Decapitated Heads

While the main battle formation was steadily advancing, a silent but equally fierce "harvest" was also taking place simultaneously.

The auxiliary soldiers at the rear of each combat squad closely followed the advance of their comrades, their eyes fixed on the corpses of the fallen Sauron soldier along the way.

Although Karl stipulated that kills should not be the rigid standard for evaluating military merits, in today's battlefields with cold weapons, enemy heads are still the most direct and undisputed hard currency for calculating military merits.

Every intact head belonging to an enemy soldier represents a real bounty, a stepping stone to promotion, and even a guarantee for the future of one's family.

Therefore, harvesting must be efficient, and may even require silent competition with comrades in neighboring squads to ensure that the squad's merits are not stolen by others.

These auxiliary soldiers moved with the speed of cheetahs, drawing their sharp daggers from their waists and lunging at the corpses dressed in Sauron Army Uniform.

The sharp blade precisely locates the gap in the neck bone, forcefully cutting and prying, producing a chilling "hissing" sound—the deathly sound of the blade slicing through flesh, cutting ligaments, and finally separating the neck bone.

They showed no hesitation, nor any pity, towards the wounded Sauron soldiers on the ground who were not yet dead, still groaning weakly or struggling instinctively.

Only by delivering a swift and decisive finishing blow that targets the vital points can you ensure the target's complete demise and also prevent yourself from suffering a near-death counterattack during the harvesting process.

The entire process was swift and skillful, brimming with an almost numb efficiency.

The soldiers' faces showed no superfluous expressions, only focused concentration and an eagerness for the "spoils of war."

They deftly tied the severed heads to the leather ropes around their waists or tossed them into the leather bags they carried, then immediately moved on to their next target.

The air was thick with an overwhelming stench of blood, mingled with the smell of earth and death.

The scene was chaotic and primitive, barbaric and direct, vividly displaying the most naked and utilitarian aspects of war. There was no reverence for life, only the most primal desire for survival and glory, and utter indifference to the enemy.

The clamor of battle gradually subsided, and the dawn's light completely dispelled the night, clearly revealing the entire battlefield to everyone.

The open ground in front of the Carnford City was littered with corpses, a truly horrific scene.

The twisted corpses of thousands of monsters were mixed together with the headless bodies of Sauron soldier. Dark red blood soaked almost every inch of the land, and the air was filled with a nauseating stench of blood and gunpowder.

Karl stood in the center of the formation, calmly surveying the chaotic scene.

The resounding victory, with only a dozen or so of his side suffering minor injuries, did not surprise him.

He knew that against a well-trained and disciplined regular army, those monsters who charged wildly on instinct and those scattered soldiers who lacked coordination, no matter how many there were, would ultimately be slaughtered.

Discipline and tactics are always the most powerful forces on the battlefield.

"Battle over! All squads and platoons, clean up the battlefield!" Karl's voice broke the post-battle silence, clearly issuing the order.

As soon as the order was given, the once orderly square formation immediately disbanded, and the soldiers, in squads, pounced on the corpses scattered on the ground like hunting dogs.

The heads had long been collected by auxiliary soldiers during lulls in the fighting, tied to their waists or put into bags, becoming irrefutable evidence of their military achievements.

At this moment, the soldiers were scrambling for anything of value on the Sauron corpses.

They first pounced on the corpses of officers whose clothing was clearly different and who wore insignia or better armor, skillfully rummaging through their Moneybag, tearing off jeweled rings or daggers, and peeling off relatively intact leather or Chain Mail.

The scene appeared chaotic, but it contained a cruel order. The officers had already designated clearing areas for each platoon and squad, and no one was allowed to cross the boundaries to fight for anything, which avoided unnecessary internal conflicts.

The soldiers searched their designated "hunting ground" with perfect coordination, their movements swift and their efficiency astounding.

Their arms, armor, and even cheeks were splattered with blood that had not yet fully congealed, but they didn't care, as if it were just mud.

Their eyes gleamed with a mixture of exhaustion, numbness, and greed, their fingers darting between the cold corpses and warm wounds, searching for any hard currency that could change their postwar lives.

The faint clinking of gold and Silver coin occasionally drowned out the heavy breathing and the rustling of corpses being turned over.

Karl stood still, silently observing everything, without saying a word to stop it, only emphasizing the importance of order.

He simply shouted another reminder: "Be careful! Beware of enemies playing dead!" and then paid no further attention.

In his view, this practice of looting headless corpses after a war, though bloody and cruel and contrary to the elegance of chivalry, was an essential part of cultivating a fierce army.

It can most directly ignite soldiers' desire for victory and merit, extinguish their discomfort with killing and bloodshed, and forge their ruthless battlefield mentality.

This is a highly efficient and ruthless form of "bloodthirst" education. As long as it doesn't escalate into internal fighting or seriously affect the execution of subsequent orders, he is willing to tolerate or even condone this chaos.

Soon, the soldiers' belts were laden with valuables, and their purses were bulging.

Some new recruits, experiencing this for the first time, turned pale and struggled to suppress their urge to vomit.

After all, although they had experienced gunfire, ending a life with a cold weapon was still a different experience. However, under the influence of veterans and the lure of military merit, their expressions gradually became numb and skilled.

Karl strode toward the relatively secluded little hill on the side of the castle, his thoughts still preoccupied with the "mysterious" help that had turned the tide of the battle at the crucial moment.

He had a clear view from the city wall. The Sauron were indeed elite. Although Lyon's cavalry was brave, they made almost no substantial breakthroughs under the tight defense and soon got bogged down in a stalemate, even at the risk of being surrounded.

If those precise and timely fireballs hadn't struck the Sauron defenses, creating massive chaos and gaps, Lyon's cavalry wouldn't have been able to expand their gains, and their escape would have been in serious trouble.

This assistance is crucial.

As I approached the earthen mound, I saw the mage still standing there, maintaining the contemplative posture characteristic of a researcher. He tilted his head slightly, gazing intently at the cursed cloud in the sky that was still continuously unleashing eerie black lightning. Occasionally, his fingers would be rapidly jotting something down in a leather notebook he carried with him.

The two young men and women standing beside him, clearly apprentices, were curiously observing Carnford Castle and the busy, orderly soldiers around it, their eyes filled with wonder.