Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 753 - 55 Confrontation_3

Chapter 753: Chapter 55 Confrontation_3 Chapter 753: Chapter 55 Confrontation_3 “`

It seemed as if hundreds or thousands of men were roaring at once, “Uukhai!”

“It’s an ambush! Idiots! The sentry is dead!” Fat Taltai cursed nonstop, “Pull the men back!”

But it was too late. Two muffled booms sounded from across the river, and the piercing bugle calls cut through the thin mist, echoing along both banks of the Big Horn River.

Captain Thomas sprang out of the field path, holding a pig-hunting spear and charging at the very front.

To Thomas’s surprise, someone was even ahead of him: a short figure holding a pig-hunting spear horizontally charged into the mist, howling.

Ever since that ramshackle shack was burned down, Dwarf Peter hadn’t said a word. He didn’t cry or laugh, would eat when given food, drink when given drink, living like a walking corpse.

Even as Captain Thomas repeatedly assured him, promising to help him rebuild his house after they defeated the Herd Barbarians, it failed to spark any light in Dwarf Peter’s eyes.

...

However, at this very moment, Dwarf Peter was howling and charging toward the riverbank like a madman, which shocked his comrades.

When the shack with a big hole in its roof and leaking walls was burned down, a piece of Peter Buniel’s heart turned hollow as well.

But now, that missing part was filled with hatred and rage.

Peter Buniel didn’t dare to hate the “Blood Wolf” who had given him his surname, nor did he want to hate the company commander who treated him like a brother. He could only hate the Herd Barbarians.

The damned Herd Barbarians!

The cursed Herd Barbarians!

Why did you have to come here?

I’ll kill you all!

The hundred or so Terdun people crossing the river huddled together, backs against the water; the mist hadn’t yet lifted, and they could only hear the sound of war cries coming from all directions.

“Spread out! Don’t bunch up!” a red-plumed Hong Lingyu junior leader yelled at the top of his lungs, “Spread out!”

Apart from Hong Lingyu, not a single person from the East Bank of Terdun was wearing armor—wearing armor on a boat meant sinking if you fell overboard, and their only weapons were horn bows and curved blades.

Each person was eager to press toward the shore, into the safety of the crowd, leaving no room to even draw a bow.

Hong Lingyu became fierce, pulling his subordinates out of the crowd one by one, “Spread out and notch your arrows!”

The cries of battle drew nearer and nearer; some Terdun people couldn’t bear the psychological pressure, loosened their bowstrings, and shot arrows into the pale mist.

The arrows were swallowed by the white fog, and it was unknown whether they hit anyone.

Other Terdun people followed suit, shooting wherever they heard noise.

The people on the other bank were frantically paddling, dragging the leather rafts across the river.

Hong Lingyu watched anxiously.

The Herders generally believed that a bowman’s first twelve arrows were his “best,” and after that, the archer’s strength would gradually wane, thus affecting accuracy, power, and the speed of shooting.

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However, due to the psychological pressure, the Terdun people had already wasted their “best arrows” shooting at the mist.

“Stop!” Hong Lingyu, frustrated and angry, lashed at his subordinates with his whip, “Don’t shoot until you see two-legged men! Shoot only when you see them!”

Suddenly, a great force came from behind, and amid his subordinates’ exclamations of alarm, Hong Lingyu, who was standing at the forefront of the crowd, was violently knocked down by a short Paratu soldier charging out of the white mist.

The pig-hunting spear couldn’t penetrate the breastplate; Hong Lingyu’s ribs were crushed by sheer brute force, and he fell flat to the ground.

Hong Lingyu struggled to get up, but the small Paratu man, like a madman, kept pounding down on Hong Lingyu’s back, as if he was executing a hated enemy.

The stunned Terdun people had never seen such ferocity, not even amongst the Herders.

“Shoot him! Ah!” Hong Lingyu spat blood from the beating over his armor and even heard the crisp sound of his spine breaking, “Shoot him!”

The Terdun archers finally came to their senses and shakily drew their bows and notched arrows.

“Die!” Another tall Paratu man leapt out from behind the white mist, lunging at the Terdun people without hesitation.

The large Paratu man’s pig-hunting spear aimed straight for the throat of the Terdun man in front of him, only pausing slightly as it reached the windpipe before piercing through to the spine.

