"Retreat!"
As the sky gradually brightened, Marshal Howell decisively gave the order.
The task of covering the army's withdrawal had ended. Although the main force was only a dozen or so miles away, there was nothing to be done about it.
When an army of several hundred thousand moved together, the column naturally stretched for miles. That was not something individual will could change.
The enemy would not risk launching an attack at night, but that did not mean they would refrain from doing so after dawn.
Even if the enemy forces had been padded, they still had at least a hundred thousand elite troops. Dealing with these rear guard units would be no problem for them.
If they did not run before dawn, they would not be leaving at all.
Upon hearing this long-awaited order, the previously lifeless Centipede Army instantly surged with morale.
The horn calling for retreat sounded. The Centipede Soldiers who had been lying on the ground pretending to be dead scrambled up at top speed and raced back toward the camp.
Kuglo, mixed in among the troops, was completely inconspicuous.
However, this large-scale spectacle of the dead suddenly coming back to life was particularly jarring in Marshal Howell's eyes.
He had originally been grieving over the army's heavy casualties, only to suddenly realize that he was the biggest fool of all.
The earlier feint attacks had been scattered, yet their casualties had been the same as usual. That alone was abnormal.
More worrying than his wasted feelings was the army's morale.
Playing dead on the battlefield was highly dangerous work. One small mistake, and fake death became real death.
It was not strange for the occasional soldier to do it. But seeing it happen on such a large scale was a first in his military