Encounter

Leaving Beregost, the Flaming Fist squad continued south along the Coast Road under the banner of the Seven Suns Merchant Alliance.

However, the road to Nashkel was destined to be anything but peaceful. It was as if their luck from Tyche had been exhausted crossing the Crossroads; this time, it was her sister, Beshaba, who was gracing the unfortunate Flaming Fist squad.

The sudden attack came from a group of cunning hobgoblins. These beasts had ambushed them in the jungle to the right of the road. The dense undergrowth had effectively hidden their tracks, and since it wasn't a forest of tall trees, the Flaming Fist scouts had let their guard down a little.

The quiet of the formation was shattered by whistling arrows. The arrowheads, colder than the north wind, sliced through the air, crossing the distance from the jungle to the Coast Road in an instant and burying themselves in the bodies of unlucky Flaming Fist soldiers.

"Enemy attack, right flank!" Despite the surprise assault, the Flaming Fist soldiers, seasoned veterans, did not panic. They quickly halted their advance and formed a defensive line reliant on their wagons in the direction of the enemy's surprise attack.

However, this attack was not against a disorganized mob. Not to mention the continuous yet distinctly spaced volleys of arrows, the hobgoblin warriors who initiated the charge were actually maintaining a rough formation. While not perfectly uniform, it was impressive.

"Careful, these aren't ordinary goblin raiders; it's a hobgoblin warband!" Skar, recognizing the enemy's identity, quickly warned his teammates.

On the other side, within the hobgoblin warband, the leader, the hobgoblin Barok, had just orchestrated a classic ambush. The first wave of arrows had achieved good results, costing the humans at least five combatants. Subsequent arrows, though unsuccessful, had suppressed the enemy's counterattack.

These humans are so quick to react. Are they really just a normal merchant caravan? Barok harbored doubts.

But seeing his subordinates' morale boosted and their eagerness to fight, he couldn't help but set aside his concerns. Yes, we are the hobgoblin warband.

Unlike his goblin relatives who were like beggars and vagrants, the hobgoblin warband was a true military organization. Their discipline, combat skills, and courage were far superior to those pathetic relatives.

Without further hesitation, Barok drew the broadsword at his waist. "Charge with me!"

The human warriors were still enduring the arrow rain, unable to effectively suppress their charge. Victory and glory awaited them today!

So, what was our Archmage Zhang doing at this moment?

As soon as the squad was attacked, Zhang Yuan, accustomed to the routine, hid behind the left side of the wagon and cast Mage Armor on himself.

Then, when the furious dwarf Bard and the large Minsc prepared to counterattack, this guy called out to them.

"I need to prepare to cast. You two guard me."

There weren't many words exchanged. They had developed a tacit understanding within their small group during the journey.

Under their vigilant watch, the auto-battler piece made its first appearance on the continent of Faerûn in Zhang Yuan's hands.

"Facio, Voco, Ferre! (I make, I call, weapons!)"

As the incantation ended, a plump, round Stone Golem appeared along with a flower bud opening like glazed glass. After the flower bud bloomed, revealing Tiny within, it vanished like a bubble.

Looking at the little stone he had summoned with his own hands, Zhang Yuan felt an ineffable sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. However, being on the battlefield, he had to suppress this emotion for the time being.

Bard and Minsc, who had joined their team, weren't particularly surprised. Mages summoning stone elementals is standard procedure, right? The two ignorant individuals didn't understand the significance of it.

As the enemy launched their charge, gradually approaching their formation, the Flaming Fist mercenaries could only passively defend due to concerns about the enemy's ranged firepower.

Seeing this, someone suddenly had a wicked idea. He watched the charging hobgoblins' footsteps and began to guide the spell he was about to cast.

"Cupio, Virtus, Licet! (I desire, all of it, shall be granted!)"

The arcane light dissipated in his hands, as if nothing had happened. Just as the two guards protecting him exchanged bewildered glances, an invisible force, like an ultrasonic wave, suddenly spread through the charging hobgoblin ranks.

I, Barok, lead from the front!

The leadership of the hobgoblin warband was never obtained through flashy means; it was always through one word: fighting.

Barok was the strongest and most capable fighter in the entire warband.

While they understood some basic tactics, advanced strategies such as holding the center, strategizing from within, or the notion that a commander should lead the overall situation without taking risks were too complex for them.

The boss should lead the charge; otherwise, how could he command respect? Barok didn't know the meaning of the word "coward"!

Of course, being illiterate, he didn't know how to write other words either.

It didn't matter. The human merchant caravan, forced into a passive defense, was like a thin-shelled walnut, easily cracked open to enjoy its delicious contents.

What was there to plunder? Of course, it was food and supplies. What if there was no food? Stupid! Aren't those humans food?

Barok, still lost in his fantasies, easily dodged a few sparse arrows that flew his way. Just as he was about to accelerate towards the enemy formation, his head suddenly spun, and he felt as if he hadn't slept all night and had just reached his bedside. An overwhelming drowsiness almost paralyzed his brain.

However, he, Barok, was the strongest warrior; how could he fall asleep on the battlefield? I must charge, charge! "Brats, charge with me!"

The expected passionate shout did not materialize. Barok, surprised, glanced with the corner of his eye. Apart from a few staggering subordinates who were still struggling to follow him, the remaining twenty or so subordinates had all collapsed on the ground, snoring loudly.

Barok was truly shocked. I'm leading the charge, and you little brats are sleeping soundly?

Enraged, Barok ignored everything else and rushed to the sleeping hobgoblins, kicking them furiously in an attempt to wake up these lazybones.

The Flaming Fist soldiers, who were standing ready to engage the hobgoblins in close combat, were overjoyed.

They had expected a tough battle. The hobgoblin warband didn't look like pushovers at all. With their morale high and launching a charge, even if their defensive line didn't collapse, their losses would be tremendously painful.

Who would have thought that the seemingly well-trained enemy would falter halfway through their charge? The hobgoblins seemed to have been overcome by sleepiness, sleeping on the ground with the sky as their cover and the earth as their bedding.

Seeing their leader stuck in the middle, unable to advance or retreat, and at a loss, Skar, knowing that the opportunity would pass in an instant, no longer hesitated and decisively ordered:

"Flaming Fist soldiers, watch for arrows, charge!"

Drawing and shooting arrows was not as simple as in novels or games. After several volleys, the stamina of the hobgoblin archers was greatly depleted. The soreness in their wrists no longer allowed them to maintain high-intensity fire suppression.

At this very moment, their own charging team was slacking off on the battlefield. Seeing the enemy human soldiers about to close in, they still refused to get up.

??? The hobgoblin archers had ten thousand MMPs they wanted to say, but there was no time. If they didn't run now, it would truly be too late. The melee squad, sleeping like dead pigs, had their heads severed in their dreams, forever asleep. The humans were advancing towards them.