Digging a Pit for Others, Falling Into It Yourself 2/4
In the desolate wilderness of Zhisang, a howling wind whips through the air, and withered grass flies about. In the dim, yellowish light, a procession, like a surging tide on the sea, marches silently and swiftly under the Magecraft glow. Dust particles of sand, large and small, clatter against shields and armor, producing dull, rhythmic thuds.
Before them stood the Roman army, fresh from that battle of ambush in the wilderness.
Protected within the legion, Samael, who was in charge of transporting the wounded, made way for the wagons and walked alongside the soldiers to inspect the stretchers and wagons carrying the wounded, both lightly and seriously wounded.
The fall of the Divine Ancestor Romulus was undoubtedly a severe blow to the morale of the border troops who had not experienced the chaos of the City of Seven Hills battle.
For Samael, having taken on this responsibility, he should do his best to do things to the best of his ability.
Therefore, during the process, he would naturally lower himself to show concern and care, or personally provide assistance, in order to demonstrate divine grace.
Although this behavior, which has a somewhat showy feel, contains some clichés and utilitarian elements.
The more conventional the behavior, the more likely it is to be effective.
With his extensive experience in manipulating people's minds, Samael diligently played his role, guiding their mental state in a positive direction.
Pompey, who was in charge of leading the army, saw Samael's tyranny and couldn't help but feel respect for this divine regent.
Suddenly, the ancient serpent, which was examining the inflammation of a wounded soldier's severed limb, sensed something, narrowed its vertical pupils, summoned the carved long scepter that it had dug up from the Pantheon, bent down and casually picked up a stone, and placed it on the scepter's string.
A sharp, piercing sound, muffled by the gale, suddenly arose, accompanied by the hum of an invisible magic that reverberated and spread outwards. Blood spurted from the body of an iron-feathered falcon as it plummeted from the sky, landing with a thud on the sand.
Samael strode forward, grabbed the falcon by the scruff of its neck, and casually set up a barrier in front of Pompey, who had stopped, his gaze dark and menacing.
How long did they chase us?
"Your Highness, it has been almost Tianyi."
"Tsk, they circled around several times but still couldn't shake them off. It seems the Persians are still persistent."
"Your Highness, our supplies are running low, and these wounded soldiers need rest..."
Pompey glanced back at the soldiers and wounded in the ranks, whose spirits were still high but whose physical exhaustion and weakness were hard to conceal. He couldn't help but frown, looking somewhat worried.
The terrain here is complex, with wilderness, sand dunes, grasslands, and gullies all present, which increases the difficulty for the Ying army.
Moreover, relying solely on human labor, the soldiers' physical strength was depleted faster than that of the pursuers behind them.
The Persians were skilled with Arabian horses, camel caravans, and elephants for long journeys, which were far superior to the Roman Legions' two legs.
"Judging from the frequency of these beasts' appearances, the Persians behind us are keeping a close watch. We can't let the pursuers lead us to the Ninth Legion's garrison like this, otherwise it will be a rather troublesome problem."
"Indeed, what do you mean?"
"The quality of the Persian soldiers varies greatly, and it's impossible for all of them to keep up with the speed of our army. Those that are relentlessly pursuing us from behind are mostly the vanguard. The narrow valleys in front are not conducive to the deployment of a large army. Let everyone rest for a while, and while we're at it, lure the Persians in and teach them a lesson!"
Samael's gaze was chilling, and he gave a faint, cold laugh.
Using infantry to defeat cavalry was a specialty of the Roman Legions. After circling around for so long without shaking off this stubborn ant, it was time to teach them a lesson.
Upon hearing this, Pompey nodded, adjusted the speed and formation of the Ying army, and began preparations.
Samael watched Pompey disappear into the formation, then casually tossed the half-dead falcon behind him.
"Come on, let's give the wounded some extra food later."
The guards who hurriedly caught the prey behind them couldn't help but twitch their cheeks.
This must be the forty-third one, right? The Persian falconer spent a lot of effort raising the Ironfeather Falcon, and now it's just being stewed in one pot. It's such a waste.
