Extreme Cold Era: Shelter Don't Keep Waste-Chapter 927 - 154

This war, which will decide the future of the Desert Kingdom, did not contain any part that Perfikot found brilliant.

The mode of warfare between the two sides was still in the transition from melee with cold weapons to firearms combat, with little 'modern' elements.

When the cavalry of the Desert Kingdom raised clouds of yellow sand as they charged towards the Empire's formation, the scene was more of a tragic march to death than a charge.

Most of these cavalry were the last elite of their tribes, their warhorses' ribs protruding from long-term hunger, yet still fed with the last of their fodder by their masters.

More than a dozen frail warhorses suddenly collapsed during the charge, throwing their riders heavily onto the sand.

Valken stood on a small hill used as headquarters, calmly observing this broken force through binoculars.

He noticed that most of the sabers the cavalry used were rusted, clearly lacking proper maintenance, and some even carried ancestral flintlock guns on their backs.

The cavalry at the front brandished ragged banners embroidered with tribal totems, fluttering fiercely in the hot wind—details confirming the accuracy of the intelligence: the once troublesome desert cavalry for the Empire had indeed declined into despair.

"Hold the formation, wait until they get within two hundred yards before firing," Valken put down the binoculars and said to the messenger.

He intentionally halted the artillery bombardment, keeping only a few side cannons firing for intimidation.

This decision left the staff officers looking at each other, but no one dared to question the commander's orders at this point.

When the cavalry reached three hundred yards, there was a slight commotion within the Empire's formation.

Recruits nervously checked their rifles' firing mechanisms, while veterans silently calculated the distance.

The tribal chieftain at the forefront mistakenly interpreted this restraint as cowardice, raised his saber, and shouted a victory cry, this misjudgment drove the following cavalry to urge their warhorses forward even more frantically.

"Fire!"

With the waving of the signal flag, three infantry formations spewed out deadly fire tongues simultaneously.

The first volley alone toppled nearly a hundred cavalrymen, the charge line instantly twisted and deformed as if hitting an invisible wall.

The surviving cavalry attempted to turn towards the flanks, only to fall right into the preset crossfire net.

A handful of valiant riders managed to get within fifty yards but were immediately shot down by sharpshooters in the second echelon with precise aimed shots.

"Scatter! Scatter all!" The old chieftain smacked the blood-stained neck of his mount with his saber, only to find that the right-wing cavalry had already fled—the young men from the Oasis Tribe desperately reined in their startled horses, exposing their backs to the third volley.

Valken stood on the hill, rotating his binoculars, watching the desert cavalry's charge line shatter like waves against a reef.

He specifically instructed the artillery to use shells with half the usual powder, more to create terrifying sonic booms than actual deaths.

This was an order from Perfikot, to control the casualties, force out as many of the desert chieftains' last cards as possible, and also to prevent them from simply running away due to overwhelming disparity.

"Have the fourth company intentionally create a gap," he told the messenger, catching sight from the corner of his eye the dust billowing three kilometers away—a reserve force of the chieftains was indeed hidden among the folds of the dry river valley.

When the remnant two hundred cavalry finally charged through the Empire's frontline and intruded into the defensive line, they were met by two infantry regiments already formed into an open formation to counter cavalry charges.

However, the chieftains behind them didn't notice this, they only saw the cavalry breaching into the Empire's ranks.

When the vanguard cavalry breached the Empire's ranks, the entire battlefield seemed to ignite.

Seeing the vanguard tear open a gap, the chieftains, in wild delight, immediately ordered the full force forward—the last six hundred camel cavalry let out shrill whistles, their heavy hooves making the sand tremble, three thousand tribal infantry waving sabers and old muskets surged towards the Empire's line like a tidal wave.

The dust kicked up by the charge obscured half the sky, and behind that murky storm, a few captured six-pound cannons of the Empire were vaguely seen being pushed forward, their dark muzzles aimed at the Empire's flank.

"Finally willing to show their cards," Valken sneered coldly, leisurely pulled out a pocket watch, confirmed the time, then nodded slightly to the messenger behind him.

A scarlet signal flare shot up into the sky, bursting into a blinding flame in the yellowish sandstorm.

The rapid-fire artillery battery long-ambushed on the flank immediately began adjusting elevation, the gunners skillfully loaded and aimed, waiting for the command to turn this battlefield into a hell.

Perfikot looked down on all this from the floating battleship, her expression indifferent to the point of boredom.

In her eyes, this battle had no suspense.

Although the Empire's forces were not massive, Valken's command included as many as twelve infantry regiments, two artillery regiments, plus four thousand auxiliary troops provided by Desert Tribes that pledged allegiance to the Empire.

If they were to fight unrestrainedly, they could crush this ragtag band put together by the chieftains within hours.

However, if it were merely to exterminate these remnants and defeated soldiers, Perfikot wouldn't need to go to such great lengths.

Her slender fingers gently tapped on the observation window of the floating battleship, her cold eyes reflecting the battlefield below gradually boiling over.

The reason she personally commanded from the floating battleship, even deploying twenty Steam Knights as a backup, was because she had obtained key intelligence from the surrendered tribal chieftains—those ancient tribes occupying the oasis had worshipped a certain "Divine" for generations, holding a trump card capable of reversing the battle.