Sand Hill.

Compared to the tense troop mobilization by the Leia Army, the Holy Alliance Army seemed much more relaxed.

Today was a sunny day with a northern wind, so they weren't afraid of the Leia Army burning straw to release smoke and obscure the battlefield.

The officers could clearly see the movements of the Leia people, so there was no need to stand early.

Thus, in the Wild Wolf Battle Group's position, there was row after row of Holy Alliance Wild Wolf Cultivators sitting cross-legged.

They twitched their whiskers and slapped their thighs.

Some napped with narrowed eyes, some munched on sour apples and stinky cheese, and some chatted cheerfully with their companions.

Only the new soldiers were nervously praying, and the military chaplain was soothingly patting their backs.

Seeing the nervous appearances of the new soldiers, the veterans even laughed heartily, as if they were not on a battlefield but on a picnic or outing.

However, the officers paid no mind.

Even the two corps commanders, Little Hart and Volovitz, sat cross-legged, chatting face to face.

After the previous battles, Volovitz had become the acting corps commander of the Fifth Corps, and Little Hart had become acquainted with Volovitz during combat.

"What do you think of this?" Little Hart handed his notebook to Volovitz.

"Busenbuchen Pusent?" Volovitz shrugged dismissively, "A tongue-twister?"

"It's so rhythmic."

"No way."

"Then look at this, Bipubebu Pusent. If you were to have a daughter, she could use this name."

"...Is this a tongue-twister? How much resentment do you have against my unborn child?"

"Drawing two circles over your eyes, what are you pretending to be a college student?" Little Hart angrily closed his notebook, "It's just a name, my father, my uncle, my grandfather, and my cousin, they're all called Berhardt!"

"Then how do you distinguish them?"

"I'm Berhardt Twenty-Seven, my cousin is Berhardt Thirty-One."

Volovitz was speechless. He took out a piece of translucent wax paper from his pocket, which had more than a dozen names written on it.

"All of these seem viable to me. Which names do you think sound nice?"

"Lucien, Collen, Lumiere... These three names are nice, although certainly not as good as Bipubebu."

Snatching the wax paper from Little Hart's hand, Volovitz crossed out these three names with a charcoal pencil: "Of the remaining names, which do you think..."

"You..."

The two exchanged some curses, and then Jeska called Little Hart away.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Volovitz placed the clockwork gun that had been with him for three years across his knees.

Skillfully disassembling the clockwork box, he scraped off the solidified lubricant filled with iron dust with a small knife and wiped it on the grass.

He took a revitalizing salve from his belt, mixed it with the lubricant, and dripped it on the gear shaft.

The oily liquid slowly seeped into the holes in the clockwork shaft, instantly emitting a strange smell.

After doing all of this, Volovitz checked the anti-reverse pawl and the bronze clockwork before he confidently closed the lid.

Mixing the revitalizing salve with the lubricant was the latest method among the soldiers.

During firing, the clockwork shaft would heat up from friction, causing the revitalizing agent to evaporate into a white mist, negating the need to use smelling salts.

Testing showed it slightly obscured vision, but it saved several seconds, allowing for a few more shots.

Fondly caressing the stock that was almost polished, Volovitz murmured to himself: "Old friend, old friend, today you'll drink blood."

Gazing at the murder weapon in his hand, Volovitz momentarily felt dazed.

A year ago today, he had just moved into a new home with his wife Yan.

A year later today, he was risking his life on the battlefield with a group of strangers?

No, not strangers, enemies!

Future enemies!

If Leia won, these strangers in places he couldn't see would become enemies.

His child must never suffer the same fate as Sister Desiree!

"Bang—"

Behind him came the sound of a mechanism releasing, and dozens of green Dragon's Breath and clockwork bullets soared high.

When landing, the toxic smoke burned fiercely, and the clockwork bullets clicked.

Once the clicking sound stopped, though there was no actual sound, he could see seven or eight soldiers nearby suddenly freeze.

The poisonous smoke of the Green Dragon's Breath doesn't choke people; it can only rise to waist-high columns of smoke.

Its main use is to affect the performance of breathing techniques, causing those with two-stage breathing techniques to only perform at the level of one-stage.

"Get up, everyone stand up, we're about to start, each captain align your teams, watch over the newcomers!"

