Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Keep your voices down, you guys are afraid no one will know, aren't you?! A bunch of brainless idiots! Alright, alright, Paul, open the box over there."

A box buried in straw was dug out. When the lid was opened, it emitted a strong, salty smell. The soldier called Bohr rummaged around inside for a bit and pulled out two halved salted fish and three bottles tied with hemp rope.

The crowd cheered immediately, eagerly urging Paul to bring the fish over so everyone could share, while Oris proudly began to boast about his achievement:

“You have no idea how far I ran to find this. That old man by the sea wanted my money, but I drew my sword and brandished it, and he shut up. These two fish were hanging from their roof beams. I found the wine after I beat him up. The local scoundrels are tough as nails; they won't behave unless you beat them up.”

Salted fish that has been exposed to the sun and wind has a beautiful brown color. The surface has even been cleaned to some extent. When you cut it open with a knife, the texture of the flesh inside is a warm and lustrous color like topaz. There is a thin layer of oil under the skin, which makes the knife used to cut it shiny.

A group of people stretched out their knives and shared the two salted fish. They took turns drinking wine from the jug, each person eating with gusto and their mouths were dripping with oil. They didn't even want to say much, afraid of missing out on a bite.

This unique way of having a meal together didn't last long. Mainly because their treatment suddenly deteriorated, the group contacted each other and pooled their money to get Oris, a guy with connections, to get them something lucrative outside, and Oris always managed to satisfy them.

In the end, even the fish bones were reluctantly put into the mouths of some people to suck, and others were licking the oil off their fingers and the blades of their knives. Even the empty wine bottles were refilled with water, just to savor the last trace of alcohol.

They looked so wretched and pathetic. After eating and drinking their fill, the resentment and anger that they couldn't suppress began to grow in their hearts again. They didn't know why they had fallen to such a state—even eating two salted fish seemed like a luxury. In the past, such food was just ordinary food, but now it was enough to make them fight over it.

So, their mood, which had been good just moments before, suddenly turned sour and hesitant. They didn't want to move at all and just collapsed into the haystacks in the warehouse, occasionally letting out a curse. Before long, some of them even started snoring and actually fell asleep right there.

Such apathy would have been unimaginable in the past, but it is no longer surprising... It has become a common phenomenon. Soldiers who are not receiving wealth and support are becoming disloyal to their kingdom and are no longer willing to fulfill their former duties... In fact, soldiers desert every day, but the news has not yet spread due to the information blockade.

"Hey...did you guys hear anything?"

Orliss, who was shaving his teeth nearby, suddenly stood up with a look of surprise, attracting the attention of two or three people around him... But they were, after all, professional officers in the army, not yet degenerated to that level, so they quickly noticed some unsettling noises—the earth-shaking sound of rolling hooves coming from afar...

462 Gold and silver (3)

The bowstring of this powerful bow is made of silk and hemp, making it strong and durable. However, the force carried by this strong bowstring also means that you must take good care of your fingers when using this dangerous weapon. Otherwise, a small part of your finger will be taken away the moment the string is released.

The hard raw cowhide finger guard on Tuo Moyi's right thumb firmly gripped the bowstring, his index finger hooked the first joint of his thumb, and the smooth arrow fletching was firmly held in the web between his thumb and forefinger. The sharp arrowhead, guided by the touch of his left index finger, steadily pointed at his target.

The next moment, accompanied by a calm yet long breath, the arrow shot out, hissing in the air like a venomous snake. It then accurately pierced through the gaps in the armor, tearing through the throat and muscles, exiting from the other side with scalding blood. It swiftly and fatally deprived the target of his ability to move, causing him to widen his eyes, desperately tear at his throat, and then his body went limp, and he fell from the tower.

He didn't look at his arrows again, because he already knew the outcome—the instant the first corpse fell from the tower, he had already nocked the second arrow, using the muscles in his back and chest to pull the bow open like a sturdy frame. On the galloping horse, he accurately judged the moment to fire, calmly shooting down another soldier who was trying to close the gate.

Behind him, his squad of cavalry did the same, raining arrows down on the camp before them, causing the soldiers inside to run around in panic. Every now and then, someone would throw burning rockets into the dense warehouses and tents.

This rocket is a flammable mixture of resin oil and carbon powder, contained in a long, narrow cloth bag. When needed, an arrow is inserted through the bag from end to end, then ignited and launched. It can burn continuously and ignite anything lacking moisture.

