Raising the feathered spear high above his head, the roar of Volovitz penetrated even the cacophony of gunfire: "Flank array deploy, triple formation strike."

The Holy Gun Cultivators moved at the command, with the first, third, and fifth rows stepping to the flank, while the second, fourth, and sixth rows stepped diagonally forward.

The original six rows of Holy Gun Soldiers interlocked with precision like gears, transforming into three rows.

The first row of Holy Gunmen knelt on one knee, the second row took a shooting stance with guns at the ready, and the third row stood upright, raising their holy guns.

The barrels reflected the scorching sunlight, enough to illuminate the bared jaws and teeth beneath the helmets of the King's Guard seventy steps away.

"First row, fire!"

The yellow-green smoke was shredded into tatters by the lead shot.

The metallic tearing sound as bullets penetrated the copper-plated breastplates even drowned out the screams, halting the charge of thousands of Leia soldiers in an instant.

"Grenadiers, time bombs! Second row, fire! Third row, fire!"

The twenty Long Spear Cultivators at the front of the spear phalanx sprinted in unison, hurling their time bombs like shot puts.

The ticking death knell forced the King's Guards to squeeze tighter into their already crowded formation, while the barrage of lead shot entangled their steps like a dense net.

Until the three falcon cannons were reloaded once more.

While other units had already withdrawn the falcon cannons, Volovitz had not, believing the spring-loaded cannons could fire another round before the enemy truly arrived.

And he was proven right.

"Boom——"

Thousands of pellets of iron and lead exploded over the King's Guards like the volcanic lava erupting forth, bursting into a tapestry of blood.

The King's Guard's charge crashed against an invisible iron wall, with the front row of guards clutching their wounds and falling like cut wheat.

Within a fifty-step radius, the wounded, corpses, and wailing scattered chaotically.

The charging formation of the King's Guard had come to a complete halt, visibly wavering.

"They can't break through. I knew it — the Holy Alliance's infantry is invincible!" howled Little Hart like a wolf, "Long Spearmen, prepare, charge!"

Little Hart was the first to charge out with his axe-gun in hand.

The Wild Wolf Cultivators raised their spears, launching a counter-charge against the retreating King's Guard in the front row.

The wounded still on the ground were trampled, their throat bones crushed under iron boots, while the trained guards were pierced through throat and thigh by simple thrusts.

The military bugle sounded urgently, one call after another.

The Square Array Commander of the King's Guard realized the unfavorable situation and immediately ordered a retreat.

After pursuing for thirty steps, the Long Spear Cultivators were called to halt and return by their officers' commands.

As for Volovitz, he strolled to the front line, picking up a pipe from a Double-Salary Great Swordsman for a couple of puffs.

He smiled as he watched the returning Long Spear Cultivators, among them a new recruit who had earlier wet his pants.

His face still smeared with warm blood, he grinned broadly and boasted, "I killed one with my own hands!"

Not only Volovitz's array but all infantry formations aligned in three lines were slowly retreating.

"They're withdrawing!"

"Great!"

The new recruits cheered in unison, but the veterans stood firm with their spears, without a hint of celebration.

Volovitz was about to step forward to reprimand them, but Little Hart held him back: "Let them have their moment, it's just the beginning."

As Volovitz had said, they had merely repelled a probing attack.

Leia is the Knight Country, and its greatest strength lies not in infantry but in cavalry!

If one were to look to the edges of the battlefield, they would see, beneath Grey Robe Hill, at the edge of the orchard and hillside, clusters of warhorses kicking up a golden dust storm.

Dirt and stones flew, swords clashed, with sparks trailing along blades and edges.

The twenty pincered Banner Captains led by Duke Barry surged forward like a tidal wave towards the battlefield.

These 2,000 cavalry were supposed to cover the retreating infantry with a flanking charge.

But now, they gritted their teeth, furiously shouting at the Kush Cavalry, entangled and unable to break free.

What sickened the knights most were the Guerrilla Hunters lurking behind the bushes and cherry trees.

Knights in garish armor crossed streams, leapt palisades, and broke through the cavalry line, only to stumble and fall as they ran.

Blood dripped down from the saddle and reins, and upon closer inspection, it was revealed that a lead pellet the size of a pinky nail had pierced his throat.

