Margaret certainly understood what this ant.
In order to gather the heretics, naturally, you have to leave an opening, and they will co through it themselves, since no one wants to gnaw on that high wall.
But can it be defended?
Margaret turned back to look at the people there, surprisingly without any doubts. Soone was opening the door, soone was lighting torches, and others were already preparing to patrol the wall tower.
Even Laura was calmly tinkering with her bow and arrow, checking her equipnt.
Margaret felt a sense of absurdity, but at this point, she could only gather ammunition and quickly rush up the high wall.
Under the action of the chanical pulley, the heavy gate opened, followed by the lighting of lanterns on both sides, illuminating the surroundings of the gate.
Then, the busy rear logistics moved chevaux-de-frise to narrow down the entrance, preparing the second line of defense. It was impossible to truly let them in.
anwhile, Lance, fully dressed in full body armor, walked out alone with a longsword, like a knight sticking his sword into the ground, hands resting on the hilt.
The opened gate was right behind him.
The commotion at the outpost naturally alerted the heretics shrouded in darkness.
As they approached, the distortion of light caused by the darkness beca more apparent, as if even the flas were being devoured.
Lance certainly wouldn't speak of chivalry to the heretics, who needs a knightly duel? He just pulled out his gun to start shooting.
"Bang!"
One unlucky guy hiding among them fell down in response, instantly shot through the head.
It seed the darkness could distort the light, but it couldn't obscure Lance's eyes, let alone stop a bullet.
That shot was like the beginning of the battle. Upon exposure, the shroud over them vanished, and they crazily charged towards the gate.
No one paid attention to the knight standing at the gate; he was ignored like a "scarecrow".
Instead, Lance put away the musket, simply raised his hand to pull out the sword, standing calmly in place.
From atop the high wall, Margaret could clearly see hundreds of ferocious heretics appearing in front of the outpost out of nowhere.
And looking at them spread out, their numbers were definitely not just the hundred that Lance ntioned.
These heretics were no more than fifty yards from the gate, seemingly just a few steps away from entering.
After all, there was only one person standing there.
The heavy pressure almost made her unable to breathe for a mont, even forgetting to fire her gun.
Only Laura's cold voice beside her awakened her.
"You have no idea of his true strength."
Laura wasn't trying to comfort others; she was simply feeling a surge of excitent at the scene.
She had the privilege of witnessing that battle first-hand, leaving a profound impact on her, even making her sigh involuntarily.
What made her feel the Lord's goodwill even more was that the arrows here were covered expenses; she finally didn't have to spend her own money on arrows.
No longer did she face situations where she finished a task but ended up spending rather than earning.
Here, she truly experienced what it ant to have support and respect, rather than being treated as a tool.
When she arrived in Hamlet, she didn't lie around waiting for death. On the contrary, aside from two days of leisure at the beginning, the Lord invited her to be the instructor for the scouts, responsible for teaching them about field reconnaissance capabilities.
At the sa ti, she was asked by the Lord to guide a trusted aide nad Xize in archery, and through interactions with them, Laura learned many weaknesses of Hamlet's enemies—the heretics.
For those elite heretics, they couldn't be killed unless their brains were destroyed.
Shooting moving targets was extrely difficult, let alone with helts for protection, but this wasn't a challenge for Laura.
"Nothing escapes the eagle's eye."
When the heretics entered range, Laura whispered, and a change seed to occur in her pupils under the hood.
Sharp Eagle Eye!
The heretics running under the darkness seed to slow down in her eyes. She promptly drew and shot arrows in succession, and several heretics tilted their heads and fell to the ground while running.
They all seed to have taken arrows straight to the eye, showing she truly understood them.
At this mont, Margaret also ca back to her senses. She had a good bearing capacity under pressure, otherwise she wouldn't have dared to co out by herself, and the experiences along the way had honed her resolve.
After taking a deep breath, she raised her musket and aid. She could capture the movents of hares in the forest, let alone these sluggish heretics.
A shot to the soul.
The musket's power seed more exaggerated than the bow and arrow, with a heretic in mid-charge suddenly snapping back and collapsing, never to rise again. An iron helt couldn't withstand the power of a lead bullet at a hundred yards.
After witnessing death in the ambush on Michelle's convoy, she quickly adapted and did not hesitate.
But she quickly rembered the sniper's requirents.
The musket, unlike the bow and arrow, couldn't fire continuously; each shot had to target significant targets.
The ordinary heretics were like weeds; only those exposed heretic priests were worthy of taking a bullet.
While quickly reloading, she searched the darkness for valuable targets using the torchlight…
Similarly, Lance's gaze swept over them, aiming to identify the lurking spellcaster. Even he wouldn't allow a powerful spellcaster to secretly prepare sorcery; no one knew what might happen.
But those heretic warriors had already charged in!
Faced with the onslaught of heretics, Lance didn't waste words and swung his sword straight at them.
This two-handed longsword designed for ordinary people couldn't compare to the [Giant Slayer] of old, but it was still hefty, especially with his augnted strength, making it terrifying.
The heretics encountering the longsword spilled vast quantities of blood, severed limbs flying through the air, and those bisected continued crawling on the ground.
Why did Lance look down upon them? Because these guys had battled Hamlet for so long without adapting.
From the initial mishmash "Wan Guo Brand" to spearn and musketeers, to later integrating bayonets forming musketeers, including full cavalry, artillery, dical, reconnaissance, logistics…
Hamlet constantly evolved, integrating forces, equipping new weapons.
In contrast, these heretics stuck to the old ways, charging in without armor and with broken helts, shouting wildly.
If they had equipped so armor, with so crossbows or muskets, reorganized their teams to leverage their fearlessness and formidable self-healing abilities, few could defeat them in this world.
But there are no "ifs"…
Lance didn't reveal any spiritual essence. Even with a helt on, these heretics couldn't recognize him. Waving his longsword in front of the gate, the heretics couldn't withstand even a single blow.
The clash between iron claws and the longsword produced the crisp sound of steel, the burst of sparks illuminating the seemingly tireless figure.
Wearing armor and being forced to defend did indeed limit Lance's movents. No matter how strong he was, he couldn't evade all attacks, especially when heretics charged with suicidal intent.
Lance swung his longsword with full force, not intending to dodge, taking the heretics' attacks head-on.
Never underestimate these heretics, the Knight's Armor could only slightly weaken attacks but not entirely block them.
Not to ntion the longsword endured more abuse, being a regular weapon unable to withstand Lance's forceful strikes, also clashing head-on with the heretic's iron claws, helts, and bones.
The ability to cut through was purely due to sheer brute strength since the sword blade had been shattered long ago, losing its sharpness.
Finally, during a clash, it couldn't withstand the stress, breaking, and a heretic seized the rare opportunity to thrust their claw.
The heretic's power was lacking compared to Lance, but in reality, their control over their flesh allowed them to unleash astonishing strength.
Now, the claw directly pierced through the armor into Lance's chest, montarily halting his movent.
But before the heretic could celebrate, the broken blade stabbed back into its face, with a curse coming through the helt.
"Fuck you!"
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