When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"Get up, you swine!"

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Under the cries of Cléante and the various brigade commanders, the entire Mayo Town was awakened, and the mountain infantry emerged bewilderedly from their huts.

Before they could open their eyes from the sweet dreams, they were whipped awake by the commanders.

Hooves kicked up dust as all seven or eight messengers rode horses and donkeys back and forth on the streets, dragging soldiers out of homes and tents.

One team after another of mountain mercenaries formed columns under the arrangement of their leaders, running towards the flat grounds outside the town.

In the darkness, many townsfolk were startled awake by the commotion, and the braver ones even climbed onto rooftops to watch.

With his head wrapped in bandages, Cléante stood on a mound, gazing into the distance.

Tonight, although there was moonlight, clouds obscured the moon, making everything alternately clear and vague.

Yet, Cléante judged from the sounds and shadowy figures that the guard posts and watchtowers at the perimeter were being dismantled one by one.

"Damn it, how are they advancing so quickly?"

Cléante turned around; the mountain mercenaries were still a chaotic mess, forgetting their weapons, losing their formations, and some even falling and getting trampled.

After all, it was nighttime, and they had just awakened. Things would be much better during the day.

The mountain infantry wore cloth garments, most donned armored clothes and plank armor, with only a few in chainmail and breastplates.

These 800 men were arranged by their lance corporals and section leaders, shoulder to shoulder, forming a 50x10 Long Spearman array and four 15x5 crossbowmen arrays distributed in the corners.

This was a variant of the Deng Jia'er Array, commonly used in the Norn Region, learned by mountain and Norn mercenaries.

Lance after lance was lowered, creating a hedgehog-like forest of iron guns, forming a spiky long wall thrusting forward.

"Woo—"

The muffled horn and whistle sounds in the night sky were so loud, while every mountain man felt the ground trembling slightly.

Looking up, the Salvation Army appeared not far ahead.

Amid commands, they rested the lance shaft on their shoulders, each step synchronized.

From the side, it looked like a pulled straight black thread.

The night wind blew past their hems, revealing the black exterior with hints of red lining underneath.

Cléante heard distinct sounds of swallowing behind him in the formation.

"What are you doing? What are you afraid of?" Cléante wielded his longsword, "Back then, I, Cléante, chased them like stray dogs running everywhere. Only three months have passed. What can they do?

Don't be fooled by their neat formation. From what I know, they must have a rope tied around their waists—knock one down, and the rest will surely fall."

Cléante looked at the sky, reassuring himself as he confirmed that Horn, the Great Wizard, hadn't summoned vampires or undead.

Not far away from the mountain men, Rudilo issued a command.

"Entire corps, halt, and organize formation!"

"Stop—organize formation!"

The disciplined footsteps instantly stopped, transforming into subtle quick steps.

On the night battlefield, the hazy moonlight covered everyone's heads.

At this moment, what stood before these 800 mercenaries was part of Rudilo's Black Hat Second Corps.

That's right, currently arriving at the battlefield were 100 Holy Gunmen and 200 Long Spearmen, while facing them were 800 mountain mercenaries.

Rudilo's actions could be described as bold or rash.

His charge not only led to a break with allied forces but even within corps ranks.

Now, on this open field, they formed a central 50x4 long gun formation and wings with 10x5 Holy Gun horizontal arrays.

Using the moonlight, Rudilo estimated the distance to be around 200-300 meters; their 17mm Kanni Di Type-II spring guns had a damage range of roughly 70 meters to 100 meters.

If quick-paced at 50 meters per minute, then they could quickly engage, but the formation might scatter, and the Holy Guns might not reload in time.

With no cavalry on the opponent's side, the battlefield initiative was in his hands—no rush.

Rudilo ordered the brigade commander beside him, "Holy Gunmen, disperse, advance at steady pace."

"First Saint Gun Master, disperse left by one arm's length, Second Saint Gun Master, disperse right by one arm's length, organize formation." The brigade commander shouted loudly, while the battalion leaders immediately yelled to their sides, "Move one step left!"

"Advance at steady pace!"

Under the orders of various officers, the dispersed Holy Gunmen and Long Spearmen began to advance steadily.

"Hahaha, look at them, they're actually dispersing their formation."

Friends often participating in cold weapon wars know that for infantry to engage in melee, dense formations are essential.

Ignoring the pain at the roots of his ears, Cléante pointed his longsword forward, personally charging: "Maintain formation attack, initiate charge at fifty-meter distance."

The silent footsteps echoed across the field, one side noisy, the other orderly.

The sound of metal rubbing against metal almost like a countdown, Rudilo silently estimated the distance between the two sides.

250 meters, 200 meters, 150 meters...

"All troops cease advance, Holy Gunmen start reloading."

"Prepare!"