The Terdun man screamed, clutching the spear shaft.

The tall Paratu man tried to pull back his pig-hunting spear, but the Terdun man refused to let go.

If he had been a new soldier, he might have foolishly played tug-of-war with the Terdun man at this moment.

“`

But the tall Paratu soldier was Captain Thomas, and seeing the spear shaft seized, he made a snap decision to let go of the spear and draw his sword without paying any more attention to the barbarian with the long spear in his throat, swinging his blade at others.

The event happened in an instant, with more and more Iron Peak County Soldiers emerging from the white fog.

Upon seeing the hundreds of Terdun people on the riverbank, the soldiers of the first company mostly froze in shock before crying out and rushing towards the enemy.

Both sides commenced a chaotic fight within the thin mist, those in leather coats were Herders, those in cloth were Paratu People, with each face twisted in ferocity, and jaws clenched tight.

The already crazed Dwarf Peter kept fiercely smashing Blood Wolf with blow after blow, even though the tip of his boar spear had snapped off, he continued to use the broken spear to smash.

Blood Wolf screamed incessantly, continually scratching at the ground trying to rise, but his lower body wouldn’t respond anymore.

A strong wind howled in, dispersing the thin mist in an instant.

With the fog that obscured their view now gone, the plump Taltai on the opposite shore immediately commanded his troops to loose arrows.

Arrows poured down onto the East Bank like hail, flying indiscriminately at those engaged in the fierce battle.

It was at this moment that Bart Xialing arrived at the battlefield with the second company.

Upon surveying the situation at the shore, Bart Xialing cursed in dismay.

The Herd Barbarians had no way to retreat, and the first company was in high spirits, both sides at the bank had already seen red in the heat of battle.

And the barbarians across the river were clearly not planning to rescue their comrades but to kill as many Paratu People as possible.

“Company commander, should we go in?” the sergeant, “Nine Fingers,” asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together.

“Go in my ass!” Bart Xialing roared, “Sound the retreat!”

“Retreat?”

“Just blow the damn signal!”

The melody of retreat began to sound.

Captain Thomas, although confused, still bellowed the command to the surrounding soldiers, “Retreat!”

“Retreat!” echoed the NCO of the first company, repeating the command and pulling the bloodthirsty soldiers next to him away from the battlefield.

As Thomas passed by Peter Buniel, he noticed the latter still furiously pounding the back of a Blood Wolf.

The Blood Wolf was barely clinging to life, astonishingly not yet dead.

Thomas kicked Dwarf Peter aside, lifted the armor flap behind Blood Wolf’s neck, and mercifully ended the suffering of the dying Blood Wolf.

“Enough,” Thomas said sternly, pulling the distraught Dwarf Peter back toward the starting position of the attack.

The Terdun people on the East Bank fought solely on their will, becoming bewildered when they suddenly lost their enemy.

“Herde Language rafts!” exclaimed one Terdun man, dropping his weapon, shouting with joy, “Herde Language rafts are coming!”

This cry sounded like a starting gun, and the surviving Terdun people scrambled towards the sheepskin rafts that had not yet reached the shore.

“Herde Language don’t leave me here!” cried out a severely wounded Terdun man, beseeching miserably, “Herde Language don’t leave me here!”

But no one paid any attention, and those who were still alive in the desperate situation became utterly selfish.

“Herde Language It’s over!” The incensed plump Taltai threw his riding whip into the river viciously.

“Herde Language Surrender for mercy!” shouted the soldiers of the second company in broken Herde language, forming a loose line as they advanced towards the shore, “Herde Language Surrender for mercy!”

Bart Xialing wasn’t leading at the very front; he remained on the higher ground of the riverbank, frowning as he observed the situation on the battlefield.

Sergeant “Nine Fingers,” following Bart Xialing’s orders, cut the connecting hide rope between the two banks immediately.

The Terdun people’s sheepskin rafts were carried downstream unexpectedly by the river.

The Terdun people, having lost their will to resist, dropped their weapons and kneeled to surrender.

Seeing that all was lost, the Terdun people on the opposite bank fired a few rounds of arrows symbolically, then ceased to waste any more.

Several bodies floated on the water’s surface, silently carried away by the river.

The first direct confrontation of the two armies in Iron Peak County ended with a minor victory for the defenders.