The liege's order to 'clean up' was spread among Cecil's soldiers, and the pursuit had become almost mechanical — at least for Cecil's army.
Every day, the scouts at the frontlines and the spies planted in the noble army would deliver the latest intelligence to the commander of the army. But even without that intelligence, the disorderly noble army could hardly hide their tracks as they fled. Cecil's army locked onto the massive enemy army from a distance that was neither too far nor too close, and would bombard them as soon as they stopped. There was no normal food, no normal sleep, and almost no time to stop. In fact, it was a test of willpower for both sides in pursuit, but it was clear that the noble army's test was more difficult.
Cecil's soldiers had the chance to take shifts and rest, and the surging fighting spirit after their victory spurred them to keep moving forward. Along the way, they kept destroying various nobles' garrisons to bring them sufficient supplies, and after Cecil's homeland was safe, reinforcements were sent from his domain, further reducing the pressure on the pursuers.
On the other hand, the noble army was rapidly being pushed to their limits.
In fact, they had long since reached their limits. For the nobles' private army that had little cohesion and discipline in this era, when the heavy magic crystal cannons destroyed their entire vanguard, the nobles who possessed Extraordinary powers, Knight, and mages all died on the battlefield like normal infantry, most of the civilians in the army had lost their will to fight.
One of the reasons why they were still fleeing today was that the Knight and the nobles in the army were still trying to maintain their last dignity. Although Cecil's' Skyfire Explosion 'was terrible, the Extraordinary experts who were close at hand were even more intimidating to the ordinary soldiers. The pressure that these' upper-class' had accumulated for a long time had been deeply imprinted in the minds of the serfs, private soldiers, and young men, and they were still barely holding their ranks together.
Another reason was Count Hoffman's propaganda before the war, and the rumors that were still circulating among the remaining soldiers of the army. Many people believed that Cecil's people rose to power by means of sorcery and blasphemy, and that falling into the hands of Cecil's people would be worse than death. The land of Cecil was full of lies, sin, blasphemy, and madness. Such groundless rumors should have been dismissed by rational people, but they were deeply rooted in the minds of the superstitious and ignorant private soldiers. With the ruthless pursuit and terrifying force of Cecil's people, the strength of these prejudices even allowed the nobles' private army, which should have had no cohesion, to hold on until today.
But no matter how long they held on, their physical strength and willpower were finally reaching their limits.
The cold night wind blew across the plains, bringing with it the sweetness of spring bellflowers. Knight Bartell from Crete sat in a cold pit, counting the time silently with his two Knight companions and nine squires. Beside them were a few dozen people. They were private soldiers, archers, coolies, and serfs from the Bartell area.
These were all the people who had set off from Bartell and survived. Their liege was dead, and more than a hundred of their brothers and sisters had been separated during the escape. Even they themselves had lost contact with the rest of the army before nightfall. In the darkness of the night, no one dared to light up their lanterns to look for their companions. No one even dared to call out to the other noble armies that might be nearby. The dozens of people who had finally reunited after being separated could only gather in the cold darkness of the night, quietly waiting for the next day.
Waiting for a tomorrow that may not necessarily come.
No one spoke. Even when the first ray of the morning sun appeared on the horizon, no one raised their head to look at the horizon. Bartell lowered his head, his bloodshot eyes staring at the ground beneath his feet. Hunger and sleepiness tore at his nerves at the same time. He did not want to say a word or move an inch.
He had not slept for days and nights. Everyone here had not slept for days and nights. Even Transcendents would reach their limits under such circumstances, let alone ordinary people. Bartell just wanted to lie down and sleep. He wanted to return to his warm manor, drink a mouthful of spicy ginger wine, and sleep for three to five days. But he knew he did not have the chance. He could not return to his manor because just yesterday, his troops had passed by the manor and were driven out by cannonballs that fell from the sky in a very short time.
Bartell put his hand into his pocket and silently took out the last of his food: a small piece of black bread that looked like a piece of wood. Following his action, the people around him also took out the last of their food — small pieces of bread, dried cheese, bread slices, or nothing.
These were not their rations, but they were looted from the fields and villages along the way. But most of the time, they did not even have the chance to grab a bite of food. The Cecil people had been trying to drive them away in the desolate wilderness, like a pack of wolves driving a flock of sheep.
