Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

"Baria, we're here!"

A rough, resonant voice rang out from the side, yet it carried the characteristic strength of youth, instantly making him recognize it as Bartalis's voice. He quickly turned around and found that all his fellow countrymen were gathered together; he was the last one to emerge, and the others were waiting.

A smile unconsciously appeared on his face as he waved and walked over... then he noticed that most people looked dejected, which made his smile freeze instantly.

"Everyone, did you all not perform well?..."

Kalido shook his head with a wry smile:

“We all made mistakes, big and small... I missed the target several times while shooting arrows…”

174 The Fallen (2)

The forest is cool and damp in the morning, with moist air that permeates the lungs and instantly invigorates you.

Insects, hidden under leaves, in bark, in bushes, and on blades of grass, chirped softly. In this utterly tranquil morning, only the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves echoed their calls.

The campfire from last night had burned out, leaving only half a pile of embers on a thick tree stump. The grayish-white ash buried the glowing embers, yet still emitted a faint warmth. Even in one's dreams, one would subconsciously gravitate towards it.

No matter how hot the weather is outside, people can always feel the chill and dampness from the ground in this deep forest. So even in the hottest summer, very few people go shirtless here, not even these shady bandits...

This was a camp hidden in the woods. The founders had cleverly left most of the trees. Although the firelight at night would inevitably reveal their location, during the day the dense bushes and tall trees would perfectly conceal their camp.

The entire campsite is laid out in a long strip, stretching from high to low. The reason for this design is not for any particular reason, but simply because the scarce flat land here is connected in a line.

This mountainous region is not only densely forested, but also has a complex and fragmented terrain. There are ravines and hills of all sizes everywhere, as if a mad Listerian war god had slashed the ground with his two axes. There are ravines and caves everywhere, and huge ancient trees that are thousands of years old can be seen everywhere.

The vines, weeds, and shrubs here grow exceptionally fast. A road will become blurred if it is not cleared in three days, and will be completely blocked if no one walks on it for a few weeks. Except for experienced herbalists and hunters who can identify the road by special signs and some unique methods, for those who are unfamiliar with this place, going into the forest is no different from jumping into a deep swamp.

Such a place is a nightmare that any commander who wants to wipe out bandits can hardly escape. Experienced and cunning villains are like fish swimming in the sea here. Every crevice in the rocks, every big tree, every bush can become their hiding place. It is extremely difficult to catch them.

The freedom here, almost unrestrained by human laws, has emboldened the villains to become increasingly rampant and unscrupulous. They even treat caravans passing through this forest road as their own property, plundering and slaughtering at will, without ever believing they will be caught.

To conceal themselves, the bandits used resin-dyed cloth to build their tents. They nailed a few sturdy wooden poles to the ground and tied them with vines to create a frame. They then covered the frame with waterproof tarpaulin, which became their dwelling.

As the birds began their clear, melodious chirping at dawn, a filthy-bearded bandit with tangled hair, groggily picking at fleas from his body and spitting out a glob of phlegm, groped for the tent poles and climbed out of his bed.

Rubbing away the yellow eye boogers, and then letting out a loud yawn, the filthy man finally came to his senses, muttering a few complaints unconsciously. He squatted down and used a fire hook to stir the remaining charcoal in the campfire, preparing to make himself something to eat.

The birds on the branches kept chirping. The sound should have been pleasant, but the man felt inexplicably irritated. He reached out and groped around, picked up a stone the size of an egg, and hurled it with a wide swing of his arm.

It was just a casual throw, and even the man himself didn't expect to hit it. But whether it was because the bird was particularly stupid or because he was exceptionally lucky, the stone hit the bird's head, which was no bigger than a thumb, squarely. The bird fell from the treetop and landed right in the embers he had cleared. In the blink of an eye, the smell of burning feathers filled the air.

This unexpected delight made the man whistle with a broad smile—fresh meat was not easy to come by, and robbing caravans rarely carried it. Hunting in the forest also required keeping an eye on the newly arrived creatures, so this was the first time he had tasted fresh meat in a long time.

Although the amount of meat was pitifully small, perhaps not even enough for him to have a bite, it was enough for him to temporarily change his taste.

Using a knife, the bird's carcass was picked out of the fire pit. Its feathers were singed off completely. With just a little rubbing, the yellowed flesh underneath could be seen. The belly was then peeled open, the intestines and lungs were torn out, leaving only the edible parts. The carcass was then skewered on a branch, sprinkled with some crushed salt, and roasted.