Furthermore, it must be said that eagle meat is tough, dry, and gets stuck in your teeth...
Amidst the swirling sandstorm, Samael remained unaware of the unspoken grievances of his defenders. He simply lightly tapped the strings of his zither, turned his head, and gazed wistfully southward, a hint of something unsettling flickering in his eyes.
After a brief but intense march of about an hour and a half, the Roman Legions, protected by Magecraft and divine power, broke through the sandstorms and wilderness, entered the valley, and began to rest. Scouts were deployed on both sides, and the legions took the opportunity to adjust their formation.
During the rest period, Samael tasted the eagle meat he had personally hunted, and promptly handed the rest to the guard next to him, patting him on the shoulder in an encouraging manner to show his favor.
Looking at the bloody foam in the bowl, with only a few ounces of meat and bones that hadn't even been completely removed, the young soldier was almost moved to tears.
While the troops were resting, Samael patrolled the area, climbed a high slope, looked around, and secretly counted the number of soldiers in his hundred-man squad.
After repeatedly confirming, the man couldn't help but frown slightly, his good mood from doing a good deed every day was immediately ruined.
In the previous battle, the Roman Praetorian Guard, drawn from the province of Château-de-Cham near the City of Seven Hills, suffered considerable losses. Of the full strength of 50,000 men, only slightly more than 40,000 remained, a rough estimate of a loss of 7,000 to 8,000.
However, the Persian army on the other side fared even worse, with at least 30,000 to 40,000 corpses left behind, and nearly half of their spellcasters also perished.
The casualty ratio between the Roman Legions and the Persian army was close to one to four or one to five, which was much better than the usual one to three.
From a holistic perspective, this defensive battle can only be described as mediocre.
Because the fortresses guarding the eastern and western passes fell, the Tenth Legion, with nearly 20,000 men, only managed to evacuate a mere 2,000, a devastating loss.
Adding in the losses suffered by the Persians during the siege, the overall casualty ratio for both sides has returned to the average, and the Roman Legions' effectiveness is even lower than before, which inevitably worries Samael.
After all, the Persian army currently numbers nearly 300,000 men, and more slave soldiers and supplies are being continuously transported to the front lines.
In contrast, Rome, fighting on three fronts, was already stretched thin. Even after joining forces with the Ninth Legion, Pompey could only muster about 60,000 to 70,000 troops.
Even with casualties at a ratio of four to one or five to one, if this continued, the Roman Legions would likely have been worn down long before the Persian army was completely wiped out.
Moreover, even if they retreated to the Ninth Legion's base, during the Age of Gods, the so-called high walls and fortifications could only provide extremely limited protection against the relentless bombardment of Magecraft and those with divine blood.
The more people cluster together, the more severe the losses may be.
The extremely obvious difference in individual combat strength was also directly reflected in the previous blocking battles.
The well-trained Roman Legions could easily rout the Persian army of over 100,000, yet they were utterly defeated by the mere two or three thousand Undying Army.
The ratio of their injuries to those on the opposite side was an astonishing one to ten in some areas!
Of the seven or eight thousand wounded soldiers of the Royal Guard, nearly half died in the clashes with the Undying Army.
Even if they lose one or two thousand Undying Army, the opposing side still has more than ten thousand Undying Army force soldiers.
Samael suspected that these 10,000 Undying Army alone could overpower the 40,000 to 50,000 Roman Legions in front of him.
What the hell was that despicable bastard who came up with this inhuman mess?!
Frustrated, the ancient snake lost its temper and couldn't help but curse inwardly.
However, in an instant, Samael thought of the Immortal Herb of the Persian Gulf, the Black Armored Soldiers of the Uruk siege, and the Kusa people who were protected by Ereshkigal's underworld, making them invulnerable to blades and spears and possessing abnormal vitality. His lips twitched violently.
Stop yelling, stop yelling, I'll take the blame, okay...
Just as the ancient serpent was feeling frustrated and grumbling, a violent tremor came from the wilderness outside the valley entrance, and a continuous black tide of people surged in.