Mount and Blade System: Start from Pioneer Lords.

Chapter 343: Massacre or Massacre
Even with the sea breeze blowing, everyone felt as hot as a furnace at this moment.

Both sides were deploying their formations in an orderly manner.

Kemish stood on a city wall made of rocks, which was more like a slope five or six feet high than a city wall.

But this slight height was enough for them to gain the advantage of terrain. The archers stood densely on the deck of the small sailboat suspended over the sea. This superior geographical location made them naturally invincible. Only archers and spellcasters could deal with them.

But in Kemish's opinion, how could a country baron have a powerful spellcaster when he didn't even have a wizard who could cast spells.

Rows of spearmen armed with wire round shields were stationed on the rocky slopes, able to poke anyone who approached into a hedgehog.

At the back were eight hundred heavy cavalry, which was his trump card. This type of troops was undoubtedly the most expensive. Just equipping them with the sophisticated cavalry plate armor and fine steel weapons would use up all his assets.

But there is no doubt that they are powerful. The magic pattern warriors act as riders, and the scorpion horses with a trace of magic beast blood act as mounts. They can gallop across the battlefield in the country without any rivals, and are enough to crush any flesh and blood body in front of them!
It can be said that Kemish was cautious enough and respected his opponent enough, as the opponent's number was so small that he could tell at a glance.

In theory, as long as the heavy cavalry is sent out to cut a few times, the enemy can be completely destroyed.

But when he saw the enemy's heavily armored infantry, each of them as big as a brown bear, he hesitated and chose the safest tactic.

Behind the Gaoyabao Battalion.

"Aren't you going to play?" Miriel said as he took out a silver bow from his back, drew the bow and arrow. With a sound of breaking through the air, the arrow flew straight towards the archer on the deck of the sailboat on the sea.

The elves were indeed natural archers, and even half-elves were very talented in this aspect. Even at a distance of about three hundred steps, their accuracy was still terrifying, heading straight for the opponent's eyes. Unfortunately, their strength was a little weak, and in the end, they lightly hit the opponent's chest. Apart from scaring the opponent, it had no contribution at all.

She shook her head. Although she also practiced fighting spirit, unfortunately her cultivation level was not high. Her physical strength was only several times stronger than that of ordinary people. Even with this light bow that could increase the range, crossing a distance of three hundred steps was already the limit.

"We have to give young people a chance to perform. This is a rare opportunity for them to practice." The lord rode on the spacious back of the three-headed dog. Little Buji sat on his shoulders, cracking melon seeds by himself, and occasionally stretched out his little hand to feed Levi, who was looking through a telescope.

Levi was not in a hurry at all. To be honest, the opponent this time was simply mediocre. He was just afraid that the opponent's ship was equipped with powerful weapons, such as crossbows or small catapults.

However, according to Sikai, in order to carry as much cargo as possible, these slave ships abandoned all kinds of weapons.

As for whether we will encounter pirates on the sea?
The Persian Gulf Empire itself is the biggest pirate in this ocean. It only needs to hang out the flag of the nobility, and ordinary pirates will have to take a detour.

Not until he saw that the other party had no intention of running away did the lord finally let go of his anxious heart and waited quietly to take a bite of this big cake.

……

Waiting is the most exhausting thing.

To kill time, Kemish turned his gaze towards the enemy's formation.

These Debe people, two or three hundred burly heavy-armored shield-bearing infantrymen who were at least three blades tall, were advancing slowly, three or four hundred archers wearing bright silver light armor and holding purple longbows were lagging behind, and the group of werewolf scouts were wandering at the back.

This is a classic formation, there is nothing wrong with it, but it also has no advantages at all. The opponent's commander is most likely a fool, because novices like to use it this way.

There is no doubt that they are extremely well-equipped. Even the archers are specially equipped with iron armor and nose helmets, which is a treatment only available to top legions.

It also further confirmed that the other party had an iron mine, and it was not a small one!
However, the opponent's sophisticated equipment and intimidating size do seem quite oppressive.

Of course, compared with the Blood Wolf Wind Legion of more than 5,000 people under his command, it is still not enough.

If they were a group of militia, the opponent might be able to accomplish the feat of defeating the enemy with fewer troops, but unfortunately their strength had already been tested in battle after battle, otherwise the legion would not have been named after the military general of the Persian Gulf Empire, his father himself.

