Chapter 1210: Chapter 28 Great Alliance Moves Forward (13)_3

Judging from the military flags, the troops attacking the Alliance’s left-wing come from the “Reorganized New Reclamation Legion,” originally under General Adams’ command.

Because Captain Sakahich used flags similar to theirs, only with some differences in detail.

Although unwilling to concede, the captain had to admit that Colonel Skool’s judgment was perfectly accurate.

The enemy deployed six infantry battalions in front of the artillery position, with cavalry on both flanks.

If Sakahich really risked everything to cross the river and attack the artillery position, then the newly harvested wheat field on the East Bank would become his slaughterhouse.

But at this moment, it wasn’t Sakahich’s subordinates stepping into this killing zone, but soldiers from the Grand Council in light brown uniforms.

Utilizing the range advantage of artillery, the Grand Council army successfully forced the Rebels’ left-wing troops to withdraw from the riverbank defense line. Seizing this opportunity as the Rebels’ left-wing retreated, the Grand Council’s right-wing formations began to advance.

However, if the commander of the Grand Council’s right-wing believed his enemy would willingly give up the defense line, then he was certainly unfamiliar with Colonel Skool.

The ammunition had been loaded, the matchlock set; musketeers from Thunder Group County and Riverside County were ambushed behind field embankments and bushes, unintentionally holding their breaths.

“Without orders, no one is to open the powder pool! The one who fires recklessly, I’ll kill him!” Sakahich warned in a low voice, ruthlessly. He nudged the musketeers on both sides: “Pass it down!”

Meanwhile, six formations of the Grand Council army were steadily approaching the riverbank.

The soldiers in light brown uniforms were arranged neatly, their steps steady; their military appearance could be described as magnificent:

The soldiers with tassel helmets holding long halberds walked at the forefront of the formations, musketeers distributed at the four corners, with the first line of spearmen equipped with breastplates with iron skirts, and most soldiers in the rear wearing iron helmets.

However, at about fifty meters from the riverbank, they met a frontal assault.

Sakahich aimed steadily at a soldier with white tassels at the formation’s front, skillfully opened the powder pool, and mercilessly pressed the trigger: “Open fire! Aim at their halberd bearers! Aim at their double-draw soldiers!”

Smoke trickled from the field embankment, like a lid lifted by steam. Gunfire erupted by the riverbank, and many soldiers in brown uniforms at the very front fell in response.

Sakahich had just fired a shot and barely had time to confirm the outcome before immediately taking another loaded matchlock gun handed to him by the soldiers behind him.

When he pressed the stock against his cheek once more, he noticed the soldier with white tassels that he had aimed at earlier had fallen clutching his chest. So, he shifted the gun, aiming at another first-line “double-draw soldier,” calmly opening the powder pool and pressing the trigger.

Other musketeers did the same, switching guns after shots. Their prone position made it difficult for them to pour powder into the barrels, relying on comrades behind them for loading.

After two rounds, gunfire from the West Bank grew sparse, with musketeers busy reloading.

Meanwhile, the Grand Council army had already recovered from the brief panic of the ambush; the formations at the end of the line continued to advance, attempting to encircle the riverbank defenders, while musketeers from frontal formations quickly moved up to deploy.

This time, gunfire erupted densely from the East Bank.

Captain Sakahich was momentarily pinned down, unable to lift his head. Lead shots hit field embankments and bushes, raising dust and sending branches flying.

The captain laughed heartily, shouting to his troops behind the field embankment: “Where are those fools aiming? At branches? At mud? Come on, guys, we can play with them here all day!”

Despite his words, the gunfire from the East Bank was indeed denser and more rhythmic than that from the West Bank.

Yet, just when the Grand Council’s right-wing commander believed he had successfully suppressed the enemy before him, only waiting for the flanking allies to encircle, Colonel Sanel arrived at the artillery position, nearly exploding with rage.

Perhaps due to the terrain, the frontline commander in the farmland couldn’t ascertain the enemy’s strength, whereas the vantage of Colonel Sanel offered a clear view.

The Rebels’ left-wing troops were still cowering on the verge of effective cannon range; were there any enemies on the riverbank? Just a few musketeers resisting stubbornly.

Moreover, the Rebels hid behind field embankments and bushes, making it difficult for the Council’s musketeers to effectively kill them. Conversely, the Council’s soldiers stood foolishly in the recently harvested farmland, naked targets.

The artillery commander urgently replaced round shots with grapeshot but felt troubled–using heavy artillery to bombard those scattered behind field embankments was tantamount to wasting ammo; without using the cannon, they could only watch allies getting hit.

Before the artillery commander could ask for instructions, the furious Colonel Sanel galloped down the hill, shouting at the incompetent formation leader, ordering him to charge while mobilizing the cavalry units on both flanks to cross the river and encircle the enemy.

Captain Sakahich saw an officer on the other side of the river ride down the slope, soon followed by the clumsy, sluggish enemy formations “waking up,” with cavalry on the flanks also moving.

Captain Sakahich knew it was time to retreat, but he still couldn’t resist gambling once more.

“Quick! Give me the gun! Hurry!” Sakahich focused on the figure in an officer’s uniform across the river, anxiously urging his troops: “Give me a loaded gun!”

The musketeers behind him quickly pulled the ramrod out from the barrel, handing the matchlock gun to the captain.

Sakahich personally set the match, steadied the gun, aimed at the officer in the distance issuing commands, praying as he pulled the trigger: “Let me end this massacre! Merciful Lord!”

A flash of fire, the lead shot exited the barrel, and as the smoke cleared, Sakahich disappointedly saw the officer still sitting unscathed on his saddle.

Meanwhile, Colonel Sanel touched his cheek, dug his spurs into the horse’s flank, and swiftly turned to leave.

Upon seeing the other side flee, Sakahich slammed his fist on the field embankment, ordering, “Sound the bugle! Retreat!”

The sharp bugle piercing the battlefield’s cacophony, the musketeers behind the field embankment scrambled to their feet, heading toward the distant formations. Sakahich also picked up his sword, striding swiftly toward the formations he commanded.

But at that moment, the Grand Council’s artillery commander seized the opportunity of the Rebels’ musketeers leaving cover and ordered the artillery to open fire.

The 32-Pounder Cannons spewed thick smoke, pouring relentless lead rain onto the fleeing figures.

The West Bank wheat field seemed raked by a comb, instantly etched with many “scratches.” Many musketeers fell suddenly without any warning, never getting up again.

Upon hearing the thunderous sound behind, Captain Sakahich immediately shouted to his comrades, “Scatter!”

But he made no sound, his last orders dissipating in his chest. Sakahich was ripped apart by walnut-sized lead bullets, leaving him sprawled in the wheat field, saying farewell to all future killing.

The six formations of the Grand Council army, shouting, crossed the unnamed river, while light cavalry encircled from both flanks, intending to slaughter all the Rebels’ musketeers.

However, formations on the West Bank were also beating war drums, flags fluttering, with six formations from Thunder Group County and Mont Blanc County confronting the six formations of the Grand Council army.

Simultaneously, Thunder Group County cavalry hidden behind River Valley Village Heights sliced diagonally out, cutting one wing of the “pseudo-army” cavalry in half.

In the fields north of River Valley Village, the two armies clashed with a thunderous crash.