June 15th, noon.

Dusk Bell Mountain Pass.

The sun overhead emitted intense light and heat.

The golden grass, growing to shin length, drooped into the clear creek.

The creek reflected the sky, making the golden grass look like colossal columns reaching to the heavens.

Yet this tranquility of late spring and early summer did not last long.

The tips of the grass started to move with the ground's vibrations, even causing inexplicable ripples in the creek.

"Neigh——"

With a cry, countless horse hooves fiercely trampled on the clear creek water, splashing muddy sprays.

Centaurs, adorned with ear studs and bone spikes on their skin, dashed through the stream.

Following them were three batches of eight hundred heavy armored knights, followed closely by soldiers mounted on mules and donkeys.

Trailing behind were farm soldiers and foot soldiers, panting and gasping, tongues hanging out in exhaustion.

The news arrived last night, the meeting was held at dawn, and by the time the border knights swiftly returned to Dusk Bell Mountain, it was already noon.

This rapid action caught even Mengse off guard.

By the usual conduct of the Imperial Knights, organizing over 8,000 troops to return would likely take until evening starting from the morning, yet these border knights arrived by noon.

Holding a spyglass, Mengse stood on top of the carriage, looking towards the direction indicated by the Dragon Cavalry.

Between the azure sky and the green grassland, the dust raised by the warhorses formed a towering dirt-yellow wall.

Even from such a distance, the fierce roars of the Centaur Warriors could still be heard by the Close Guard Cultivators.

Putting down the spyglass, Mengse took a deep breath, easing his heart's intense beating due to tension, then turned his head: "How are the fortifications?"

"Bastion walls one, two, and five are completed, but three, four, six, seven, and eight are not."

"Estimate the work, continue what can be finished within two hours, and plant wooden planks where it can't be completed."

"Understood." The Messenger immediately mounted his horse.

Watching the Messenger's departing figure, one could see the green grassland beneath the stairway.

The nearby village houses were dismantled, leaving enough bricks and stones.

The Service Soldiers and local Shepherds pushed unicar wheelbarrows with sails back and forth between the rear and frontline.

Corps Commanders took the lead, rolling up sleeves, tucking shirt hems in belts, and digging the hard ground with faces covered in dust.

Even as the central army, the Close Guard Cultivators relentlessly carried wicker baskets, pouring mortar and rubble into the wooden frameworks.

This was the usual style of the Holy Alliance; officer and soldier status may not be equal, but the work must be.

According to the Holy Alliance's Soldier's Holy Scripture, each bastion wall was 50 meters long, 1.5 meters high, with downward triangle shooting embrasures at the top, and infantry passages of 3-5 meters between each bastion wall.

No trenches were dug in front of bastion walls; sharp wooden stakes and fences were placed instead, and the border knights were equipped with many Extraordinary Monks to help them cast the Divine Art known as "Walk Like on Flat Ground."

However, due to the short time, they only managed to dig one bastion wall, let alone any other fortifications.

This meant they were highly likely to engage in close combat with the enemy forces.

While Close Guard Cultivators were not afraid of close combat, this could result in considerable casualties.

These were the Pope's Forbidden Army; could they afford such casualties?

Mengse was momentarily troubled.

Yet he did not realize that the troubles he caused for Cosme were far greater than those Cosme caused for him.

Standing on a hill, Cosme relied on sharp vision to overlook the landscape.

Sporadic wheat fields were scattered by the riverbank, further beyond were fenced pastures, and even now Shattered Stone Plain sheep and cows leisurely grazed within.

Behind the side of the pasture was the stairway position they once seized.

The undulating slopes and hilltops now rebuilt with tamped earth bastion walls and sharp wooden stakes.

Such bastion walls existed before; the Guerrilla Hunters, Forbidden Army, and Vanguard Corps could quickly repair them, which was normal.

But the small plain beneath the stairway seemed unusual.

The narrow corridor of five miles long and two miles wide was once again enveloped in dust within half a day.

They had managed to build at least three more bastion walls.

At the current pace, by the time their forces assembled, there would likely be more than just three bastion walls.

Cosme, holding full command authority, furrowed his brow, feeling more intense than when he was a Knight Commander.

It must be said, the Grand Master's words were true; this place indeed was unfit for battle.

Although said to be two miles wide, the combat width was far less.

The west side, close to the river, had many villages, wheat fields, and ditches blocking cavalry charges, only infantry soldiers could advance.

The east side had elite Close Guard Cultivators stationed at the stairway, attacking from the flank would face concentrated fire from the mountain.

Thus, the feasible attack width might be only six to seven hundred meters.

That meant cavalry and infantry couldn't advance together.

Merely one thousand infantry in a formation would occupy 50 meters of battlefield width and 100 meters of maneuver width.

Four thousand soldiers would suffocate the knights' mobility completely.

Admittedly, the Mad Pope's overnight forced march to capture the stairway was a brilliant move.

First, it dispersed forces, avoiding crowding on the narrow battlefield.

Second, it allowed flank support, further compressing the knights' maneuver scope.

If the stairway was attacked first, considering its current strength of nearly two thousand (consisting of the Vanguard Corps, Holy Armor Forbidden Army, and a few Guerrilla Hunters), it might take three to four days to seize it.

Though the Grand Master promised the assault, it was not without conditions.

"Two days, break the enemy within two days, if no progress is made, must retreat."

Emmerick's resolute yet chilling words left Cosme now a bit uneasy.

If this battle wasn't victorious, upon returning to the Border Territory, the consequences would likely be grim.

A bitter smile touched his lips as Cosme refocused on the scene ahead.

"This battle won't be easy," Knight Commander Tadrashe, as deputy commander, rode alongside Cosme.

"Whether it's hard or not depends on our own strategy and tactics," Cosme removed his scorching iron gloves, "How many do we have available?"

"40 banners (around 1600 knights), 4000 soldiers, plus Centaur Cavalry 100 Batu 300 full firepower allocated to us."

Emmerick didn't hand over all forces to Cosme but held back 900 knights and over 2000 soldiers.

Because even with all 8500 forces, deploying only three to four thousand upfront at the stairway was possible.

Given that, less force might be preferable.

"Keep the Centaur Cavalry as reserves, for now, keep them uninvolved, tell them victory means double rewards and slaves," Cosme adeptly listed ten names, "Tadrashe, lead these ten banners, charge immediately!"

"Now?"

"Yes, now," Cosme watched the still hastily repairing fortifications of the Imperial Guard, "They rely on the fortifications, aren't fully repaired yet, this is their most fragile moment.

If you can pierce their defenses in this battle, I'll personally lead 10 banners to support…"

Before Cosme could finish, they were pierced by the dreaded screech.

With a boom, cart wheels, soldier corpses, and soil leaped up, crashing heavily to the ground.

A massive iron ball crushed a horse's leg before halting in a ditch.

Watching the horse writhing in pain and continually whining, the formerly easy-going eyes of Cosme sharpened: "Tadrashe, the battle has already begun!"