The archers who had the geographical advantage on the deck looked at the burly shield soldiers who were slowly advancing in the front and shot arrows sporadically. The two sides were nearly two hundred steps apart. Of course, there was no threat at this distance. They just wanted to tease these bulky iron lumps.

When the rain of arrows crossed a distance of two hundred steps, it had completely run out of power. Finally, it barely flew over a few steps and pierced the ground diagonally at the heels of these big idiots.

Suddenly, they noticed that the enemy archers stopped at 220 steps.

"Are you crazy? What kind of threat can you pose at this distance?" A turbaned slave archer sneered.

As an elite archer, his maximum shooting distance barely reaches two hundred steps. Of course, don't expect any accuracy or power at this distance.

In addition, such a distance will inevitably consume a lot of physical strength, so the distance of their throwing is often 160 steps, and the truly practical shooting distance is 130 steps.

The other party's behavior is so immature that they look like a group of rookies.

"Hahaha, maybe it's so that we can't shoot them?" someone told a joke.

There were more than a thousand of them, and one round of volleys could kill most of the hundreds of archers.

This joke made the archers on the deck burst into laughter.

"To be honest, if I were the enemy's commander, I would have no better way to deal with this situation. Those iron lumps and wolf cubs can't touch us, and if they force their way close, they will only sink to the bottom of the sea. The archers will be hit head-on by us as soon as they step into the boundary." The leader of the slave archers thought he had the upper hand and began to give orders.

"No, there is another good way." Someone laughed: "These Debe sheep, whose brains are as old as those of goblins, can escape back to their mother's arms to drink milk."

Everyone burst into laughter again.

Unfortunately, they soon stopped laughing.

Swish swish!
The other party really started drawing the bow and shooting arrows, and their movements were so coordinated as if they were the same person. In an instant, countless arrows rose into the air and attacked like a blanket covering the sky and the sun.

The slave archers were frightened at first, but quickly forced themselves to calm down. Now the distance between the two sides was a full two hundred steps away, and it was impossible to reach their position!
As if for the sake of dignity and face, they were unwilling to hide in the cabin in a panic, and stared at the rain of arrows, trying to see their trajectory clearly.

Unfortunately, this was too difficult. They had to open their eyes wide to see the black lights as thin as hair coming towards them.

Two hundred steps... one hundred and fifty steps...

Looking at the arrows getting closer and closer, their Adam's apples rolled inadvertently, and they suppressed their restless bodies. It was a state of subconscious avoidance when danger came.

One hundred steps… fifty steps! When the rain of arrows was fifty steps away from them, they were no longer as thin as hair, but like chopsticks reaching their highest point and ready to fall, stabbing straight down diagonally.

They finally thought of escaping, but it was too late.

"what!"

Screams sounded one after another.

Hundreds of slave archers were shot to the ground in an instant, and they kept wailing on the ground.

What made them even more desperate was that they were horrified to find that these arrows were viciously coated with unknown venom.

This means that even if you are slightly scratched, your chances of survival will become extremely slim.

The Fed archers fired rounds of arrows in an orderly manner, like tireless golems. They watched coldly as the enemies fell one by one on the deck in the distance.

Their archery skills are as bad as a three-year-old child, and their discipline is as poor as a group of rogue militia.

To them, these guys were not even as good as the demons, let alone the elite southern garrison troops on Blackrock Castle.

They don't even have the qualifications to be taken seriously.

A crushing, thorough crushing, their own 1,500 elite archers were overwhelmed by the enemy's 200 to 300 archers.

It’s not that no one wanted to fight back. They stepped forward and shot an arrow with all their might. After covering a distance of two hundred steps, the arrow could only land ten steps in front of the opponent. It was like a death dividing line, with one side living and the other dying.

The slave archer was unwilling to believe it and wanted to shoot an arrow, but just as he drew the bow, a tricky arrow feather pierced his chest.

Kemish looked at all this in disbelief, but he didn't have the energy to think too much, because the group of heavy-armored infantrymen who were as burly as brown bears and holding steel shields were less than sixty steps away from them.

Only when you get close to those forest-like steel monsters can you feel how strong the oppression is. There are only about 200 of them, but Kemish still feels the pressure. He doesn't know if it's because of the defeat in the archer duel that disturbed his mind.

