Bloody Battle

On the slopes on either side of a north-south trending concave valley.

Two armies, already arrayed, stood a thousand meters apart.

The formations of both sides were roughly the same. The peasants, who were the most numerous, stood at the very front in the middle, holding long spears. Mercenaries and archers were lined up on both sides. At the very back of the formation were the heavily armored knights.

Priests holding crosses walked back and forth in front of these formations, touching their chests and foreheads, praying for the warriors who were about to enter the battlefield.

In the area with the densest flags in the southern formation, a group of noble barons wearing fine armor surrounded a distinguished old man with white hair and beard, wearing a magnificent armor underneath and a fox fur cloak outside. They occasionally pointed at the formation below.

This distinguished old man was naturally the protagonist who led this battle - Earl Lautz.

Earl Lautz's deep gaze swept across the battle formation. When he saw a group of people carrying the Rose Flower banner in the formation, he was slightly surprised and said, "Why are there so many peasants from Glan Territory? Those peasants look like there are over a thousand of them?"

Earl Lautz's Rose Territory had a total of twelve baronies. These twelve baronies had all brought all the knights from their territories today. Including the knight guards brought by Earl Lautz himself, there were over 150 knights, who were the core force.

In addition to the knights, there were also over 500 mercenaries recruited by Earl Lautz himself and his subordinate barons, who were the main force.

The rest were the peasant troops who served as cannon fodder. Earl Lautz himself did not bring any peasants. The twelve subordinate barons all brought some peasants, with the fewest having 100-200 people, and the most having 300-400 people, totaling over 3,000 people.

But it was truly rare for a territory like Glan Territory to gather over 1,000 strong peasants at once.

One must know that even Earl Lautz's own direct territory found it very difficult to gather a thousand peasants. Could it be true, as the rumors said, that Glan Territory has been prosperous in recent years and its population has been thriving?

"My Lord Earl, these are all the peasants I could gather in my territory. After this battle is over, many lands in my territory may be left fallow," Baron Connor explained, riding forward.

"Baron Connor, you didn't call all the fathers of the children in your territory, did you? When these children's fathers die, will they all go to the castle and call you father?" His old rival, Baron Garcia, said sarcastically. Baron Connor was becoming more and more timid as he lived, actually pinning the victory of this war on these numerous peasants.

"Baron Connor, I heard that the peasants in Glan Territory are quite good at farming. Don't let them all die this time. I still want to invite a few peasants from Glan Territory to Yoken Territory to teach my lazy peasants how to farm," Baron Howard, who also didn't get along well with Baron Connor, said with a smile.

"Enough! Go back and command your troops! The enemy's forces have already moved out, prepare for battle!"

Hearing a drum and horn sound from the opposite side, and seeing the enemy's formation slowly moving forward, Earl Lautz, who was experienced in military affairs, waved his hand and said.

"Yes, My Lord Earl!"

The barons spurred their warhorses and returned to their respective command positions.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.

The sound of war drums came from behind the formation. The rhythm of these two booms indicated marching at a normal speed.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.

The rhythm of the drums quickened, indicating that the formation moving forward should speed up.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom...

Until the drumbeats no longer stopped, the two peasant armies, less than fifteen meters apart and close at hand, successively erupted in a shout!

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

On the battle line, the two ragged peasant armies holding long spears collided.

"Kill!"

In the battle formation, Zhou Ming, positioned in the middle of the first row of the Glan Territory's Third Peasant Team, let out a roar, then lunged forward, accurately thrusting his spear tip into the neck of a boy opposite him, who might have been only sixteen.

Pfft!

Hot, bloody, andfishy smell-laden blood sprayed onto Zhou Ming. From the boy's clear eyes, Zhou Ming saw a hint of pain and confusion, but he didn't have a second to spare for sympathy or hesitation. He forcefully pulled out the spear stuck in the boy's throat, then immediately plunged it into the abdomen of a thin peasant beside him, and raised the hardwood shield in his left hand to block several spears thrusting at him from the left.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Like all the peasants on the battlefield, Zhou Ming had no thoughts in his mind at this moment, only the constant urge to kill, to kill any enemy standing before him, whether they were white-haired elders or unripe, underage boys. There was only one word: Kill!

"Five, six, seven... eight... nine."

