Reinforcements?!
A cheer erupted from the direction of the city gate, as the fresh forces joining the battlefield bolstered the defenders’ morale.
"Right flank, cover!"
"Spearmen, form ranks! Archers, ready!"
Hosa, experienced in warfare, swiftly adjusted his formation to meet the enemy. He deployed the Saxon elite axemen, intending to break through the reinforcements with a direct charge after the first engagement. The first volley from the British Legion’s javelins was devastating, and the elite axemen, lacking shields, had no choice but to charge into close combat.
But just then.
Duncan, leading the general’s guard, collided with the approaching Saxon pirate riders!
Kill!
Duncan, wielding a lance, led the charge with a roar to the sky, "Form up! Wedge formation!"
——Lance Charge.
Blood sprayed wildly!
Horses wailed!
Duncan’s figure, lance held high, instantly pierced the Saxon pirate riders’ leader upon impact, and with a sweeping motion, his immense strength knocked another pirate rider to the ground, where they were trampled to death by the following general’s guard.
The wedge formation is an extremely aggressive formation, typically led by the most elite cavalry, with numbers increasing in each rank, forming a triangular attack formation.
This formation has a strong frontal impact, capable of quickly piercing through enemy lines and disrupting enemy command. However, while highly mobile, its defensive capabilities are weak, and if the first wave fails to create a breach, the flanks can be encircled and suffer heavy losses.
This battle!
Duncan personally led the charge!
He was like a sharp blade, carving a bloody path at the moment of collision between the two armies, effortlessly spearing a Saxon pirate rider to death beneath his horse, causing enemy riders to scatter before him with no one able to stop him!
The general’s guard swiftly expanded the results of their breakthrough, completely disorienting the enemy’s formation. Once Duncan carved a path through them, the nearly hundred pirate riders were split open, unable to mount any organized resistance.
Horses thundered along.
Duncan lifted a Saxon pirate rider with his lance, the spearhead piercing their chest, blood gushing from their mouth. He lofted the enemy corpse above his horse’s head and flung it several meters away.
On a distant hillside, Hosa’s face was filled with shock.
Is this still a human?
He had seen Germanic berserkers with innate divine power, but never had he encountered a warrior like Duncan.
He now felt caught between a rock and a hard place, unsure whether to retreat or advance.
"Gather up!"
Duncan halted several hundred meters from the enemy commander, having routed nearly a hundred Saxon pirate riders in a frontal assault, slaying more than a dozen without even drawing his Nord Bow. Relying entirely on his astounding personal prowess and the lord’s armor scavenged from Duke of Dingtiger, he easily crushed these enemies.
His combat power in armor was too ferocious!
Duncan required almost no defense, spearing one after another, killing more than a dozen consecutively.
The setting sun stained like blood.
On the other hillside, the general’s guard regrouped behind Duncan. The original more than thirty riders were down to just 28, with several wounded but still ferocious as ever, tightly following.
This scene even stirred a hint of fear in Hosa.
He urgently maneuvered forces to guard his flanks, gathering the chieftain’s guard and forming a defensive line ahead.
"Follow me!"
Duncan raised his lance, and with a resounding shout, he circled the enemy’s right side. Viewed from above, he identified every flaw in their formation, their frontline defenses unable to stop him, his cavalry needing just a short detour.
"Chieftain, retreat to the central army," a personal guard rider whispered beside him.
The pressure from Duncan was too overwhelming!
In one charge, he directly routed pirate riders three times his number, such courage they had never witnessed in a knight.
The wind howled, horses galloped.
Duncan reunited the remaining 28 riders, setting their sights on Hosa’s chieftain’s guard.
"Go!"
Hosa finally withdrew; he had the advantage in numbers, and if he could outlast the enemy, victory would be his eventually.
His five thousand strong army seemed sizable, but in dense formations, they could be housed on a single field. The battlefield outside Exeter was spread from groups of dozens to hundred-man squads. When his chieftain’s guard moved, surrounding central army forces began to converge, aiming to use sheer numbers to block the enemy’s advance.
