Engagement

The eyes of the Burned Men warriors were bloodshot, their faces flushed a deep red with fury; this group of Flatlanders had made them feel a rage unlike anything they had ever known.

A roar erupted from the throats of the Burned Men warriors!

They no longer cared about the trenches and barricades obstructing their path!

Their only thought was to charge forward at top speed, to hack to pieces the Flatlander cowards hiding behind the trenches and wood, and to avenge their fallen tribal Champions!

Walker, Son of Nego, drew his battle-axe and bellowed:

"Champions of the Burned Men! Slaughter them all!"

The warriors of the Burned Men, brandishing a chaotic array of weapons—longswords, axes, spears, and wooden clubs—charged toward Suleiman's fortifications.

They were fast, their footsteps carrying the speed and power honed by a lifetime of living in the high mountains, as if they intended to smash through every obstacle before them with their own bodies.

However, this ferocious charge felt as if it had slammed into an invisible wall.

The warriors in the lead reached the edge of the trench and, in order to engage the Flatlanders, were forced to leap down or search for a crossing point.

Those following close behind crowded forward, and the formation instantly became hopelessly congested.

They either tried to jump over the trench or attempted to climb out of it, but the trench was lined with barricades.

This forced them to find ways to destroy the wooden barriers.

This gave the archers their chance; Suleiman's force had scraped together a dozen archers, men who had once been hunters and were now serving as the unit's temporary bowmen.

"Loose!" Suleiman ordered calmly.

The archers stood in the front rank.

Under Suleiman's direction, they loosed arrows one after another; the hunters were skilled at shooting small game, so Suleiman had instructed them to target the unprotected eyes of the Wildlings.

The Burned Men warriors felt utterly humiliated, being pelted by the Flatlanders at such close range.

Especially these damned, shameless Flatlanders, who kept shooting at the eyes of the Burned Men Champions!

It made them afraid to even lift their heads to look up, further hindering their ability to climb or move the barricades!

The strength and savagery they usually took such pride in seemed so clumsy and inefficient when faced with prepared fortifications.

Behind the barricades, although Suleiman's soldiers were still nervous, the scene before them gave them immense confidence.

After all, this was their first time on a battlefield, and their hearts had been filled with panic!

But now, beneath their feet was solid earth, before them were simple yet effective wood and trenches, and on either side were their comrades in formation, looking down upon their enemies!

They stood there like hunters waiting for prey! There was no need to charge forward and engage these terrifying savages in close-quarters combat!

Suleiman watched all of this; this was exactly why he had planned it this way.

By utilizing the terrain and simple fortifications, he turned the enemy's advantages into disadvantages, wearing down their strength and morale against the trenches, the barricades, and the height advantage of his men.

His own unit was made up of green recruits, after all—even if they now possessed ambition, greed, desire, and a hunger for victory.

They were still recruits! Only by being tempered in blood and fire could they build true confidence!

If he had thrown these men, who had only just picked up their weapons, into a bloody, visceral melee with the ferocious Wildlings of the Burned Men, it would have been absolutely detrimental to building that confidence.

Now, they did not need to face the brutal savages head-on; they only needed to execute simple commands from a relatively safe position.

The archers steadily loosed arrows at the congested enemy at close range, while the spearmen guarded the barricades, using their spear tips to repeatedly jab at the arms of the Wildlings trying to climb over.

The hands of the spearmen, which had been trembling at first, began to steady with every jab that wounded a savage.

Listening to the howls of the Wildlings, that fear began to recede like a tide.

In its place came a strange sense of calm, and their movements gradually became faster and more powerful.

The archers' movements also grew more fluid, and they began to draw, aim, and shoot in a rhythmic, mechanical fashion.

Every "thrum" of a bowstring was a judgment passed upon the eyes of the Burned Men.

Watching the eyes of the Burned Men being struck one after another, their confidence grew rapidly.

There was even a strange sense of pleasure in it?

The battle was destined to be unfair from the very beginning.

One side used the terrain and simple fortifications to build a safety line with ranged and long weapons, establishing their confidence within that perimeter.

The other side was a trapped beast, charging in anger only to be caught before obstacles, unable to bring their own advantages to bear, and slowly disintegrating in despair.

Seeing this, Walker, Son of Nego, felt his heart bleeding, but he quickly realized that things could not continue like this.

He had thought that with the ferocity of the Burned Men warriors!

They would be able to charge the Flatlanders' wooden frames in one go and drag them into the close-quarters combat that the Burned Men excelled at!

He had not expected these iron-less Flatlanders to be so resilient!

"Retreat! Fall back! Retreat now!" Walker, Son of Nego, roared at the top of his lungs.

His voice sounded somewhat pale and powerless amidst the chaos.

He tried to command those desperate, pushing warriors to stop! At the same time, he tried to force those still charging the Flatlanders to fall back!

However, for the Burned Men of the Mountain Clans, retreating was often more difficult than charging.

Those warriors, their eyes bloodshot and their minds clouded by rage, did not immediately hear the order, or perhaps they simply refused to accept it.

They were still vainly attempting to climb out of the ravines to destroy the palisades, trying to carve a path for their brothers to charge up!

Meanwhile, those who attempted to fall back were crushed by the comrades surging up from behind, throwing the ranks into complete chaos.

Suleiman's soldiers were momentarily stunned when they saw the enemy beginning to pull back.

Immediately after, an irrepressible cheer of excitement spread through the ranks.

Suleiman scanned the battlefield with a calm gaze.

He was not blinded by the victory before him.

Although the scene was chaotic, the Burned Men were still rescuing their wounded comrades as they retreated, which meant this was by no means a rout; if he were to launch a rash counterattack, a reversal was highly likely.

Seeing that some soldiers were already planning to abandon the fortifications to charge out and fight, he hurriedly shouted orders for Lushen and Roslyn to relay his commands.

"Tell the archers! Keep firing! Aim for those enemies trying to break away! Infantry, hold the line! Without my order, no one is to leave the fortifications!"

Although Lushen and Roslyn did not understand why he would not order a pursuit of the retreating enemy, they faithfully executed the commands of Lord Suleiman.

They immediately spurred their horses and galloped off to shout the instructions.

The spearmen, though eager to charge out and pursue, restrained their impulses under Suleiman's command.

They gripped their spears tightly, stood their ground, and held fast at the palisades.

Upon receiving the order, the archers acted swiftly, raining arrows onto the backs of the retreating Burned Men.

The retreating warriors of the Burned Men had lost the defenses they possessed while facing the enemy head-on, leaving their backs as targets for the arrows, which struck true with every shot.

When he saw the Burned Men stop abruptly once they were out of range and glare viciously back toward his position, Suleiman knew his decision had been correct; these men had not truly been routed.

They were attempting to use a feigned retreat to lure him out of the fortifications to launch an attack, only to counter-strike.

He could not help but marvel; these savages were indeed excellent warriors, and it was no wonder Tyrion liked them so much.

Suleiman rode forward.

He ordered the soldiers to take a temporary rest where they stood.

The archers loosened their taut bowstrings, and the spearmen lowered their spears, collapsing onto the ground and gasping for air.

Their clothes were soaked through with sweat, and their arms ached from the tension and exertion, but their faces were filled with excitement and a profound sense of achievement!

Toman sat on the ground, looking at the blood still staining the tip of his spear.

He burst into laughter!

He had wounded five or six savages just moments ago.

Every time he struck one of those savages, it filled him with pleasure and pride!

The resting soldiers were stirred by this laughter, and one by one, they began to laugh along.