This was reminiscent of how Warwolf had easily dispatched three Knights during their charge, subsequently leading his team to break through. However, Lance's "Champion" title was system-certified, unlike Warwolf's, which was endorsed by the Spirits of Nature of the Mountains. This marked a significant difference in the prestige of their reputations.
To the Knights, commoners were re trash. Yet, in Lance's view, these Knights were hardly different from ordinary people: their Longswords were just strips of iron, their armor no more than paper mâché. The disparity in strength was simply too great; he could have easily slaughtered these Knights if he had truly wished to. However, that did not align with his objectives. Thus, he switched to a Shield and Warhamr, focusing more on the soldiers than on outright killing.
Initially, his soldiers were well-rested. Two volleys of musket fire quickly exhausted the Knights, leaving them in a sorry state. Then, Lance charged forward, felling a Knight with a single swing of his sword, making the battle seem deceptively easy.
However, when the soldiers and Knights truly clashed, the engagent instantly beca one-sided. The difference in equipnt was stark. The soldiers' sabers were either blocked by Shields or, if they landed, failed to penetrate the Knights' armor, rendering them ineffective. Conversely, the Knights' Longswords dented the soldiers' thin breastplates and drew blood wherever there was no protection.
The Knights' years of honed skill were undeniable. So soldiers were easily unhorsed. Were it not for the crucial protection afforded by their breastplates and helts, fatalities would have been imdiate.
Yet, among these soldiers, there were also fierce individuals. One, holding a musket in his left hand, feigned a shot, forcing a Knight to raise his Shield. But he didn't fire the musket; instead, he used the opening to charge forward and fire his pistol at point-blank range. The pistol ball tore a bloody hole through the armor on the Knight's thigh, instantly crippling his leg. The next mont, he toppled from his horse with a pained scream. Another soldier wielded his saber with surprising finesse, holding his own against a Knight in their exchange. A third, confident in his marksmanship, fired before even engaging. The shot instantly tore through a Knight's helt. The Knight reeled and fell to the ground, his fate unknown. Yet another, though struck by a Knight's blade, used his last ounce of strength to lunge and drag his enemy from his horse. The unhorsed Knight attempted to retaliate but was imdiately struck on the helt by another soldier's saber, sending him tumbling to the ground.
The Knights were indeed formidable. However, they had been significantly weakened by the Heretics before their arrival, and the prior musket volleys had already dispatched over ten of them. Now, roughly thirty Knights in poor condition faced fifty soldiers at their peak. After an initial disadvantage, the soldiers quickly devised a counter: drag the Knights from their horses. Deprived of their mounts' mobility, the Knights would face the soldiers' charges and encirclent. Their grim determination: they would trade their lives to drag a Knight off his horse if necessary.
Since both sides possessed distinct advantages, a swift conclusion to the battle was unlikely. Thus, after the initial clash, they beca locked in combat, deeply mired in the fray. The battlefield had transford into a brutal at grinder. Combatants from both sides were knocked from their horses one after another, forcing them into dismounted combat.
Once the close-quarters fighting began, technique gave way to pure, brutal combat. It was a chaotic exchange of blows—you hack , I slash you—with the clang of steel ringing out like popping popcorn. On horseback, the Knights had clearly overpowered the soldiers. However, once dismounted and forced into infantry combat, these sa Knights discovered just how terrifying their opponents could be. Despite their relatively light armor, the soldiers seed unfazed even after sustaining several slashes. The Knights watched in disbelief as soldiers they had struck down only monts before scrambled back to their feet and resud their ferocious attacks. This fearless, death-defying fighting spirit reminded the Knights of the unruly mobs they had encountered on their journey.
So it was you all along!
However, unlike those disorganized Heretics, these professionally trained soldiers clearly understood teamwork. The dismounted soldiers didn't bother with fancy maneuvers. Their thinking was simple: If one of us can't beat you, can two? If two can't, then three will! We simply have more n. Hamlet thrives on unity and cooperation!
This intense pace of combat was brutal, difficult even for the Knights to endure. In stark contrast, these soldiers fought with increasing ferocity as the battle wore on, as if the very na "Hamlet" they cried out truly imbued them with strength.
Lance effortlessly knocked another Knight from his horse. Only then did he realize he had charged far ahead of his own soldiers. Wheeling his mount around, he surveyed the chaotic lee that had erupted.
"Don't move. This is their fight," Lance stated, his gaze fixed on the battlefield. At his words, Wang Cai, who had been on the verge of manifesting, once again faded into ethereality.
Why could these soldiers repeatedly rise after being struck down, growing stronger with each engagent? It was because the Ability Flesh Reconstruction healed their wounds, while Bless provided them with a continuous surge of power, constantly Strengthening their condition. By defeating these Knights from the Regular Army head-on, the soldiers would finally shatter the ingrained belief that Noble Knights were invincible. This battle would grant them a rebirth, both ntally and physically. News of this victory would spread throughout Hamlet, proving far more effective than any of his direct teachings.
However, the situation wasn't entirely straightforward; the chaos had also given rise to a critical problem.
Damn it, fight all you want, but stop slashing my horses!
Lance couldn't simply stand by and watch the warhorses perish. He had to use his Abilities to heal them, or at least preserve their lives. Fortunately, the Patriarch had helped upgrade his Flesh Reconstruction Ability to a higher level, allowing him to cast it with less Spiritual Essence. Only now did he truly appreciate the Patriarch's benevolence.
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