Among the crowd, figures in cloth with tattooed skin approached.
——Germanic priests.
Duncan instantly sensed the sudden approach of a target. Within the crowd, a priest was closing in towards them, and he immediately drew his Nord Bow, shooting the priest dead with one arrow.
Though magical prowess in the Middle Ages was weak, Duncan couldn’t afford to be careless. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novęlfire.net
The distant enemy was in shock!
Hosa seemed to recall something; with Duncan’s fierce charge earlier, he thought the opponent intended to forcefully slice through to kill him. But seeing Duncan take out his bow, he quickly realized that killing him wouldn’t require such a hassle.
A hundred steps, a bull’s-eye!
Duncan, alone on horseback, locked onto his target from an overhead view, flanked by the 28 riders who protected his wings as he gradually closed on the enemy.
Two hundred meters away.
Duncan drew and nocked an arrow, releasing it with a howl, striking down one of the elite chieftain’s guards with precision.
Continuous fire.
He didn’t even hold the reins, stone-faced and steady, drawing another arrow swiftly and shooting again. Amid the wailing of horses, Hosa’s mount was critically wounded, pierced by armor-piercing arrowheads through its belly. The savage barbarian chieftain was thrown from the horse with a grunt, trying to remount by forcibly pulling down a chieftain’s personal guard nearby.
At this moment, Hosa genuinely felt fear!
The enemy wielded a powerful bow and was an archery god, seemingly with eagle eyes surveying the entire battlefield. Amidst the many guarding chieftains, he still got shot; this was beyond his previous understanding of warfare!
Can war be fought like this?
This delay allowed Duncan and his general’s guard to catch up to the enemy. Over ten chieftain guards turned their steeds to shield their retreat with their lives, while others bodily shielded Hosa, but the general’s guard confronted them head-on, carving a bloody path for Duncan.
They were the personal guard of this era, ready to give their lives for the general in battle.
"Is he out of arrows?"
The sound of hooves echoed.
Fleeing down the path, Hosa suddenly realized Duncan was raising his bow without an arrow and quickly saw this as an opportunity. He immediately ordered the sides to prepare for a counterattack, planning to encircle and kill Duncan, who had advanced alone.
At this moment, thanks to his remarkable riding skill, Duncan had already charged into the enemy formation, with his nearest general’s guard tens of meters away.
Hosa turned his steed, with over ten elite chieftain guards rushing forward.
So many of them.
No matter if Duncan was a descending god, he would still be stabbed to death by their spears!
——Wind Arrow!
The invisible wind roared, and Duncan’s mana bar was instantly depleted.
In Hosa’s incredulous eyes, Duncan’s war bow was drawn like a full moon, and something seemed to gather on the empty bowstring.
"No! It’s a trap!"
The fierce wind howled.
Amidst the chieftain’s guard encircling, Hosa’s body stiffened, with a blood hole suddenly appearing on his forehead, as the Wind Arrow pierced through his skull.
The surrounding chieftain guards were in disarray.
Duncan unsheathed the Oathkeeper longsword, slashing apart an enemy’s thrusting lance and with a roar, chopped off a grimly furious head.
"Protect the general!"
Twenty-one riders of the general’s guard fought to the death, several falling, yet they reached and protected Duncan by his sides.
The setting sun wept blood, the wind’s blade edged like a razor.
Duncan hoisted Hosa’s severed head with his lance, gazing at the distant battlefield still embroiled in desperate combat, and let out a terrifying roar!
"The enemy commander is dead! Surrender at once!"
Behind Duncan, the fierce wind roared, leaving sixteen blood-soaked riders standing, horses shrieking, each wounded, yet displaying the ferocity of tigers, akin to demonic killers from the underworld.
The entire battlefield fell into dead silence.
Then, a thunderous cheer and clamor arose, countless Saxon soldiers saw Hosa’s head lifted on a lance and swiftly lost their will to fight.
This scene was destined to be immortalized in the legends of Great Britain!
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