Volovitz slung his spring gun on his back, picked up the plume spear stuck in the ground, and quickly walked to the front of the array: "Lances up, Holy Gunmen take both flanks, execute immediately."

The previously loose wool-like formation suddenly tightened, and the columns moved forward and turned like centipedes.

In less than a minute, the Wild Wolf Cultivators, who were previously sitting on the ground chatting, had transformed into the silent iron of the Gallar Array.

The bright sunlight dyed the emerald poisonous smoke into a yellow-green hue.

Columns of smoke swayed southeast with the wind, slapping against the solid iron armor and spreading into wisps of smoke that crawled over their bodies.

It was as if they were piles of giants walking, and the poisonous smoke was merely a wall before them.

Amidst the beat of drums and the sound of military horns, three 2500-man phalanxes of the King's Guard were approaching at a slow pace.

To the sound of coughing, more and more armored soldiers emerged from behind the smoke, gradually filling Volovitz's entire field of vision from east to west.

"Damn it." Volovitz drew a protective symbol on his forehead, but he still couldn't shake the intense feeling of suffocation.

Tens of thousands of metal weapons formed a sea of silver and gold, spears, halberds, axes, guns, and great swords, vibrating, undulating, swaying.

The breathing of thousands of warhorses sounded like giant beasts lowly roaring.

With twenty thousand foot soldiers and four thousand cavalry, they occupied his entire view.

"Lord, Lord, Lord..."

A faint smell of urine carried in the wind, as the new soldiers murmured softly, not knowing who had wet their pants.

They dared not even turn their heads, as if doing so would instantly bring the massive army before them.

"No, no, I can't, Mom!" A lance fell to the ground, and a new soldier turned to flee.

But the Wild Wolf Battle Group was a formation of old soldiers surrounding the new ones; as soon as he moved, an old soldier at the back grabbed his collar, the soldiers on both sides clamped his arms, and the soldier at the front turned and punched him in the face.

"You want to be a deserter? Aren't you afraid of your whole family being exiled?"

The new soldier, sobbing, was released, his eyes closed, and the lance was stuffed back into his hands.

After some encouragement and scolding, the new soldier, still sobbing, was nailed to his spot.

Volovitz didn't bother with these new soldiers; he had been the same way back then.

As long as they fired their first shot on the battlefield, they would be half veterans, and once their military knife made its first stab, they would become veterans.

"Prepare the cannons." Volovitz raised his plume spear, and the artillerymen and service soldiers quickly assembled the spring mechanism, loaded the cannonballs, and adjusted the angles.

Beside the three corps-owned Falcon Cannons, small triangular flags were raised, and the Leia people's shin guards pushed aside the shrubs tied with red cords.

"Fire!"

Volovitz's plume spear struck the ground.

In front of the formations of the three battle groups, a total of 32 Falcon Cannons roared simultaneously.

Fist-sized iron balls shattered the air, shattered armor, shattered flesh, and finally pierced through bodies.

The front Double-Salary Great Swordsmen and Walking Knights suddenly screamed, their backs erupting in spurts of blood, their fascia and vertebrae exposed to the air.

The iron balls also managed to snap several soldiers' legs and arms before sinking into the mud pit, unable to move.

The new soldiers craned their necks, thinking these infantry would retreat, but they were wrong.

Yet these soldiers seemed fearless, continuing to step forward calmly, as if the bodies beneath their feet were mere stones.

"It's the King's Guard, look at their big red plumes." Someone reminded.

The conspicuous red was indeed eye-catching and quite imposing.

Clearly a 2500-man formation, yet they dared to form a 25X100 linear formation, matching the width of the Gallar Array!

These King's Guard were the most elite infantry of the Leia, their willpower and morale incomparable to ordinary infantry.

"Shrapnel!"

The three Falcon Cannons were quickly reloaded and calibrated, the pins pulled down.

Amidst the crackling sound of lead and iron sand piercing armor, the front row of King's Guards fell like wheat being cut.

But it must be said, the royal potion workshop indeed used strong materials.

Under the dual blessing of Divine Art and potion, their eyes turned crimson as if unable to see their fallen comrades, only a corner had crumbled.

However, their commanders knew this wasn't a long-term solution, and with even more rapid drumbeats and horn sounds.

The King's Guards collectively let out a battle cry, their steady march turning into a charge, heading towards Volovitz's line.