This bird was hardly any meat; beneath the skin were just bones and lean muscles, so tough that even a bite would be too hard. But the man was all smiles, watching with great anticipation as the meat charred and turned black on the flames.

The aroma of freshly roasted meat woke up one of his companions, who spat and swore at the same thing, rubbing his eyes. Only after doing all that did he notice the thing, so he squatted down without hesitation, wanting to share a portion.

The man wasn't stingy at all; seeing the meat was almost cooked, he reached out and tore off half, handing it to his companion. The two of them, somewhat bewildered, hastily ate the half-cooked meat and began their morning chat.

"Why hasn't the boss taken us out to 'do business' these past few days? Isn't this the time when we can make the most money? If this keeps up, we won't be able to collect our share for the 'big shot'... I don't want to mess with that guy."

"Nobody wants to mess with him. Everyone knows how those troublemakers disappeared in this forest. But the boss said things are getting tense these days, with a lot of red-skinned wolf cubs patrolling the area. He told us to stay out of the way and wait for things to calm down... You don't want to be skinned alive and hanged by the roadside, do you?"

"...Have they already done that?"

The man's face stiffened instantly, and he asked his companion with some unease.

"And that's not all. There were also those who had their legs cut off and were nailed to trees... These unfortunate souls screamed for three days before they finally died. While they were still alive, these black-feathered beasts were already eating their eyes."

The other man looked up at the treetop with a deeper meaning in his voice—a large bird with glossy black feathers and a long black beak was standing on it, searching for any possible corpses in the forest.

The man shivered and hunched his shoulders, as if that would make him feel safer.

"Then let's play it safe for now and wait until those crazed wolf cubs are gone... Anyway, as long as we hide in this forest, those guys won't be able to catch us even if they run themselves ragged."

"By the way, have you heard—"

His companion seemed to have thought of something again, and quietly leaned close to his ear, as if to tell him some secret message:

"I heard we've caused too much trouble here, and it seems 'that person' has taken notice."

"What are you talking about? —"

“That’s right.” The man with flaxen hair nodded solemnly. “It’s General Tersolius, who defeated tens of thousands of Kurists in the East. I heard he’s taken notice of the situation here and is preparing to clean it up.”

"What do we do then?!" The man turned ashen-faced, a terrible fear gripping his heart, squeezing out black blood.

"That's Tersolius! A legend of the entire empire, that man has never been defeated! No, wait, this is, after all, the infamous Black Forest next to Cerisonas, even Tersolius shouldn't be able to catch us... right?... isn't that right?"

Even a fool could hear the panic and guilt in his voice, like a gambler betting his last fortune, desperately wanting someone to acknowledge him.

“Isn’t that obvious? —” His companion didn’t care at all, still casually picking his teeth with a bird bone. “Even if a god came here, he wouldn’t be able to catch us. We ourselves can easily lose our way in this rotten land, let alone them.”

"No matter how powerful Tersolius's legion is, he can't possibly turn this mountain upside down. Don't worry, as long as we wait for the storm to pass and then be more careful, we'll be fine."

"But you..." He paused, a puzzled look on his face. "Why are you so scared? It's like a dog has bitten your testicles. It's just a piece of news, and you're almost scared to death. Do you know something else?"

The man's face contorted with worry again. He scratched his greasy, tangled hair, sending dandruff flying everywhere and his fingernails filled with grime, before finally speaking:

"Actually... I went to the east to take a look."

As soon as he finished speaking, his companion stood up in surprise and asked cautiously and urgently:

"Are you referring to the area where the Kurist and Iris people rebelled a while ago?"

“Yes, that’s right.” The man nodded. “Things have been chaotic there lately, so I was thinking about whether I could go and make some money, maybe even go to that big city with some other people and rob a bunch of thieves…”

“Oh right, I almost forgot, aren’t you an Iris? ... So how did you manage to come back alive? Weren’t all the Iris in Cerisonas slaughtered? I heard that thousands of stakes were driven into the ground outside Coryate, and they were all covered with Iris. The wild dogs there have gotten quite fat.”

Despite hearing the horrific stories of his own people, the man remained indifferent, like a bystander.

"It's all thanks to my quick thinking. When they were capturing the Iris people later, I put up a sign beforehand and disguised myself as a ranch worker, which saved me from being caught... Luckily, that kid looks like me, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to fool him."

"Later, when I was fleeing for my life, I heard that the Kurist people had suffered a defeat and tens of thousands of people had died. I was momentarily confused and thought that I might be able to go there and make some money."