Because of their excessive weight, launching these rockets meant their range was destined to be short... Under normal circumstances, they would never have been able to approach and shoot so calmly, but today, every cavalryman was surprised by the enemy's laxity... They had already thrown the camp into chaos with almost no casualties, with firelight and noise colliding inside, soldiers running around in confusion, colliding and tearing at each other, and some even trying to escape through the back gate of the camp.

Everything went incredibly smoothly. After they harassed the enemy into chaos, the supporting attacking force destroyed their fortifications with almost no cost. Few resisted during this process, and the only hundred-man squad that was managed to be assembled was easily scattered. Seeing that the wall had been breached, the remaining soldiers immediately lost the courage to resist and tried to escape amidst the gleaming armor and swords of the Imperial Legion, leaving their helmets, armor, and weapons scattered all over the ground.

Those who had no way to escape could only surrender in fear. Before long, the once noisy camp was filled only with the sound of burning wood and the shouts of imperial soldiers driving away prisoners.

Many people are still somewhat confused, after all, in their view, everything happened without warning, as fast as lightning. The officer in charge of them has disappeared, and without a unified command, everyone tries to solve the problem in their own way, resulting in a chaotic mess. Coupled with their already low morale and lack of preparation, they were defeated before they could even react or resist.

Many were still shouting and screaming, their cries turning to agony as the whips tore through their flesh, but this did little to quell their doubts… Where were their officers?! Where had the people who commanded them gone?!

..............................

Oris stopped, panting heavily. He felt like his lungs were about to burst. Sweat soaked his hair and streamed down his forehead. His legs were weak and sore, making it difficult to take even one more step. His back bent involuntarily as he gasped for breath.

To avoid attracting attention, they didn't even ride horses, instead running on foot into a grove of trees next to the camp. They left their armor and helmets in the warehouse, wearing only light, soft armor, and didn't dare linger for a moment, running all the way to this spot. Only then did they regain some composure and believe they were safe to some extent.

At the same time, he was secretly cursing his bad luck—nothing had happened for so long, but today! Just when they had managed to get some meat and were about to have a good meal, the Imperials suddenly stormed in as if they had foreseen it! They completely occupied the entire camp.

At first, he thought about going out to organize the soldiers to resist, but the other officers had lost all will to fight, which made him hesitate as well. He watched as the situation deteriorated rapidly, and his brief hesitation completely ruined the last chance to organize the army. In the end, it was completely out of control, and they had no choice but to flee in disgrace.

This would be a disgrace to any soldier or officer—to be utterly defeated without inflicting any damage on the enemy, and to be on the defensive with advantageous fortifications and terrain, having played no role whatsoever, his army was completely wiped out by a brief moment of negligence and oversight… He had no doubt that if the king had known of this, beheading him would have been considered a lenient and merciful punishment.

They ran frantically, their clothes torn to shreds by the bushes and thorns in the forest, and their faces were scratched and bleeding. They were panting, leaning on tree trunks on the mountaintop, their bodies covered with dry leaves and thorny plant fruits. They looked even more wretched than refugees in the midst of war.

After a while, once they had caught their breath, the group looked at each other and realized they needed to discuss what to do next... Going back was definitely out of the question, and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to explain themselves. Their options were extremely limited.

"...Things have come to this point, so I won't waste any more words...We definitely can't go back. That red-bearded bastard is notoriously ruthless and he'll never let us go. If we don't want to die, we can't go back. We need to find a way to survive."

"What's so difficult about that?" Liver wiped the sweat from his brow and patted the short sword he always carried at his waist.

"We'll just stay in these mountains for now, and then see if we can pull off a heist, save up some money, and go west to become mercenaries again. That's what we used to do anyway."

The others' expressions changed as they realized what he meant by "hitting a heist"... but Oris immediately shook his head, rejecting his idea:

“Things are different now… I think the Empire is serious this time. It’s too dangerous to do this kind of risk-free business under their noses. We could easily get caught and tortured. It’s risky, and we might not even be able to steal anything valuable. We need to think of another way.”

The others began to frown – they had just thrown away their armor and weapons to escape, and knew nothing but killing…

"Why not go and seek refuge with the Empire?"

All eyes turned to the side, and Paul, who had spoken, scratched his head and repeated himself:

"I think it would be better to join the Empire."

Please take a day off.

The author has an exam tomorrow, so I'm taking a break today to recharge. I'll resume updates tomorrow night and also consider the upcoming plot developments, as I've been experiencing some writer's block lately... (ε??)

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I got back too late...

There was a slight mishap on the road today; the bus I was on left two hours late, and I didn't get back until midnight. I struggled to write for a while, then got stuck for ages and didn't write much. Now I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open... So I'll be taking another day off. I'm really sorry (||?_?)

