Battle raged fiercely along the entire front, but in the center—especially the sector once held by the Sparrow Corps and now under Luo Yao's Fire Shooter Guards—the fighting had reached an extreme of brutality.
Harald's fury and ultimatum made Luo Yao understand that if he did not produce "results" soon, the fate awaiting him, this model surrendered general, would be worse than that of the lowliest slave. He donned armor and took the field himself, gripping a fine sword he had brought from Broomflower. With the fiercest of his personal guards and supervisory team, he stood less than fifty paces behind the charging troops.
"Charge! Every last one of you, charge! Anyone who dares turn back will be executed on the spot!" Luo Yao snarled, his voice warped by extreme terror and madness.
The supervisory team under his command were like rabid dogs. Any soldier who moved too slowly or showed even the slightest fear—whether Sauron or surrendered soldier—was cut down on the spot. They also handed out the last stock of old Matchlock Rifles. Whether the men knew how to use them or not, they were forced to light the fuses and fire wildly into the smoke toward the Carnford earthworks, solely to create an even greater spectacle and more chaos.
The artillery fire here was also the densest. The Sauron concentrated more than half their remaining heavy guns in this sector, blasting furiously at every flickering muzzle flash in the smoke without regard for accuracy. Relying on their fortifications, Carnford's defenders answered with more precise fire. The troops and firepower committed by both sides in this narrow stretch had reached their peak.
Within the thick smoke, visibility was nearly nonexistent. Like headless flies, the slaves surged instinctively toward wherever the gunfire seemed thinnest or a gap appeared, driven