The clockwork key began to turn, the sound of gears meshing resounded, and in a moment, all the Holy Gunmen had loaded their guns.

"Aim!"

Having practiced countless times, in a stance perfected by muscle memory, the War Monks indifferently aimed at the enemies before them.

For those who had experienced the long-haired zombie charge and the giant spider assault, the movements of these soldiers seemed as slow as snails.

The mercenaries raised their long spears to their chests, the blade tips pointed at the peasant army that had been startled into stopping.

What did they see? These peasants actually took up firewood sticks against them, as if using the firewood as a weapon?

Many mercenaries sneered derisively at the corners of their mouths. Indeed, as long as there were no flying vampires and undead from Demon Emperor Hos as mentioned yesterday, these peasants were as weak as chicks.

"Peasant, the guards are coming," the commonly used slogan for suppressing peasants resonated once again from the ranks.

"110 meters, 100 meters..." Rudilo counted down the last number, "Holy Gunmen, two ranks back to shoot!"

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

The giant beast, its throat caught by spike claws, let out a thunderous roar, the recoil making the Holy Gunmen shake all over.

The sound of whistling wind arose, Cléante once again heard the previous sound, his steps paused instinctively, while others around him rushed forward.

The sound of squeezing ripe berries echoed in succession, metal fragments and iron bits danced before their eyes, a blood mist instantly covered the frontline positions.

In an instant, nearly ten of the mountain men arranged densely in the charge fell, yet they hadn't realized what had happened and continued charging forward instinctively.

"Bang bang bang—"

"Ah—"

"So painful, so painful, oh mother I hurt so much."

When the second round of gunfire rang out, nearly ten more fell, tripped by the bodies underfoot, leaving many mountain men bewildered.

What just happened?

They raised their heads to look across, seeing only the backs of farmers turning back through gaps in the array and the raised firewood sticks pointing at them.

Before they could react, the infantry array with noticeably slower speed was once again greeted by a downpour of lead bullets.

The sharp whistling of lead bullets tearing through the air sounded around them, thick armor pierced with holes one after another, their comrades beside them falling one by one.

The dense stench of blood spread, drifting to everyone's nostrils and mouths.

Cléante keenly noticed, stragglers began to appear scattered on both sides of the array.

He dashed through the sparse mountain men ranks angrily, chasing and hacking down these deserters.

"No running, no running." The disheveled Cléante tried to intercept these mountain men, but it was of no use.

Wearing armor, Cléante simply couldn't catch up with the mountain men who had discarded their helmets and armor.

The densely arrayed mountain men, charging rapidly from a 50-meter distance to the front of the Black Hat Second Corps, had mostly become a sieve-like pancake, losing the former tight formation.

The Holy Gunmen retreating from the rear reached the rear of the team, starting to maneuver left and right, hiding behind the forest of long spears.

"All long spearmen, charge!"

Shoulder to shoulder, 200 long spearmen let out a roar, charging towards the enemy's weakened formation.

Like a hot knife cutting through butter, the long spearmen penetrated easily through the front ranks of scattered mountain men.

In the blink of an eye, the rear ranks of mountain men didn't put up much resistance, crying out for their mothers, shouting "Magic!" "Wizard!" and fleeing in all directions.

They seemed to see something terrifying, discarding all weapons and heavy armor, just to run faster than their companions.

"Long spearmen, pursue formation, Holy Gunmen, advance steadily!"

The long spearmen immediately formed a three-column pursuit formation, starting to pursue and counter-charge to prevent the enemy officers from rallying the routed soldiers into formation again.

Once the pursuit was completed, when Rudilo's rear force and Cheka and the military judge arrived, it was well past midnight.

Beside him was Rudilo, speechless under the questioning of the military judges, while Lauren searched through a pile of corpses.

Soon, he saw a familiar figure.

Among a field of corpses, Lauren found Cléante's body.

He lay by the roadside, his head crushed, footprints of blood on him, apparently tripping over during the escape and being trampled to death.

Standing before Cléante's corpse, Lauren looked for a long time, turned around, and headed straight towards the direction of his old friend Juer Dan.

At dawn, Horn finally arrived in Mayo Town.

When the morning light shone upon the earth, the townspeople climbed onto rooftops, stepped out of houses, crowding by the roadside.

Dressed in black and red coats, bearing black and red banners, the Salvation Army War Monks surged forward, numerous mercenaries who had oppressed them bound by ropes, walking dejectedly.

The townspeople picked up stones and mud, constantly throwing them at those mercenaries, cursing them viciously and even crying bitterly.

As Horn arrived on a tall horse, the belated cheers echoed throughout Mayo Town.

Everyone raised their hands high, waving towards Horn, constantly shouting his name.

Standing on the stirrups, Horn raised his fist high: "Friends, my friends, I have returned."