These veteran soldiers are each wiping the blood from their bayonets and reloading ammunition.

If you pay attention to their positions and the way they inadvertently scan their surroundings, you'll realize they are on alert and ready to engage in combat at any moment.

These veterans have mostly battled these deceitful heretics before; in the wilderness, there is no safe place, and they may spring from anywhere at any time, so vigilance is essential.

The veterans' decisiveness and ruthlessness starkly contrast with the state of the new recruits, and more importantly, it's about experience—some lessons come at the price of blood.

But veterans also grow from new recruits; in this operation, the new recruits were split up and supplemented into squads, with basically two or three newbies in a ten-man team.

This kind of team, where the old lead the young, ensures combat effectiveness while allowing new recruits to grow quickly.

At this moment, a whistle suddenly rang out across the wilderness, and the squad immediately became alert.

In this era, there are no walkie-talkies, and Extraordinary Equipment cannot be widely equipped.

In open and unobstructed environments like plains or seas, communication could still be done via fast horse or semaphore, but dense wilderness forests make these impossible.

That's why the whistle was employed by Lance after discovering the Barbarian Tribes' way of communicating, as whistles are simple to make, low cost, and meet the requirements for equipping.

Each squad is typically equipped with one or two whistles, using combinations of whistle sounds to create signals for attack, retreat, support, assembly, danger, etc.

Their training courses include learning to interpret whistle signals, like a code that only Hamlet's soldiers can understand.

"They need support!"

"Right near us."

The penetrating whistle could convey information through the dense forest, which is why the Barbarian Tribes like to use it.

"Now is not the time to rest."

Under the captain's urging, the squad quickly moved forward again, and among them, the heavy-breathing new recruit gradually revealed a sense of ferocity.

Transitioning from stabbing a Scarecrow to fighting flesh and blood—taking this step means becoming a true soldier...

Scattered gunshots continually echoed in the wilderness, marking heretic squads being found and then destroyed.

They had faced such massive force sweeps before; if they couldn't fight back, they would flee.

Only when they tried to reapply their old tactics did they realize those holes were all blasted shut—those below couldn't come up, and those above couldn't go down.

Looking up, the smoke rising in the sky told the heretics their escape routes were sealed.

Stirred and gathered heretics, naturally unwilling to be separated for slaughter like pigs, gathered twenty or so strong and blew the horn of resistance, among whom were several Heretic Priests.

They waved their short wands, calling for the gaze of the gods.

The heretic warriors felt bathed in divine scrutiny, becoming even more frenzied.

"Damn it! Get people over here quickly!"

A squad discovered these gathered heretics and immediately blew the whistle in a specific rhythm, the resounding signal spreading across the wilderness instantaneously.

At the same time, those heretics discovered this squad.

"Join the Ascension!"

"Flesh Sacrifice to the Gods, only I Ascend!"

"Ah ah ah!!!" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

A bunch of insane heretics charged forward like wild dogs, while behind them, the Heretic Priest was brewing strange sorcery.

The squad members weren't foolish—they were outmatched and immediately shouted loudly.

"Retreat, retreat, retreat!"

Under the squad captain's command, the others didn't hesitate at all and followed suit in fleeing.

The Lord had said, with such obvious disparities in strength, it's not called fleeing—it's called a strategic retreat; preserving strength is essential for organizing an effective counterattack.

The running soldiers understood why training always started with a five-kilometer warm-up run; now, when they run, the heretics can't catch up at all.

"Slow down, slow down, conserve your energy."

The captain at the end noticed they were nearly outrunning the heretics, leaving him no choice but to slow down for them to catch up a bit.

Moreover, they weren't running aimlessly—they were retreating towards adjacent squads, and during this process, the captain occasionally sounded the whistle.

Whistle responses echoed from afar.

"Stop, check weapons, prepare to shoot." Suddenly, the captain shouted, and everyone stopped, quickly checking their muskets and then raised them.

Even the new recruits didn't fall out during this process—they knew they just needed to follow orders, having gone through countless identical exercises in training that they could do with their eyes closed.

"Wait until they're close to fire, spread out a bit, form an arc formation to ensure fire coverage."

"Watch their movements; if she points the Magic Wand at you, dodge."

"If you can't dodge, don't panic; think of the Lord—no sorcery can break our will!"

Veterans keep imparting experience to the new recruits, words soaked with unfathomable cost.

Perhaps sensing the recruits' nervousness as the heretics steadily approached, the captain still reassured them.

"You have undergone rigorous training, emerging from brutal assessments—you are Hamlet's pride, no matter the situation, the enemy can't defeat us."

Now the heretics had closed within fifty yards.

"Fire!"

At the captain's shout, a round of gunfire rang out—at this range, accuracy was still pretty high, covering the heretics mostly.

However, the dense wilderness trees blocked some shooting angles, preventing maximum damage.

This round only knocked down two; even if shot, as long as they could move, it wasn't a problem—they kept advancing, their wounds beginning to heal.

And just then, two successive gunshots rang out in the woods, slicing obliquely into the heretic crowd, instantly mowing them down like wheat under the dense bullets.

The current musket's power isn't lethal to heretics, but a hit can tear wounds and thwart their attack.

"Support is here; reload quickly!"

The flanking ambush teams joined the attack, but no one intended on engaging closely, instead mutually covering while reloading, continually firing at heretics.

Soldiers heed the Lord's warning—they are Hamlet's precious blood; hand-to-hand combat is the last resort. They should leverage their advantage, using every means to weaken the enemy.

Surprise when possible, avoid direct confrontation if possible, attack if feasible, retreat if not, rally troops, and strike back—eliminate the enemy in motion.

Casualties appeared among the heretics, giving Heretic Priests the chance to cast sorcery.

Dragging bleeding, injured bodies, they prayed to the gods as they laughed maniacally and aimed their wands at the soldiers.

This is a strengthening sorcery using heretic death as sacrifices—a mysterious Corrupting Wind sweeps the battlefield, causing soldiers' hearts to tremble unconsciously, fear spreading within them.

On the contrary, the heretics were shouting wildly like on stimulants—even those fallen earlier rose, staggering to strike.

"Careful!" Some veterans experienced in similar incidents shouted warnings, "Quickly eliminate those priests!"

"Watch out for bombs!" The supporting squad captain saw the situation and couldn't care less, pulling out a grenade, lighting it, and tossing it at the Heretic Priests.

Soldier equipment continually updates—the previous round shape fit for cannon-launched explosives evolved into a smaller rendition, easily hand-gripped, transforming into a cylindrical form now.

The crude steel tube is crammed with explosives and shrapnel-like debris—this shape facilitates manufacturing, internally containing shrapnel, eliminating reliance on outer shell fragmentation.

More importantly, the cylindrical grenade's impact point is clearer—at least it won't bounce around or roll quickly.