Battle Contact

Behind a gentle slope about half a mile from Karl's camp, the night was as thick as ink, swallowing every detail.

Yet if anyone could see through the darkness, they would have been horrified to discover that hundreds of short figures were densely crawling across this seemingly peaceful hillside.

They were goblins, raiders from the "Blacktooth" Cave.

Most of these short humanoids wore clothing patched together from roughly tanned animal hides, or ill-fitting rags crudely cut from garments stripped off human corpses.

The few who looked stronger and held higher status wore crude armor made of scraps of metal scavenged from who-knew-where and embedded into leather.

Their weapons came in all shapes and sizes: rust-covered short swords, heavily nicked cleavers, Wooden Spears with sharp stones tied to them, and even sharpened bone daggers. Under the faint starlight, they reflected a cold, ghostly gleam.

They were like a swarm of locusts lying in wait, terrifyingly quiet. Only the occasional muffled, heavy breath and the faint clinking of weapons revealed the surging murderous intent hidden beneath the deathly silence.

A goblin scout in a tattered leather coat slipped back up from below the hill like a ghost and nimbly crawled over to a goblin chief wearing leather armor studded with metal plates and an obviously oversized human cavalry helmet.

Lowering its voice, it spoke in somewhat stiff but clear human language:

"Chief, I got a good look. Those two-legged sheep have built a tough camp! They dug deep trenches, piled up earthen walls, and even put up a whole row of wooden palisades. There are plenty of guards keeping watch inside, too. They look pretty alert. If we charge straight in, we'll definitely lose a lot of teeth."

The goblin chief known as "Chief," codenamed Skullcracker, narrowed its eyes, which gleamed with cunning malice beneath the shadow of its helmet. Its rough fingers unconsciously tapped a bloodstained hand axe at its waist.

After pondering for a moment, it rasped in a deep, hoarse voice, "Hiss... Tough bones? Then let's knock on them first and hear how they sound. Venomtooth, take a hundred nimble little whelps over there and sneak up for a bite! Don't get bogged down. If they put up fierce resistance, run straight back! The rest of us will stay here and cover you."

It could see very clearly that this human force was carrying a large number of slaves and supplies. It was a fat piece of meat, but it also had plenty of armed guards.

Its tactics were clear. It did not need to crush them in a single battle. It only needed to harass them constantly like a pack of wolves, wear them down, and keep them from resting in peace.

As long as they kept following them, they would eventually find a moment when the humans relaxed or exposed a weakness!

A bloodthirsty excitement flashed through the eyes of the scout leader called "Venomtooth." It growled, "As you command, Chief!"

It immediately turned around and quickly picked out a hundred of the fiercest and most agile-looking goblins from the group of eager volunteers. It hissed a few rapid words in their own language to rally them, roughly meaning: Grab their stuff! Kill the weak ones! Run if things go bad!

Before long, these fifty goblins scattered like unleashed wild dogs, using the terrain for cover as they swiftly sneaked toward the human camp below, its campfire glowing in the darkness.

Almost the instant the goblins launched their attack, an extremely faint yet distinctly unnatural sound came from the darkness at the edge of the camp.

Karl caught the discordant noise almost immediately and suddenly opened his eyes.

At the same time, many soldiers who were already struggling to sleep in their armor, their nerves taut, also vaguely heard the disturbance.

"Bang!"

A sharp gunshot rang out from the palisade!

Immediately afterward, an angry shout tore through the silence: "Enemy attack! Southwest direction!"

Almost the instant the sentry issued the warning, Karl sprang up like a leopard, his roar echoing across the camp: "Enemy attack! Everyone take your positions! Prepare for battle!"

The soldiers, who had been tormented by orders to remain on alert for half the night, instead felt a kind of relief that seemed to say, Finally, they're here.

They leaped up on reflex and grabbed their weapons. Under the urgent commands of officers such as Brendan, Richter, and Roland, they quickly rushed to their assigned defensive positions—behind the earthworks, in the gaps between the wooden palisades, and behind them!

The moment they steadied themselves, they saw countless short, twisted, ferocious figures surge out of the darkness like ghosts, instantly reaching the edge of the trench!

Then a dense wave of short spears, stones, and bone arrows poured out of the darkness like a swarm of locusts!

"Raise your shields!" the front-line Swordsmen and Shieldbearers roared as they struggled to lift their shields.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Dull impacts rained down on the shield faces like raindrops. The force was not great, but it was incredibly irritating. Every so often, an arrow slipped through a gap, bringing a muffled groan or curse.

"Musketeers! Trench ahead! Volley fire!" Brendan seized the moment and barked the order.

The Musketeers, who had already finished loading and had been waiting for this moment, immediately rested their guns on the palisade and aimed at the goblins throwing weapons before the trench, trying to fill in the obstacle.

"Fire!"

Bang—!

A thunderous, coordinated roar exploded. A row of blazing lead bullets swept across the edge of the trench like the scythes of death.

Goblins were small and packed tightly together. A single bullet could often easily pierce two or three bodies before losing its momentum.

In an instant, severed limbs flew through the air, and shrill screams rose one after another. The thick smell of gunpowder and blood spread through the air!

The sudden, ferocious barrage and deafening noise clearly exceeded the goblins' expectations.

They fell into brief confusion and hesitation, as if they had never seen a weapon with such terrifying power and lethality.

But their vicious nature soon overwhelmed their fear!

Urged on by the shrieks of several leaders, the remaining goblins let out crazed screeches and charged forward with even greater desperation.

Several exceptionally agile goblins leaped over the trench, which was not especially wide. Yet what awaited them were densely packed, razor-sharp spears thrust suddenly through the gaps in the palisade!

Squelch! Squelch!

The goblins that leaped over seemed to hurl themselves onto the spearheads. They were instantly pierced by more than a dozen spears at once, their bodies hung in midair as they struggled and spasmed futilely, crying out in despair.

Some other goblins tried to climb directly over the palisade, but their short bodies could find no purchase on the smooth or sharpened logs. They had barely climbed halfway when the Swordsmen and Shieldbearers behind them shoved them outward with their shields. Screaming, they fell back into the bottom of the trench and were pierced by the sharpened stakes laid there in advance!

The first probing attack crashed headlong into the human camp's tight defenses and savage firepower, instantly leaving the goblins battered and bleeding!