There was no grill, no cooking pot, and the rising smoke would attract the Cecil people's "fire from heaven". This was one of the few useful experiences they had during the days of escape. The small group of fugitives brought the last of their food to their mouths. Before the first ray of the morning sun shone on their faces, they began to eat silently. Bartell bit hard on the low-quality black bread that he would never eat in the past. His bloodshot eyes were full of fatigue.
He wanted to sleep, no matter the cost. He just wanted to sleep now. He wanted to eat his fill and lie down. He did not want anything to stop him.
A sharp whistling sound came from afar as it flew across the sky.
This sharp whistling sound was the language of the devil, the voice of death, calamity, and cursing the gods. The moment the whistling sound sounded, Bartell felt every pore on his body tighten subconsciously. But before his muscles were about to push him up from the ground, he stopped because of another more intense and irrational reason.
He did not want to get up. He just wanted to rest. He just wanted to stay here quietly. To? Him? Mother? Life and dignity! He did not? Want? To? Come!
Bartell's eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth as he looked at the ground under his feet. Around him, two Knight companions, nine squires, and dozens of private soldiers stood still after a short moment of trembling and nervousness.
No one stood up. Only a few pairs of numb eyes looked up and glanced around with lifeless eyes.
A sharp whistling sound cut through the sky, and a chilling explosion came from afar. The ground under them trembled slightly from the explosion. It was a terrifying force that could kill a high-grade Knight and a mage. Bartell listened to the explosion and silently picked up the food in his hand and put it to his mouth.
His companions did the same. After a short moment of hesitation, they continued to eat.
The second whistling sound came from the sky, and a moment later, the second explosion shook the world.
The tremors of the explosion and the weakness of his body caused the hard bread in Barter's hand to fall to the ground. He looked numbly at the mud-stained bread and picked it up expressionlessly. He continued to stuff it between his teeth and chewed on it as if he was chewing a piece of wood.
The third whistling sound came, and this time the explosion seemed to be a little closer.
Even if the 'Heavenly Fire Explosion' fell on top of his head, he did not want to get up! They did not want to get up!
They tore at the remaining bread and flatbread. The human spirit of sharing even emerged in some people's minds. Those who still had food divided it into two portions and sent it to the hungry companions beside them. In the deafening roar of the Heavenly Fire Explosion, the Knight from Crete and the soldiers led by him ate the last of the food in silence until the explosion subsided. They waited until the unique smell of the magic explosion drifted to them.
Then they sat quietly between the pit and the rocks. They did not think or do anything.
When one of Cecil's "recovery teams" discovered this group, the captain of the team was shocked.
A few noble Knight and dozens of private soldiers were sitting only a few hundred meters away from the last bombardment. Half of them had fallen asleep, and those who were awake looked at Cecil's soldiers with a numb expression. Their lifeless eyes left a deep impression on the leader of the recovery team. Many years later, the leader of the recovery team described the scene he saw as follows:
"… After crossing that limit, their (the allied noble army's) will is completely destroyed. They move on the plains like walking corpses. When their strength is exhausted, they stop and sit anywhere. Even when our cannonballs land next to them, they are completely unmoved. They will finish the last of their food and wait like that. Surrender? No, they did not want to surrender. They did not think about it at all. They just waited there. But when we arrived, they cooperated and threw out their weapons. The only thing they asked was to sleep. It seemed that as long as they could have a good rest, they would do anything. "
On the eighth day after the battle at Gravel Ridge, the fleeing noble army began to surrender in large numbers. Or rather, they stopped and quietly waited for Cecil to 'recruit' them.
Knight Philip and Walter? Perry saw the most incredible scene they had ever seen since they joined the army: people who had completely lost their will to fight wandered on the plain in groups like walking corpses. They did not need to fight to capture captives. They just needed to fire a few shots under their feet or throw a crystal grenade in the distance.
They would naturally stop. If they were given a rope, they would even tie their hands.
On the tenth day after the battle at Gravel Ridge, the Cecil Combat Corps entered the western region of the Southern Territory. After a series of detours, they took a long detour around the Caloro-Consco area and continued their 'pursuit' towards Hosman's territory. In the afternoon of this day, Knight Byron led a thousand reinforcements and a large number of supplies from Cecil and completed the rendezvous with the Philip Combat Corps.
Genius memorized this site's address in one second:. Mobile version of reading website:.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