What is this? An ambush, no chivalry! No martial virtue!

"Clang—"

The neck armor of a Square Banner Knight shattered with a cracking sound, after which his vertebra broke, and he fell from the saddle with wide, vacant eyes.

The corpse was dragged for more than ten meters before getting caught in a bush of wild roses.

"Damn." The Banner Captain of this knight was furious, as the spring gun of those Guerrilla Hunters was much more accurate than ordinary spring guns.

Ignoring the signals waved by Duke Barry, the knight led more than eighty knights straight into the orchard.

"Prepare to retreat!" The captain of the Guerrilla Hunters raised his Helical Gun, ready to flee, but was halted by a deep female voice.

"No need, prepare to fire."

The hooves stepped into the orchard, and the knights, with eyes wide open, searched the woods for any trace of the Guerrilla Hunters.

He keenly heard a creaking sound, that of the clockwork gear being wound.

With movements as fluid as water, an arrow was drawn, and the knight nocked and loosed it, causing the Guerrilla Hunter behind him to fall in response.

Seeing that the ambush had failed, over thirty Guerrilla Hunters suddenly jumped out from behind the cherry trees.

In the instant they steadied themselves upon jumping out, they pulled the triggers of their Helical Guns.

At the moment of explosion, at least five knights who had charged into the orchard had their chests and necks burst into bloody holes.

"What bravery!" The enraged knight was about to draw another arrow but found nothing in the quiver.

Looking down, he saw that the quiver had somehow gotten caught on a vine.

The barbed vine twisted like a living creature, with light purple tree muscles knotted intricately, and blood-colored threads buried within the textures, with the barbs shimmering with a metallic luster.

The rage on the knight's face instantly turned into terror and paleness.

"Blood-sucking vine, damn it, damn it, the Witch of the Poison Vines is here too!"

......

Disregarding the loss of an entire banner, under Duke Barry's cavalry command, many banners still broke through the encirclement, closing in on the battle formations.

At this moment, Volovitz's army had just finished cheering, only to have to tighten their formation, lowering long spears in rows, and raising sabers, preparing to face the cavalry assault.

This was the wave attack popular within the Empire, attacking in waves under the premise of superior forces.

Like waves of the sea, one wave subsiding only for another to rise.

It's difficult for cannons to hit cavalry; they are inherently clumsy, let alone hitting a moving target.

Blinded packhorses pulled the wagons, transporting the cannon carriages along with the cannons.

Standing by the packhorses, Volovitz was still explaining the experience of dealing with cavalry charges: "Stay close, as tight as possible, press the bottom of the spear firmly to the ground, make sure it's steady.

Holy Gunman, remember, don't shoot people, hitting the front of the breastplate often deflects, shoot the edges or aim at the horse..."

Before finishing his sentence, a sharp whistling sound interrupted.

Volovitz instinctively asked, "Who fired the cannon?"

Before the words were fully spoken, the splattering earth was showering over Volovitz.

In the smoke and dust, he suddenly felt his hairs stand on end, instinctively jumping to one side, just as a rolling iron ball brushed past his heel.

"Damn you!" Volovitz coughed, turning around to angrily curse behind him, "Are you blind? How could you miss this badly? And you call yourself a gunner?!"

Struggling to wipe the mud off his face, his gaze followed the previous cannonball, and his pupils sharply contracted.

The cannonball, still trailing smoke, continued to roll, but its direction was towards the north.

In other words, the cannonball was rolling towards them.

Doesn't that mean...

Raising his head, Volovitz felt the blood rushing to his head.

Because there were several black dots flying in the sky, and the whistling sound was getting closer and closer.

Before the cannonball hit the ground, a rain of lead fell, piercing through Volovitz's arm.

"Ah—" Volovitz's forehead veins bulged, but he seemed to feel no pain, clutching his wound, he shouted towards Little Hart, "Watch out for the Leia people's clockwork cannons and Holy Gunmen!"

"I see it!" Little Hart's face twisted into something almost like a demonic mask, as he pulled a knight from his warhorse with an axe, with his prisoner pointing and shouting towards the direction of the artillery, "You traitor spawned from a bitch!"