In the chaotic battlefield where both sides were intertwined, Zhou Ming had already thrust his spear into nine people, all hitting vital points, leaving no survivors.

"Give me back my brother's life!"

A furious roar came from behind. Zhou Ming, who had been engrossed in the slaughter, suddenly felt a jolt. He suddenly remembered the boy he had killed at the very beginning, the look in his eyes... Snapping back to reality, he turned his head and saw a sturdy young man, holding a spear, thrusting it towards his back. The spear tip was already within reach.

My life is over...

Just like how many people react in the final moments before a car accident, Zhou Ming forgot to dodge. He stared blankly at the spear tip getting closer and closer, about to pierce his body.

"Ryan, dodge!"

A loud shout came, it was Uncle O'Neil from the side, who had thrust his spear into the sturdy young man's body. The sturdy young man spat out a mouthful of blood, glared at Zhou Ming with unwillingness in his eyes, and then fell down dead.

"Uncle O'Neil, you saved my life!"

Zhou Ming, whose shock had slightly subsided, came up to Uncle O'Neil and said gratefully.

"Child, this is the battlefield, not a place to daydream... Pfft!" Before Uncle O'Neil could finish speaking, a spear pierced him from the back, coming out through his chest.

"Uncle O'Neil!"

Zhou Ming angrily threw the spear in his hand, pinning the sneak attacker to the ground. He rushed forward and held Uncle O'Neil, who was coughing up large clots of blood, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Uncle O'Neil, don't die, please don't die!"

"Ry... Ryan, live on... For me, take... take care of..." Before he could finish, Uncle O'Neil's body went limp, his eyes wide open, and he thus departed from this world.

"Uncle O'Neil, I will definitely take good care of your family!"

Zhou Ming closed Uncle O'Neil's eyes, picked up a spear from the side, his eyes bloodshot, and like a madman, thrust the spear into the bodies of one enemy after another.

"Run!" "Run quickly!" "We're all going to die!" "...!"

This brutal and bloody slaughter lasted only half an hour. Earl William's peasant team, which was clearly at a numerical disadvantage in the north, faced with huge casualties, saw their morale collapse and fled northwards in disarray. In their panic, many were even shot by their own archers. Most had to escape through the steep slopes on either side.

Zhou Ming's peasant army won with a significant advantage, but it was not yet time to complete the mission and leave the battlefield. The drumming from the rear sounded again. Zhou Ming and the other peasants had to regroup and march towards Earl William's mercenary army in the north.

Swish swish swish swish swish swish...

The dense rain of arrows launched from the high ground by the northern mercenaries' archers, after accelerating from a certain height, had powerful penetrating force, shooting down a large number of unprotected peasants.

Zhou Ming was lucky enough to pick up a shield. He held the shield in front of him, braving the arrow rain, and charged forward with determination. His hardwood shield was already stuck with over a dozen arrows with half their shafts protruding.

"Throw axes!"

"Throw javelins!"

With a command, the ax throwers and javelin throwers among the mercenaries hurled a dense barrage of axes and javelins into the peasant team where Zhou Ming was located. Zhou Ming turned his head in horror, discovering that all around him were teammates lying in trickling pools of blood. Even the hardwood shield in his hand had been shattered by a flying axe, leaving his arm swollen and numb.

"Kill!"

Watching a group of mercenaries, varying in height, weight, and build, armed with a motley assortment of weapons like swords, spears, halberds, and axes, roar and charge towards him, Zhou Ming's scalp tingled. He no longer had any intention of playing the hero. He threw away the spear in his hand, let out a strange cry, dodged the various thrown weapons coming from behind, and ran for his life, fleeing towards a safe area.

More than ten years of consistent running training finally played a small role on the battlefield. The mercenaries, armed with iron weapons and wearing heavy armor, had limited stamina after all. Their speed gradually couldn't keep up with Zhou Ming, who was running faster than a rabbit. They had no choice but to give up chasing this single target and instead charged towards the mercenary legion from Earl Lautz's side, which was rushing from the opposite direction.

"Safe, thank heavens! This little life is finally saved."

After escaping to a safe area on higher ground and hiding in a patch of grass, Zhou Ming, who was constantly panting, waited for his heartbeat to slowly calm down before his vision and gaze returned to the battlefield where the fighting had not yet ended.