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463. A difference of a fraction (1)

Cities always give people a sense of security. These vast settlements, built of thick soil and solid stone, are symbols of human civilization on earth, wonders that only humans can create, and the most powerful and fundamental way to occupy a piece of land.

Having a city to rely on signifies a significant advantage. When the equipment and quality of both sides are roughly equal, attackers often need two to three times the number of troops to even attempt to breach the city walls, and they frequently suffer more defeats than victories, resulting in a net loss. Often, even with mountains of corpses, it is difficult to gain a foothold on the city walls, and in the end, the only solution is to besiege the city, cut off its water and food supplies, and force the defenders to surrender.

The towering city walls, the uneven battlements, the meticulously designed arrow slits, the commanding towers, the platforms for mounting giant crossbows and catapults... Under normal circumstances, every inch of it would require the blood, entrails, and souls of the attackers to be spilled before it could be occupied.

As long as the will of the resisters is strong enough, even an army with a superior force cannot avoid losses. On the narrow city walls, the attackers, no matter how many people they have, will find it difficult to make a difference. Only so many people can make it up at a time. If they cannot overwhelm the enemy, they will be blocked. Even a veteran who has been through many battles may face the predicament of being outnumbered and lose his life under heavy swords and spears.

It was precisely because attacking the city walls was so difficult and dangerous that the warriors who were the first to scale the walls and survive were naturally more respected and received the greatest rewards and honors. In the imperial legions, they were known as the First Blood...

………………

Diyul took a deep breath to calm himself down, while mocking his own cowardice and panic—he had already slit countless throats and escaped death countless times, yet he was still nervous about fighting on the battlefield.

The chainmail covering his shoulders made a faint sound when he moved, barely louder than the flapping of a fly's wings. The surroundings were incredibly noisy, with the sound of catapult stones shattering stone walls like thunder lashing the earth, almost drowning out everything. Yet he could hear it very clearly, as if the chainmail rings were ingrained in his flesh, and his senses extended to the steel protecting his body.

His helmet was brand new, with splattered oil stains that hadn't been completely wiped off, giving it a strong, metallic smell that almost made it into his mouth. The leather strap under his chin was pulled too tight, leaving a mark on his skin, but he had no chance to adjust it now.

The double-edged sword rested on his shoulder armor. The heavy and sharp blade was polished to a very bright shine, and the just-right edge was exceptionally tough. Even if it was struck hard on an anvil, it would not easily chip. The disc-shaped brass guard was about six-tenths of the way down the blade, and the hilt was densely wrapped with velvet leather, making it as secure as if it were glued to the warrior's hand.

He had little experience with such things, but he used them very well from the start, surpassing all his subordinates. He quickly mastered the key techniques for using this heavy weapon—controlling direction rather than forceful control, letting inertia help him rather than burdening him.

There are only eight ways to use this double-edged sword in the army, but each one is direct and effective enough that even a dull boy can learn it quickly. Of course, this does not prevent him from getting his head chopped off as soon as he goes into battle... Those who can truly use it well also need the accumulation of time and talent, and he is very confident that he belongs to the latter.

The sturdy wooden planks were covered with soaked and softened sheepskin. Rockets fired at them could only burn in vain, unable to ignite the behemoth. But this did not mean they were completely without risk. The small catapults and giant crossbows on the city walls could threaten the siege towers protecting them.

boom! !

With a loud crash, the wooden plank in front of him visibly caved in, and splinters flew everywhere, harmlessly scraping across their double-layered iron armor. A few unlucky ones were pierced by the splinters, but they were only minor injuries. Everyone held their breath and lowered their heads when the collision occurred, using their helmets to protect their faces.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly; he was almost losing track of it, as if he had been inside this siege tower for years, until the archers above shouted that they were approaching the city walls, bringing Diyul back to his senses.

"Get ready! Get ready, make sure your legs are firmly planted on the ground, hold onto the shoulders of the person in front of you, and don't let me down!"

Before the words were even finished, the sound of arrows whizzing overhead more than doubled, and screams and curses mingled together, becoming indistinguishable. They exploded in their ears in an instant. Diyur lowered his head, sheathing his long-handled sword behind his shoulder.

"These aren't newbies on the battlefield! They know what they're supposed to do... Just try not to die. As long as we survive, our contribution will be the highest in the entire thousand-man squad! The reward alone will be enough to make us a fortune!"

