Night Raid (Seeking Collection)

A moment earlier.

Roan Davis gazed at the camp at Widow's Bay, his face twisted in a grimace. "Damn it, how could it be such a coincidence?"

As a member of the Davis Family, he understood the family's strategy perfectly.

The main force would pin down the Sothoth Family's core strength, while a smaller unit would travel down the river to launch a surprise attack, capturing Sothoth Castle in a single day. Then, with forces working from both inside and out, they would completely annihilate the Sothoth Family!

Who could have guessed that a squad would be blocking the only path forward?

The terrain at Widow's Bay was far too disadvantageous; once a water blockade was set up and a camp established, it would be nearly impossible for a few hundred men to break through in a short time.

Fortunately, according to scout reports, the force stationed at Widow's Bay was merely a small squad, low in numbers and weak in combat power.

"With these dozens of men guarding the camp, a frontal assault would be difficult. A sneak attack is necessary."

Roan looked at his own troops, feeling a surge of confidence—after all, he had a true knight accompanying him!

"Uncle Saliba, I'm counting on you."

He spoke softly to the muscular knight beside him, who had donned full plate armor before the battle.

"Rest assured!"

Saliba flashed a bloodthirsty grin. "It's easy to get lost during a night operation, but as long as I charge in alone, the outcome will be decided!"

Collective emotions are the hardest to pacify, and the night is always accompanied by fear. Once an attack is launched, the enemy might succumb to a panic-induced frenzy and collapse.

Aaron chose not to shout about the enemy raid immediately for this very reason.

He knew that his militiamen were essentially farmers at heart; if they were startled, they would easily fall into chaos, and everything would be lost.

However, at this moment, as the squad leaders woke them one by one, the many militiamen picked up their weapons. Though their expressions were tense, they at least avoided total disorder.

"There is an enemy night raid. Let them get close before we strike!"

Aaron grabbed a bow and arrow, whispering his orders.

Ancient people ate little meat and generally suffered from night blindness, making night raids a difficult feat.

As for why night raid case studies were famous? That was purely because they were rare!

However, as a noble who ate meat, he did not suffer from this ailment. By the moonlight, he quickly determined the scale of the enemy force.

"Less than a hundred men. We have a stronghold, the advantage of the terrain, and it is night. Most of the enemies are blind as bats, and some even need to hold onto the person in front of them just to walk..."

He slowly drew his bow, marking the two leaders.

One was wearing armor, so he skipped him and aimed at the young man beside him.

"Almost there, almost there..."

Roan's heart was pounding with excitement. If he could take this camp, he would be the greatest contributor to his family's conquest of the Green Forest!

When that time came, being enfeoffed as a knight was a distinct possibility!

Roan charged into the camp without obstruction, using his longsword to slash open a tent, only to find that there was not a single person inside.

His expression changed instantly, and his hair stood on end!

At that very moment, torches flared to life in every direction.

A line of peasant soldiers, already armed, occupied the high ground and stared at him with the cold gaze one might reserve for the dead.

"Oh no!"

Roan let out a cry, only to see the young man opposite him standing on high, releasing his bowstring.

Whoosh!

An arrow shadow flashed, piercing straight through his thigh and sending Roan crashing to the ground with a scream.

"Close the camp gate and attack!"

Aaron watched the scene, his orders cold and decisive.

They held the high ground and the advantage of the terrain, and with the barricades, even fifty men were enough to hold off hundreds!

The enemy's failed sneak attack had turned into a trap of their own making. By closing the gate and trapping them, they could divide the enemy forces and defeat them piece by piece. They had the timing, the terrain, and the morale all on their side!

"Kill!"

Several hunters among the peasant soldiers also drew their bows. Their accuracy wasn't as sharp as Aaron's, but they still struck the enemy, causing even more chaos.

"Damn it, an ambush?"

Saliba's eyes widened as he looked at his bewildered subordinates.

They were panicked and frantic, scrambling backward toward the narrow camp gate. They didn't hesitate to trample their own comrades or even turn their blades on their own men, driven by the singular thought of escape!

At this point, even though they were better trained than the militiamen, it was of no use.

"We cannot retreat! Retreating now is exactly what the ambushers want!"

Saliba was a knight for a reason; he quickly assessed the situation. He swung his greatsword, cutting down a militiaman who dared to charge forward, and roared, "Charge with me!"

Clatter!

Various attacks landed upon his armor, leaving behind only shallow marks, yet the burly man swung his greatsword like a whirlwind, appearing on the verge of breaking through the encirclement and charging straight toward Aaron!

Green stood in the knight's path, only to be sent stumbling to the ground by a single slash from his opponent.

Seeing this, Aaron had no choice but to discard his bow and take up his Cross Sword: This was a miscalculation...

The quality of these subordinates was truly abysmal; not only did they show signs of breaking at the first charge of an enemy warrior during a favorable battle, but they had even failed to execute the simple task of lowering the camp gate.

Still, it is for the best. As long as there is a glimmer of hope for escape, the enemy will not fight to the death, turning a "shutting the door to catch the dog" scenario into a desperate struggle of a cornered beast...

Aaron muttered a complaint, lunged forward with his Cross Sword, and traced an arc with the sharp blade.

Saliba immediately shifted to the left, his greatsword descending with a violent force.

Aaron raised his Cross Sword, and the two blades met in mid-air, producing a harsh sound of grinding metal.

It was fortunate that he was wielding a Cross Sword; had he been using the thin rapier from before, it would have snapped long ago.

Aaron's eyes remained calm, as if he were merely practicing his swordsmanship, and he began to engage Saliba in close-quarters combat.

His footwork was incredibly agile, his dodges swift, and he made every effort to avoid a direct clash of strength—all habits ingrained from his usual practice with the rapier.

After several swings of his greatsword failed to land, Saliba's breathing had already grown heavy.

"Opportunity!"

Aaron side-stepped, circling behind the knight.

While wearing armor provided high defense, it also hindered movement and drained stamina.

By now, Saliba's speed was far inferior to what it had been before, and Aaron, seizing the chance, thrust his sword into the knee joint, the blade piercing through the gap in the plate armor and drawing a spray of blood.

Saliba let out a miserable cry and dropped to one knee.

"A knight..."

Aaron panted softly, but he did not lower his guard; instead, he knocked the enemy's longsword away and thrust his blade directly through the visor of the helmet.

A large amount of blood gushed from the gaps in the helmet, and the man's massive body collapsed to the ground.

"Knight Saliba is dead!"

"Wild Bear Saliba is dead!"

Upon witnessing this, the soldiers of the Davis Family felt their faith crumble, and they began to surrender or flee in a panic.

Boom!

At that moment, Eight-Fingers finally arrived with his men to seal the camp gate, firmly seizing the initiative...