Allen did not care what rank of Battle Aura Xiulunte possessed.
As long as Dina stood behind him, even a Sword Saint would be useless.
Unfortunately, Xiulunte had already suffered once before. How could he possibly indulge Allen's wishes and face someone who had killed Behemoth Bearmen with brute strength alone without Battle Aura reinforcement? Xiulunte's combat instincts were not that poor.
More and more infantrymen raised their shields and formed a protective wall before Xiulunte.
But Allen was in no hurry to pursue Xiulunte.
Although he did not know how to use a halberd, Rockhammer was a good blacksmith, and the weapon he had designed was highly versatile. It did not stop Allen from using it like a club.
The sturdy Dragon Slaying Halberd gleamed with a sinister black light as Allen swung it with tremendous force. He did not even need to deliberately target anyone; there were enemies everywhere in front of him. Every swing sent one flying, like playing whack-a-mole. Standing over six feet tall, with long arms and legs and an equally long Dragon Slaying Halberd in hand, Allen continuously generated business for Wood's healing priests.
The Earth Dragon Legion's infantry perfectly embodied the term cannon fodder. Their faces were numb as they mechanically thrust their spears at Allen. They did not even bother judging the distance or controlling their strength. Just as in training, they thrust, thrust, and thrust again.
As one of the three great Heretic Extermination Legions, the Earth Dragon Legion had fought in the most campaigns and suffered the highest casualty rate.
The Earth Dragon Legion had the largest number of rank-and-file soldiers, and most of their expeditions targeted the strongholds of other races. Thus, they were often the first troops to engage the enemy.
Any race that had survived on the Saint Cassis Continent until now was no pushover.
The Holy Church was clever too. It only fought races that had become severely detached from mainstream society. It would not even provoke powerful races like dragons and giants, choosing instead to squeeze the soft targets to death.
But the other races with large populations were no easy prey either.
Especially groups like the Wilderness Barbarians, Behemoth Orcs, Druids, and elves. The Holy Church had been fighting them for over a thousand years without ever completely subduing them. They won each time, sure, but it was always at the cost of a thousand enemies for nine hundred ninety-nine point nine of their own.
Take the Wilderness Barbarians and Behemoth Orcs, for example.
The saying that the Holy Church lost eight hundred men for every thousand enemies killed was not because casualties were truly that severe. It was because after every battle, their faith remained unchanged. Forget converting them; the Holy Church gained nothing at all. More importantly, those three races were so poor it was almost an art form. After a battle, the Holy Church could not even earn back a fraction of its costs.
Wilderness Barbarians were born immensely strong, with Semi-Petrified Skin, savage courage, and incredible endurance. They could fight from day to night without needing a break.
As for the Behemoth Orcs, there was even less to say. Many of their powerful races were stronger in battle than the barbarians, while the various orc units coordinated seamlessly. They were not something a mere few Holy Church extermination legions could handle.
Druids could transform into large beasts such as giant eagles and grizzly bears. Not only could they fly and run, but they never fought the Holy Church head-on. They thoroughly grasped the essence of guerrilla warfare—turning into giant eagles to ambush supply convoys, transforming into black bears in the middle of the night to scare upper and middle-ranking commanders into nightmares. Perhaps they believed guerrilla warfare was the proper way to fight.
Elves excelled at archery and hid in dark forests with complex terrain. Their whistling arrows would shoot straight into your mouth rather than your eyes, every arrow hitting its mark without fail.
In recent years, whenever conflicts arose with those races, the Earth Dragon Legion was always the first to deploy. And whenever it deployed, the rank-and-file infantry suffered the heaviest losses.
Ever since Xiulunte took power, the lives of ordinary infantrymen had become even cheaper.
As commander of the Earth Dragon Legion, Xiulunte loved using human lives to pile up victories. Countless victories had been built atop the corpses of those rank-and-file soldiers.
When fighting barbarians, the Earth Dragon Legion used the lives of ordinary infantrymen to drain the barbarians' stamina, then had mages and high-ranking Qi Warriors enter the battle to deliver the decisive blow.
When brawling with the Beastmen of Behemoth, they still used rank-and-file infantry to exhaust the enemy.
When punishing Druids, they also used rank-and-file infantry as living targets and bait.
As for dealing with forest elves, that went without saying. Everyone knew that one ordinary infantryman was worth one arrow. Their values were equal. Unless an elf failed to kill him with one arrow and had to fire another, then congratulations to that unlucky infantryman—his value had doubled, and he was worth two arrows. Of course, some had catastrophically bad luck and got a face full of arrows from several elves at once...
Allen had already stopped striking and begun sweeping with the halberd. Every time he swung the Dragon Slaying Halberd, a whole patch of infantrymen fell, only for more to rush forward in an endless stream, as if they were lining up to be beaten.
Allen did not feel the slightest pride. He could see numbness, resignation, even despair and helplessness on the faces of those legion infantrymen.
But Allen felt helpless as well. He knew that aside from squad leaders and mid-ranking commanders from noble families, the basic troops of the Holy Church's three great legions were mostly commoners' children. As long as their families could put food on the table, no one would join the Holy Church to become cannon fodder. Their fate was either to kill other races or be killed by them.
Perhaps humans were the smartest race on the Saint Cassis Continent, but physically, they were also the weakest.
Thus, the cannon-fodder infantrymen of the three great legions only asked where their enemies were, never who they were. After all, there was no one they could defeat.
The only difference was whether they were trampled to death by Behemoth Orcs or shot dead by an elf's arrow.
So when they faced Allen, who seemed like Lü Bu descended into the world, they merely numbly thrust their spears. If they were lucky, they could pull them back and thrust again. If they were unlucky, Allen simply swept them flying.
With Xiulunte's strength, he could have stopped Allen from slaughtering his soldiers like this, but he did not.
Because Xiulunte believed in the law of the jungle. He believed that only the strong could remain standing at the end. He needed his legion to constantly filter itself from top to bottom and constantly replace its blood. Only then could the Earth Dragon Legion become invincible, retaining the strongest—or perhaps the luckiest—rank-and-file infantrymen.
That was Xiulunte's ruthlessness, the Earth Dragon Legion's cruelty, and the helplessness of these ordinary infantrymen.
Allen could not remember how many infantrymen he had sent flying or how many ribs he had shattered.
Crossbowmen stood outside the gate with bows drawn. A small number of cavalrymen surrounded the Old Castle. Giant Shield Bearers protected Xiulunte at the center, while the most numerous infantrymen seemed to have received orders from above. Ignoring everyone else in the Old Castle, they all rushed before Allen to die.
Other than Rockhammer, who was fighting Magellan, Allen was the only one in the Old Castle still fighting without pause.
Dina and the two barbarians guarded Old Butler.
Born into the highest nobility, Sakre considered himself too dignified to slaughter these unfortunate infantrymen who could only helplessly obey orders.
The squat dwarf who had just thrown several large nets outside the Old Castle had also been forced by the archers to keep his head down.
Diao Ling held a Haftless Broken Blade in each hand and could only stare helplessly, unable to offer any assistance.
Protected by layer upon layer of guards, Xiulunte watched the increasingly enraged Allen with a mocking expression, lightly clapping his hands.
Two ascetics dressed as beggars stood beside him, their faces lowered expressionlessly.
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