The crossbowman, whom he already knew well, signaled to him again, reaching his hand down from the gap in the partition to indicate that he could open the drawbridge. At that moment, the siege tower also returned to stability, and he unhesitatingly cut the rope beside him with a single stroke, causing the drawbridge in front of him to crash into the city wall with a bang, kicking up a cloud of dust. The sound that had just seemed somewhat muffled immediately became clear and sharp.

Of course, there were even more dangerous and bright things that attracted his attention... The enemy was not stupid after all; they had been waiting here for a long time, hiding behind their shields and blocking their way with five or six spears. The archers overhead could not do anything to them for the time being.

Diyul knew very well that they could not hesitate. As the vanguard of the assault on the city walls, they had to create an opening in a short time, or the attack would inevitably be thwarted. Fortunately, both the Imperial Legion's training and their experience as mercenaries gave them the knowledge to handle the situation.

The moment the suspension bridge descended, everyone had already prepared their throwing weapons. Upon seeing the enemy, they immediately swung their arms and threw heavy, sharp steel weapons, creating a dangerous downpour that instantly washed away dense shield fragments and blood screams.

In this way, the originally dangerous and dense gun formation was naturally resolved, and he took the lead, charging in despite the scattered spears and relying on the sturdiness of his armor. His double-edged sword instantly stirred up a bloody storm.

He severed the shaft of a spear along with the shaft, then circled back from the left, cutting deep into the top of a helmet. As he pulled it out, the body fell forward with him, having taken four or five blows. Most of the blows were blocked by the double-layered armor, but the tip of one spear grazed his neck, piercing the gap in the neck guard and tearing off a strip of flesh. Hot blood quickly flowed into his neck.

If he were alone, that would be the extent of his achievements. The enemy, once they realized what was happening, would quickly surround and kill him, and he would die a rather reckless death... But fortunately, he had trustworthy comrades-in-arms.

With shouts and curses, heavily armored soldiers charged in with him. Two unlucky men were struck in vital areas by the enemy's wild spear thrusts and collapsed to the ground. But the other seven or eight men had already reached his side, wielding heavy axes and halberds, slicing through armor and tearing flesh, instantly giving them a foothold.

The archers on the siege tower were still diligently helping them suppress the enemy, and the opponents in front of him were becoming increasingly chaotic. But Diyul knew very well that he had no room to retreat, and neither did the others. They had come here to fight for a future with courage and strength, and they had long been aware of this.

This is a difficult and dangerous opportunity, but at least they now have it... Everything they've dreamed of is no longer as unattainable as a phantom in a dream, so they won't hesitate to shed their blood.

With another roar, he raised his double-edged sword high and brought it down heavily, as if he were chopping wood—but the effect was immediate. Another guy who was so crowded that he couldn't even dodge was hit, his helmet dented, his eyes rolled back and he became dazed, and then his throat was cut by the long halberd extended from the bearded man next to him.

The sun was no longer as scorching as it had been at midday, but the stench of blood still wafted through the air, and the fighting would continue...

464. A difference of a fraction (2)

Raising a double-edged sword high above one's head is, under normal circumstances, a foolish and reckless move. It exposes one's vital organs, leaving all fatal areas undefended, as if inviting the enemy to pierce those areas with a weapon. Those who do this are often swiftly slaughtered before they can even bring down the blade, paying a heavy price for their whimsical actions.

There is only one exception, and only one situation where this attack method will unleash its greatest power... that is when the person wielding the weapon has sturdy armor protecting them, enough to allow them to ignore most attacks and smash their opponent's head with a powerful and heavy slash.

The instant his arm muscles tensed, Diyul knew what was about to happen. His opponent's thrusting short sword slid futilely off the armor plates at his waist, while his slamming greatsword had already cleaved through the chainmail on the opponent's neck, slicing through half of the protected bone. The gushing hot blood smeared half of his face like viscous mud, wetting the blade firmly.

He raised his right leg and kicked forward forcefully to catch the blow, the impact completing the motion of drawing his sword. During this process, his comrades beside him diligently covered his flanks, allowing him to adjust his posture as quickly as possible, and then repeat the same technique, smashing his opponents' heads from above and severing their necks.

The finest steel produced in the Imperial Factory was forged through countless trials into the weapon in his hand. It was as heavy as a battle axe and as sharp as a razor. Soft armor and chainmail would appear fragile in its presence. Only the same fine steel plates could effectively withstand it, but the impact force was still unavoidable. Even sturdy helmets would be dented by the impact, and those of inferior quality would be torn apart.

