Unstoppable Momentum

Hiss!

Ah!!!

Little Jon was clad head to toe in the rare full plate armor of the North, which Robb had found for him, and held a black spear.

The moment the two sides clashed, he pierced an ordinary infantryman's stomach with a single thrust, using the powerful momentum to impale the screaming enemy soldier on his spear and continue forward.

Not every one of the first rank of Winterfell spearmen could be as brave as Little Jon, but they could generally kill an enemy infantryman with their spears.

Those who narrowly escaped their spears were simply knocked aside by their tightly packed charge formation.

The battlefield, which had only just begun to engage, was immediately filled with the sounds of shouting and screams.

The House Bolton soldier impaled on Little Jon's black spear was not yet dead. His last will to survive caused him to tightly grip the spear that had pierced him.

But as the warhorse shook, his internal organs continued to fall out. His grip gradually loosened, his eyes began to glaze over, and it was clear he wouldn't survive.

Little Jon proved himself a fierce warrior indeed. Even with an enemy still impaled on his spear, it didn't hinder his use of it at all.

Leading the charge, he pierced three enemy infantrymen in succession with his spear before feeling it was becoming awkward to use. He casually discarded the spear and drew the standard longsword from his saddle.

Most spearmen couldn't achieve what Little Jon did, but facing this group of panicked, disorganized ordinary infantry, they were unstoppable.

Maximizing their cavalry charge, they carved swaths of no-man's-land through the infantry ranks.

The battlefield is never without cruelty!

After charging into the enemy infantry ranks, Robb swung his longsword powerfully left and right.

Due to the height of his warhorse, his longsword primarily targeted the heads of the enemy infantry. Those he struck either had their necks deeply gashed or were decapitated.

Behind him, fallen soldiers lay like human fountains.

If Robb were to glance back now, his mind would surely conjure the exaggerated, blood-spurting scenes from that Journey to the West movie directed by the Star Master of Hua Country.

Blood Wind beside him was even more exaggerated, charging wildly with its massive size. Fortunately, some enemy infantry were merely knocked flying by it, while the unlucky were torn apart by its claws, sharper than any longsword.

A brave enemy infantryman, seeing the unstoppable Blood Wind charging at him, did not flee like the other soldiers.

Instead, he chose to grip his sword with both hands and charge headlong at Blood Wind.

Just as they were about to collide, he suddenly rolled to the side, sliding into Blood Wind's blind spot, aiming for its lower abdomen.

Crack!

Blood Wind, whose stats were balanced by Robb and several times that of a normal direwolf, was not lacking in agility despite its massive size.

A nimble sidestep exposed the courageous and resourceful infantryman to its view once more.

Then, it lowered its head, opened its jagged maw, and bit off the soldier's head with a single, brutal tear.

Chewing on its mouthful, Blood Wind continued its charge without concern, reaping these fragile lives.

From this, one could already see a glimpse of the Blood Pact's power. In just about two months, that little wolf cub had been trained into a ferocious, violent battlefield reaper.

Seeing the infantry unit's formation completely broken by the cavalry's surprise attack from behind, Locke knew the tide had turned.

He looked around, searching for an ownerless warhorse to escape, but as the sound of hooves behind him grew louder, the last image in his vision was of a burly, fully armored Winterfell cavalryman.

Little Jon, having led his troops to break through the entire enemy infantry formation, continued his charge. Seeing a few House Bolton soldiers in chainmail by the roadside, he dealt with them casually.

His charge mission complete, his next target was the "iron cans" ahead, who were being tied up by the Winterfell infantry.

The battle on the Dreadfort walls had ended. Below the main gate.

Having already heard the sounds of battle from the allied army's camp, the Winterfell militia infantry, fearing their rear would be cut off, roared and retreated towards the camp, fleeing in a hurry.

Trog could not stop this retreat, which was not a rout but felt like one.

Roose had lost his usual composure and was gritting his teeth, glaring angrily at the battle in the allied army's camp.

Although he had already made a judgment, he still hoped for some miracle.

Putting aside the conscripted infantry, those cavalry units were the core strength of House Bolton!

As the heavy cavalry was surrounded and overwhelmed by the Winterfell cavalry and infantry, his last sliver of hope was extinguished.

"Order all men in the city taller than a wheel to be conscripted. Women will handle logistical support. All men will participate in the defense after minimal training."

Roose turned away from the battle outside the city and gave orders to the attendant beside him.

"Send a raven to Ramsay immediately. Tell him the situation and instruct him to avoid the Winterfell army and preserve his fighting strength."

Watching the attendant acknowledge the order and leave quickly, Roose, though his expression was grave, was not yet at the point of despair.

Although House Bolton had suffered a heavy blow, as long as Dreadfort did not fall, its foundation remained.

In the past few days of siege warfare, Dreadfort's elite infantry had lost over two hundred men, but they had inflicted more than ten times that number of casualties on the Winterfell siege infantry.

In terms of combat strength, Dreadfort still had over a thousand elite infantry, two hundred cavalry, and the men to be conscripted from within the city.

As for food, Dreadfort had always been a war fortress, with dedicated underground food cellars. Coupled with the recent plunder from numerous merchant caravans, Roose was confident he could hold out within Dreadfort for several years. Could the Winterfell soldiers maintain a siege for years?

The answer was clearly no!

However, he could only defend Dreadfort now. Wealthy areas within House Bolton's territory, like Ironstone Town, would undoubtedly be plundered clean.

We underestimated this wolf cub; he will surely become a menace once he grows up!

With a plan forming in his mind, Roose immediately walked towards the study in his castle. He intended to write a secret letter himself and send it to that lord in the Westerlands.

The battle outside Dreadfort was nearing its end. When the Winterfell Cavalry launched their surprise attack, the outcome of the battlefield was essentially decided.

What followed was basically a one-sided slaughter. After one charge from the Cavalry, many of House Bolton's three thousand Militia Infantry dropped their weapons, raised their hands, and knelt on the ground begging for mercy.

However, House Bolton's Heavy Cavalry, true to their reputation as loyal killers for Bolton, fought to the death against the Winterfell army.

Robb fiercely thrust the longsword in his hand into the gap of a Heavy Cavalryman's helmet. As he pulled it out with force, a stream of bright red blood followed.

A small wisp of red mist rose from the Heavy Cavalryman who had fallen to the ground and merged into his body.

At this moment, Robb's eyes were blood red, and his entire body was enveloped in a layer of red mist visible only to him.

With his battle spirit continuously surging, he rode his horse and relentlessly hacked at the enemy. The longsword he originally held had long been damaged; this was already the nth weapon he had seized from his enemies.