Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 791 - 69 Torrential

Chapter 791: Chapter 69 Torrential Chapter 791: Chapter 69 Torrential The battle started without any sense of ceremony.

The sound of horns and military drums echoed along both banks of the Panto River, as the Terdun Cavalry charged into the shallows, heading towards the Iron Peak County militia on the north bank.

Bard took a deep breath, pulled out a flat-headed arrow, and nocked it onto his bow.

He sank his shoulders, extended his left arm, half-turned his elbow, shifted his weight onto his left leg while reaching forward with his upper body, and pulled the bowstring back to his ear in a slightly awkward posture.

To master his 140-pound longbow, Bard’s arms, back, and abdominal muscles were all exerting force.

His back muscles bulged, his waist and abdomen tightened, the veins in his arms swelled, and his left hand, which was holding the bow, had turned a painful red.

The process of shooting an arrow was both long and fleeting: the bowstring and the bow made a delicate sound from the tension, and Bard’s body trembled slightly.

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Strictly speaking, he wasn’t aiming since his line of sight wasn’t directly aligned with the arrow.

His target wasn’t a fixed bullseye, but an enemy galloping on horseback.

He wasn’t even holding the bow so much as bracing the bow against the heel of his hand, using his fingers for assistance.

At a certain moment, as if his heart suddenly stopped or a cold breeze swept over his spine, Bard followed his instinct and relaxed his right hand.

The bowstring sounded like a plucked string instrument, propelling the arrow swiftly from the bow.

The arrow flew astonishingly close to the water’s surface, hitting a Terdun Cavalryman shooting arrows while galloping, ten meters away.

After a brief delay, the flat, sharp arrowhead pierced through the robe, skin, and flesh, plunging deeply into the lung below the left rib, until its energy was spent.

Air poured into the chest cavity, blood and lung bubbles rushed back into the windpipe, and the struck Terdun man instantly lost his strength. He clutched his throat and tumbled from the saddle, plunging into the knee-deep river.

The battle’s prologue was heralded by this single arrow, and seeing the enemy fall from his horse, the militia couldn’t help but cheer excitedly.

Bard didn’t witness this scene because he didn’t care about the battle outcome.

Only rookies who were new to battle would release an arrow and then eagerly watch its feathery trail, cheering if it hit and fretting if it missed.

While the stricken man was still atop his horse, Bard had already drawn another arrow and readied his bow once more.

If every member of the militia had even half of Bard’s archery skill, repelling this small group of over a hundred Terdun Cavalry wouldn’t be difficult.

Unfortunately, most of the militia didn’t.

As a result, as soon as the battle commenced, the Iron Peak County militia, outnumbering their enemy four to one, were subtly suppressed by the Terdun forces.

If it weren’t for the fences and chevaux-de-frise Bard had preemptively placed along the riverbank, his men would have been crushed by the Terdun Cavalry’s initial charge.

The militia archers shot in a way similar to Bard: four fingers on the string, body leaning forward, bundles of arrows stuck in the ground at their feet, shooting one and then grabbing another.

The Terdun Cavalry, on the other hand, used a completely different shooting method: they stood up in the stirrups, holding both bow and arrow in the left hand, thumb nocking the string; like a gust of wind they swept past the front, loosing several arrows in rapid succession while galloping, breaking away after each shot.

Hail-like arrows accompanied by thunderous hoofbeats descended—the intimidation of mounted archery was truly frightening.

If it weren’t for the stern military discipline of the displaced people’s camp and the presence of supervisory teams, many of the militia would have already fled in panic.

“Cowards! What are you scared of?!” Ish, carrying a rattan whip, walked among the militia, barking harshly.

He grew vicious, lashing out with his whip at the trembling militia who hid behind their shields: “Think of your wives and children! No hiding allowed! Deserters will be hanged!”

With the encouragement, coercion, and even threats from various non-coms, even the timid militia stood up and shakily fought back against the Terdun men.

For the militia, bows and arrows were also luxuries; half of them carried only rudimentary slings.

Slings had one advantage—there was no shortage of ammunition as stones were everywhere on the riverbank.

Occasionally, a militiaman was struck by an errant arrow, screaming for help, and immediately someone would carry him to the rear to avoid affecting morale.

Just as often, Terdun men would fall from their horses, their fate much more pitiful. With no one to help, they were sometimes trampled by passing cavalry, their entrails spread across the field.

“Full draw! Don’t waste your damned arrows!” Ish fumed, seeing some of the militia carelessly releasing their arrows: “Don’t aim at the men! Shoot the barbarians’ horses! Fire two horse lengths ahead of them!”

The shallows the two forces were contesting over had no official name; the people of Iron Peak County simply called it the “Ford” or “Panto River Ford.”

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There was a time when Horse Palm Ivan’s bandit group ambushed caravans from Wolf Town here.

Now it was Bard’s turn to defend this spot against the Terdun men.

The repeated bloodshed at this location was no coincidence.

Being a tributary, the Panto River didn’t carry as much water as the Big Horn River, but the mountainous forests along its banks were dense, and there weren’t many suitable crossing points.

For a long time, there had only been two routes to cross the Panto River:

You could either go through Shizhen, where the terrain was flat and the river narrow, with a bridge spanning the water, or use the shallows between Blackwater Town and Niutigu Valley—the “Ford.”

From a geographic standpoint, the Ford was the gateway to Iron Peak County. It was inevitable that the Terdun men would attack and the locals would defend, leading to a brutal struggle for control over these shallows.

After curtly enduring the first few exchanges of arrows, the numeric superiority of the Iron Peak County militia began to take shape.

Prioritizing firing speed, the Terdun mounted archers’ accuracy and power were limited.

The precision and force of Iron Peak’s rock-throwing and foot archery weren’t impressive either, but the militia had strength in numbers.

When the battle became a matter of exchanging casualties, victory’s balance started to tilt toward Iron Peak County.

Turu Koda, leader of this band of a hundred Terdun horsemen, observed the battle from the south bank, where the situation was clear: the bipeds could only hold on because of the obstacles—the chevaux-de-frise and palisades. Once it came down to hand-to-hand fighting, the bipeds would immediately collapse.