He had lost count of how many opponents he had slain. His arms, which had been constantly wielding heavy weapons, were sore and numb as if stone powder had been poured into them. A layer of thick blood plasma had long since stained him crimson. The layer of hot sweat clinging to his skin dried and then became wet again, and now it felt like a damp rag wrapped around him. He felt as uncomfortable as if he were swimming in mud.

If it were the old him, he would have been looking for an opportunity to slip away at this point... After all, mercenaries don't have much loyalty to speak of. Being able to risk his life for his employer to this extent already makes him extremely trustworthy, and he could even be considered one of the most honest and reliable mercenaries, qualified to quote the highest price.

He never hesitated when doing so. Although he wouldn't abandon his employer on the battlefield or even rob him like the worst guys, he would never risk his life. Often, he would have already escaped danger by the time things got out of hand.

They may be used to killing for money, but they are not stupid enough to think it is worth risking their lives for money they cannot get. The hyenas of war come to eat meat, not to gnaw on bones until they are covered in blood.

But now they were all exhausted, covered in blood, and even those who hadn't died were covered in wounds. Yet not one of them felt fear or wavered, and they stood firmly on the city wall like nails.

The hilt of the knife in his hand was so slippery from the blood that he could barely hold it. He practically gritted his teeth, digging his nails into the leather to keep it from slipping. When he used a vicious and despicable angle to probe into the enemy's inner thigh and sever the thick muscles, he could barely control the smile on his lips. He deliberately slowed down the process a little, making the wound tear even more gruesome.

Anyone who takes this hit will have a hard time standing, and this seemingly burly guy was no exception. As he fell to the ground screaming, the man turned his blade around and brought the heavy, sharp, plow-shaped tip of the blade down on his head. The scream stopped immediately, and the tip of his blade was covered in a sticky, reddish-white liquid.

He instinctively spun the blade to retract it, but instead of the expected counterattack, he was met with an eerie, somewhat startling silence from all around him… After a long while, as his thoughts began to race again, he realized he should look up and assess his surroundings…

The city walls were covered in blood, the piled-up corpses were intertwined, the spilled entrails piled up like tree roots, the broken armor gleamed among the flesh and blood, and the arrow shafts stuck in the flesh and blood were as dense as wheat seedlings in a field.

A large hand slammed down on his shoulder. Just as he instinctively wanted to turn around and slash with his knife, he saw a thick, brown beard first...

"They escaped...the city walls are ours now."

The few simple words seemed to possess some kind of magic, instantly draining all his strength. Diyu immediately abandoned his double-edged sword, dragged a corpse from the side, sat on its back, and steadily leaned his body against the city wall.

"call………………"

He let out a long sigh, as if his lungs were being crushed, his eyelids grew heavy, and his whole body went limp.

"That's fine, that's fine..."

"Many of us died, but most of us survived... We are the first blood!"

"That's good, that's good..."

Exhausted, Diyul's mind was blank, and he didn't realize what this meant. He just kept nodding, and as he nodded, his eyes closed, and he was about to fall asleep.

The bearded man finally couldn't bear it any longer, grabbed his collar and shook him hard twice, finally forcing him to open his eyes.

"We succeeded, wake up! You were pretty clear-headed when we went into battle."

Diyur's eyes finally cleared a little. He shook his head, struggled to sit up, and looked at the city wall strewn with corpses. Those who had stepped onto the city wall with him and were still alive were now gathered around him. Their armor was tattered and they were covered in blood mist, but they were all in high spirits, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ah...right!

He finally realized—what had all these people gone through so much hardship and struggle for? Wasn't it all for this day?! Wasn't it because they, too, wanted to be superior to others?!

Now, the city walls have been captured, the morale of the city's defenders has collapsed, and they are retreating towards the inner city. The follow-up troops have begun to prepare to launch another attack, and the fall of the city is imminent... And the first city walls they captured survived until the very end... How many merits can compare to this?

It can be said that they have achieved their initial goal; they have finally broken free from their mediocre and laborious past! Now, all they have to face is a future full of hope and light.

From beginning to end, they were willing to fight so hard, and the only reason they dared to fight so hard was this, and only this... Many people may not be able to explain it clearly, but they can calculate this in their hearts, which is why they were willing to fight to the death and not retreat, and why they would not waver.

At this moment, almost everyone's eyes were shining, but they were all focused on him, on the man who had brought them here—

After a long while, Diyur slowly curled the corners of his mouth, took off his helmet and threw it on the ground, letting out a hearty laugh. This section of the city wall was immediately filled with cheers, causing the auxiliary soldiers who were cleaning up the corpses to frequently turn their heads to look.