a single sound.
In fact, he had already caught up again.
It’s just that he was alone, weak in strength, not daring to charge at hundreds of cavalry, and could only wait for an opportunity, constantly checking the strategic map to see when his last group of elite cavalry would arrive.
The leader of the Franks, Molov, still played a little trick.
Although he deployed the Frankish cavalry to charge with Duncan, the numbers were not over a thousand, only contributing in the first wave of assault, contrary to the agreed plan, there should have been two to three hundred Frankish Holy Knights cooperating with the Western Goths in the charge during the second wave.
But they were nowhere to be seen!
That old guy was too clever, the Frankish Holy Knights always unwilling to be brought out, it’s still the Western Goths who are incredibly brave in battle.
In fact.
At this mont, Molov has led a small number of light cavalry to the Balrog area, he has his own ideas, before when letting the Frankish cavalry pursue, he was already quite pained, now he’s heading to Balrog area, preparing to converge with the Frankish Holy Knights, to see if he can take the head of God’s Whip.
According to the agreent, Molov was supposed to bring out over a thousand elite cavalry, but this rogue ended up giving only eight hundred, missing the crucial two or three hundred Frankish Holy Knights.
He was unwilling to entrust top heavy cavalry accumulated over two generations into Duncan’s hands.
This account will be settled later!
At this mont, Duncan looked up at the sky, watching the startled bird flocks flying far away, murmuring: "Dear Triss."
"Where are you now?"
Searching for a needle in a haystack.
In the lack of cavalry, sotis you really need a little bit of luck.
Crow Queen- Triss was riding and leading a team of cavalry approaching the direction of Paris, behind her were over twenty true elites, once temple guards of the polytheism, and then hastily assembled light cavalry, mostly serving as caravan guards, with a few British cavalry.
A cry of crows suddenly rang out.
Crow Queen- Triss instantly raised her head, solemnly speaking to the people behind her: "Follow !"
"Head northwest!"
This light cavalry unit imdiately began to accelerate, occasionally flocks of birds flew up among the trees on both sides, Crow Queen- Triss breathed rapidly, murmuring: "Definitely in ti."
"Don’t act impulsively! Wait for !"
"I’m almost there."
Versailles area.
Beside the nearby river, Attila’s defeated soldiers had already rested and were ready to flee again.
Duncan’s expression was extrely solemn, as if making a difficult decision.
To fight or not?!
If he initiates the Great Frenzy, Duncan truly becos the Descent of Ghost Gods, capable of fighting a hundred enemies, but simultaneously tackling so many cavalry could be excessively dangerous.
He still rembered his recklessly wild state during the Great Frenzy.
If he couldn’t kill Attila, perhaps he himself wouldn’t be able to escape.
Yet at this mont.
A cavalry unit marked in green appeared suddenly at the strategic map’s edge in Duncan’s god’s-eye view, led by none other than Crow Queen- Triss.
Finally arrived.
The Cup of Blood floating in Duncan’s palm disappeared, he wasn’t sure if it could be used, if it did, whether Attila would beco the true ’God’s Whip,’ also possessing mythological powers. Moreover, there was a witch sacrifice marked with three-star whiteboard beside him, after the tide of mythical era receded, even Crow Queen- Triss was suppressed by the laws of reality, the witch sacrifice was using bones for divination, repeating the process multiple tis, seemingly unable to obtain the desired answer.
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