Who Will Come

Karl dug his heels into his horse's flanks. The warhorse beneath him shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, swiftly passing the Main Force Infantry Regiment and Supply Cart convoy as they anxiously shifted formation. Stirring up a fierce gust, he charged toward the very front of the army.

The bodyguard cavalry followed close behind, their hooves kicking up billowing clouds of dust.

He reined in atop a slightly raised mound and gazed into the distance.

Two or three kilometers ahead, where heaven and earth met, dust swirled through the air. Dozens of dark specks could be faintly seen fiercely entangled and chasing one another. These were the scouts and Light Cavalry sent ahead by both sides, engaged in a fight to the death. Like two packs of savage hounds tearing at each other, they sought to drive back and suppress the enemy's reconnaissance, creating favorable conditions for the main forces' imminent decisive battle.

Karl focused his gaze on the scene, and his heart settled somewhat.

He could see that Carnford's Light Cavalry had not fallen behind in their clashes with the Sauron counterparts. In some local engagements, they even held a slight advantage.

Tempered by the bloody defense of Carnford and the subsequent unbroken campaigns of harassment, the surviving Carnford cavalry had long since been transformed. They were no longer the auxiliary force that had once mainly handled patrols and message delivery.

They were rich in combat experience and worked together seamlessly. Their horsemanship and killing techniques had improved tremendously on the brink of death.

Even the Light Cavalry renowned for their bravery among the Sauron people would find it no easy task to devour them in a small-scale clash between vanguards.

"Rumble..."

Just then, a low, dense roar rolled over from the northwest, as though a