"Prepare for defense. Front row infantry throw spears and then retreat in order!"

This was a common tactic used by the Kemish when facing the enemy. They would first rain arrows upon the enemy, and then, when the enemy approached within fifty steps, they would collectively launch a projectile attack by throwing spears.

If an ordinary army were to suffer these two attacks, it would suffer heavy losses even if it did not collapse.

Unfortunately, the result made Kemish frown. The javelin that had always been effective could only leave a white mark on the broad shields as wide as door panels. Occasionally, someone would be lucky enough to pass through the gap, but facing three layers of heavy armor, they could only be defeated and fell to the ground helplessly.

In desperation, he could only wave his hand to stop. Continuing would be futile and would only consume his energy.

But at this time, he found that the enemy's formation had changed. The infantry in the front row raised their broad shields and slammed them into the ground. Then two hundred people began to pull their shoulders and step back, with their sharp spear tips flashing cold light.

"Oh no, put up your shields quickly!" Kemish's pupils shrank. He didn't expect that these heavy armored infantrymen were actually equipped with javelins.

He was holding a heavy shield and wearing thick iron armor, weighing at least 200 pounds. Adding a straw to this level of weight would be a real problem. And yet, the other party was equipped with a set of standard steel javelins. What kind of inhuman physique was this? !

Swish swish!
Countless spears whizzed through the air and came in the blink of an eye.

Same beginning, different results

The round shields in front of him seemed indestructible, but they were thinner than paper under the enemy's javelins. The abundant force carried the fine steel javelins through the round shields easily and pierced into the chests of the slave warriors with horrified faces. As if they were hit by heavy horses, they flew backwards uncontrollably and smashed into the crowd behind, knocking over a bunch of people.

If possible, Kemish, who was pinned to the ground by the quick-eyed and quick-handed guards, would rather all this was a dream.

Now he could only watch as the spears whizzed past his head, taking away lives. His elite slave warriors were as powerless as wooden targets and were being harvested in large pieces like sugarcane.

When the whistling of spears overhead stopped, he looked up and nearly had a cardiac arrest.

The ground was littered with broken limbs and wailing soldiers, just like a slaughterhouse. Any slight touch from a spear would tear off a chunk of flesh and blood.

It was as if the opponent was not shooting javelins, but heavy crossbow arrows.

If it weren't for this sloping platform, which meant that only the people at the top would be attacked, they would probably have lost thousands of people just because of this.

All this was completely different from what he had expected. With only a few hundred pulses, they went from being sure of victory to being on the verge of defeat.

"Hahaha, my axe has been thirsty for a long time!"

Just then he saw a heavily armored warrior wearing an exaggerated horned helmet jump onto the rock platform, holding two huge axes and laughing wildly.

The opponent was as burly as a little giant. He swung his two axes with a whistling sound and chopped the slave warriors who rushed forward into minced meat like chopping melons and vegetables.

Those burly black-armored infantrymen also appeared in sight one by one.

"Master, we can't hold this place anymore! Let's retreat behind the cavalry!" the personal black guard shouted in horror.

"Yes! That's right, I still have heavy cavalry! No matter how strong they are, they are still flesh and blood, and will only be crushed into meat paste by the cavalry!" What the guard did not expect was that his words made Kemish's eyes light up.

"Master, the one in front of us is not a human being at all. We can't beat him. Let's run away as soon as possible. If it's too late, we will all be captured and sold to a brothel to sell our assholes!" The black guard couldn't say this.

Because he knew very well that people with great emotional ups and downs, no matter how rational they were before, would often become as stubborn as a stinky stone in a pit at this time, and others could not persuade them.

Moreover, he knew that the Blood Wolf Wind Legion was the result of all of Kemish's efforts and hopes. Frankly speaking, his master absolutely could not afford the consequences of defeat.

Fortunately, they had the upper hand in numbers. Although it was of no use, their numbers bought them time to evacuate the main battlefield.

"Heavy cavalry, crush them!" Kemish didn't want the feeling of powerlessness of watching his soldiers being slaughtered to continue to grow uncontrollably in his heart, and his hoarse voice resounded throughout the entire coast.

(End of this chapter)