The enemy's artillery fire weakened, a completely unexpected delight.
Before the plan began, Marshal Kant had never imagined that billowing dust could affect the enemy artillery's performance.
After discovering this, his thoughts broadened. As long as their line of sight was obscured, the enemy artillery's lethality could be affected.
Besides dust kicked up from digging, smoke could naturally achieve the same effect.
As for magical means, there was even less need to mention them. They could obscure vision even better, with the sole drawback being that they consumed rather too many mages.
Problems that could be solved through physical means should never be solved with magic. That was a quality a commander of a great army ought to possess.
Weakening did not mean stopping. As long as artillery fire roared beside them, the soldiers could not sleep peacefully.
Digging pits temporarily eased everyone's anxiety, but it did nothing to help defeat the enemy.
To achieve victory, the army still needed to take the initiative and attack.
Deep down, Marshal Kant had cursed Hudson as a turtle hiding in its shell more than once.
They clearly held the upper hand, yet he still did not know to launch an attack. As long as the enemy attacked, their preparations ahead would come into play.
Their numerical advantage could only be displayed in close combat.
With the two sides locked in a standoff like this, no matter how obvious their troop advantage was, it had no meaning.
Counterattack—they had to counterattack!
As time passed second by second, the enemy firepower became increasingly erratic, strong one moment and weak the next, leaving the Magic Crocodiles utterly baffled.
"Marshal, what are the enemy doing?
"Magic Crystal Stones are scarce resources in the Surface World. Bombarding us so aimlessly, isn't Hudson afraid the people back home