"You've really gone mad. Who would willingly rush into the battlefield? Aren't you afraid of being mistaken for a spy and having your head chopped off?"

"But I simply don't have the guts to go to the battlefield... Do you know why?"

"What's wrong? Did you see something?"

"—That's right, as I was walking upstream, I saw a pile of Kurist corpses floating down... It was the first time I'd ever seen so many dead people, they'd blocked such a wide river! At first I thought someone was dropping logs upstream, they were all bloated from being soaked... Later I heard that these were guys who were killed in the river while trying to escape."

"Just think, the people who died in the river alone have blocked it up. How many died on the battlefield? Those Kurist people weren't cowards, but they were slaughtered like pigs in a pen... I wouldn't even look at someone who did such a thing! Let alone oppose him!"

At this point, the two fell silent, and after a long while, they shivered in unison—at the same time, they felt genuinely fortunate to be in such a good place, without having to worry about being captured.

"It's alright, don't worry too much. Even the emperor can't control things here..."

His companion's smile was now somewhat forced, but he still managed to offer some words of comfort.

Apart from the two of them, everyone else was still fast asleep. Since they had entered this line of work, they were all lawless and could not possibly go to bed early or get up early. They all slept until they were comfortable.

So the only sound in the entire camp was their dry laughter, so hoarse and unpleasant, almost as loud as the cawing of the crow overhead...

Wait, a crow is cawing!

The two seasoned bandits finally reacted, their faces showing terror, but before they could make a move, the bushes beside them rustled slightly, and a sharp arrow shot out, piercing their throats. Accompanied by the horrifying gurgling sound of blood and froth being coughed up, the two bandits, who had just been full of energy, quickly fell silent.

A faint rustling sound came from the nearby grass and began to spread throughout the camp, as if a group of venomous snakes were swimming together.

…………

"Boss, there are two left alive. Should we keep them for questioning?"

Blood soaked the inside of the tent. The large amount of blood sprayed from the severed bodies by the long scythe and greatsword had a strong diffusion force, turning the small camp completely crimson.

Two terrified thugs were dragged in front of Colin, their faces and beards covered in blood, clearly from their recently deceased comrade.

"Kill them both, they're just two small fry, useless... If you hadn't been such an idiot and killed their leader, we wouldn't have made this wasted trip!"

Amidst his boss's shouts, Warif sheepishly drew his greatsword from his back and, as easily as cutting vines in a bush, felled the two thugs to the ground.

"Who told that guy to sleep on the very outermost edge... What kind of boss is that..."

175 The Fallen (3)

Amidst the rapid and crisp sound of hooves, a powerful steed with long, slender hooves carried its master at an astonishing speed toward the city before them. As the horse panted heavily, a layer of hot sweat soaked through its downy hair and dampened the padding under the saddle, while its master was also drenched in sweat.

The messenger, dressed in red with a hat adorned with red feathers and a flag bearing a special symbol on his saddle, was given way by all pedestrians and caravans on the road, and no one dared to obstruct him.

Although the autumn sun has become much gentler, prolonged exposure still brings a terrible heat. The wind blowing in your face constantly carries away the heat, causing the sweat on your face to dry and then wet again, leaving behind a white, shimmering powder—that is dried salt.

Although he was drenched in sweat, he wasn't in a hurry. He simply continued on the road at his usual pace, planning to rest at a roadside inn when the sun was at its hottest and then set off again in the afternoon when it cooled down.

In this era, besides carrier pigeons, the fastest way to transmit information was by a fast horse and a skilled messenger, especially when the message was extremely urgent and had to be delivered as quickly as possible, their role became even more important.

If such a situation were to occur, it would be a huge test for both the horse and the rider. The transmission of information could not be stopped for a moment. Whether it was changing horses or changing riders, they had to move forward along the road at the fastest speed.

Every year, people die on the road due to overwork. The fine horses used to deliver urgent military intelligence are also frequently worn out and need to be replenished in real time. After delivering the message within the deadline, both the people and the horses are basically exhausted.

Generally speaking, aside from exhaustion, they would not encounter any other dangers. Even the most audacious bandits would not dare to intercept and kill messengers carrying orders, as that would be an open act of rebellion, representing their intention to become enemies of the country.

If such a thing were to happen, all the outlaws in the surrounding area would suffer, whether they were involved or not; they would all be crushed, and the land would be thoroughly scavenged to ensure that any scoundrel who dared to defy the empire's authority would be punished accordingly.

