The line formed by the old soldiers crumpled like a wheat field struck by a flood under the charge of The Mountain's heavily armored troops.
At the instant the two sides collided, Jon could even hear the dense snapping of spears in the veterans' hands.
The crackling sounds set everyone's teeth on edge.
Though the old soldiers feared no death and possessed unyielding resolve, that could not make up for the disparity in equipment and stamina.
The Mountain's heavily armored force had plenty of knights skilled at breaking formations.
Wielding lances and greatswords, they tore through the veterans' line as easily as sharks ripping apart flesh.
"Kill! Kill them all!"
The Mountain, who had recovered somewhat by now, rose to his feet.
His towering frame immediately drew everyone's attention.
But he was not in particularly good shape. An arrow had sunk deeply into his eye socket.
Blood streamed down, covering most of his face.
At a glance, he looked as terrifying as a demon crawling out of hell.
"Seven Hells!"
"Mountain God!"
"Gods!"
Among Jon's troops, soldiers of different faiths cried out in different ways, but they all meant the same thing: this man was too fierce.
They had never seen such a savage warrior before.
They did not know that The Mountain's long-term use of Milk of the Poppy had gradually dulled his sense of pain.
Having one eye shot out seemed to mean nothing to him.
Yet that ruined eye had thoroughly enraged The Mountain. He began charging recklessly, even bodily knocking aside soldiers who stood in his path.
He wanted to reach Jon and cut off his head.
The Mountain's entire army had now fallen into a frenzy, utterly unaware that a trap lay ahead.
The veterans defended as they retreated, while Jon counted the heavily armored