The city remained peaceful, its inhabitants continuing their lives at their usual pace. The roads were bustling with people and vehicles, a testament to the tranquility of life there. But heading west from here, in the vast forest that occupied the only route through the province, blood had already flowed like a river.

So far, 342 bandits have been killed. They were dragged out and had their necks snapped like rats in a field. These wicked people who thought they were lawless have now met their most terrifying enemy.

The mountain people, who grew up in the complex mountainous areas and forests, knew exactly how to catch those hiding in these mountains and forests. Under their leadership, an army of 3000 men was sent into this area and is now thoroughly clearing it out from head to toe.

All roads leading out of the area were blocked, and every town was ordered to conduct a thorough search for unidentified individuals. The net of justice was set to wipe out all the bandits hiding here. Every second, captured villains were executed on the spot, their flesh and blood used to fertilize the land beneath their feet. The stench of blood lingered in the jungle, attracting large flocks of crows that circled overhead, resembling a black cloud from afar.

But for Tersolius, the bandits who were eliminated were just a minor incident. What he was really interested in was their leader, who had colluded with officials and controlled the entire trade route for five years without revealing a single clue.

This man is the real mastermind behind the destruction of the empire. The other bandits are just a loose mob. Without his organization, they could never have done such a thing.

What's even more interesting is that this person has revealed very little information over the years. Even after severely torturing the captured bandit leaders, he has obtained very little. From beginning to end, all he has revealed to others is his own shadow.

The most elite prison guards sent from the capital were experts at hunting down criminals, and countless vicious criminals had fallen into their hands. So, although this man was somewhat unexpected, Tersolius was willing to believe that they would bring him good news.

Upon seeing the report delivered to his desk, he was certain of it—a red-eyed raven was spreading its black wings on the parchment, a distinctive symbol of the emperor's black raven.

Tearing open the envelope revealed only a thin sheet of paper inside, barely filled with writing—just a few dozen words—yet it conveyed a wealth of information.

"They really are persistent..."

His sigh echoed throughout the governor's mansion, only fading away when it touched the marble walls.

………………

"Have you finished arresting them?"

"They should all be arrested by now, unless those guys still have the guts to lie to us."

“That’s right, the suffering they endured made my teeth ache just watching it. They would have been better off slitting their own throats… If they could still be so stubborn as to spread false information under such circumstances, they wouldn’t be in this state now.”

"We should still have some small fry left, but the bigger ones are all in our hands. We've almost finished the job."

Colin seemed to have reverted to his old ways; his hair was messy again, his face was covered in dust, his clothes were wrinkled and stained with oil, and he looked much more tired.

This was the last camp to be found. All the bandits had been slaughtered. They were quite vigilant, having set up sentries both visible and hidden around the area beforehand. But unfortunately, in their eyes, which were no longer what they used to be, these sentries were still too inadequate and were easily wiped out.

What remained was nothing more than a massacre with no suspense. In this terrain, they were no match for the legion soldiers in close combat. Even if a few were more ferocious, they would be dealt with by the well-coordinated legion soldiers. Now, all that was left was a pile of rotten flesh and a pool of stinking blood waiting to rot on the ground.

"Then let's not delay any longer. Search this place again and make sure we don't miss anything important. We'll send these prisoners back; maybe we can get some information out of them."

Having received their orders, the soldiers gathered here were preparing to pack up and leave—the corpses here didn't need much attention; the wild animals of all sizes in the jungle would clear them out in just a few days, even gnawing the bones clean.

Just then, Kochkin, who was wiping the blood off his greatsword and peering around aimlessly, suddenly stood up, dropping his sword to the ground, looking as if he had just realized something:

"These guys have been robbing here for five years, they must be rolling in money, but why haven't we seen anything valuable? They only have a few silver coins on them, they're not even as rich as me..."

Colin keenly noticed the key point and his eyes lit up immediately:

"You mean they hid all the valuables?"

"That's right!"

Kochkin nodded vigorously.

"Think about it, boss. This is an important trade route connecting two provinces. How many caravans must pass through it every day? These guys don't leave any survivors. They've been robbing for five years. They should have mountains of gold and silver by now. How come they all look like paupers? Even a fool wouldn't believe it!"

"The only possibility is that they have hidden their wealth in a secret place, and that place must be safe enough for them to be not worried."

"If we can find this money, we can really show off in front of others! We can make the adults proud and get a share of the spoils!"

“What you say makes some sense, but we haven’t found any trace of them along the way. The only ones who probably know about them are these few people…”