Chapter 1213: Chapter 30 Great Alliance Moves Forward (15)

[Southern Division Battlefield]

Gaisa Adonis tightly hugged his arms, lowering his head to listen to the faint gunfire coming from the riverbank. Fresh scratch marks, seeping blood, covered his scalp, making for a chilling sight.

Whenever Gaisa thinks, he subconsciously scratches his head. But this was the first time he had done it to such an extent.

Gaisa’s fingernails were not long, but he was not aware of how much force he used–or perhaps he needed some pain.

It wasn’t quiet around the Colonel, yet the oppressive atmosphere was nauseating. The messenger closest to the Colonel tried his best not to make any noise because no one wanted to be noticed by the Colonel.

Five battalions of Mont Blanc County soldiers arrayed themselves in the wheat field, their line extending from the ford outside River Valley Village to the edge of the farm’s ridges.

Their enemies similarly arrayed on the opposite bank. Looking north, one could vaguely see the gun tips floating in the white smoke.

And in front of the two armies’ spearmen and sword and shield bearers, the musketeers seemed to be engaging in an endless competition of wasting gunpowder.

The accuracy of the unrifled matchlock guns was limited, so the musketeers, using the floodbank as cover, found it difficult to seize the fleeting shooting windows to hit the enemy musketeers also hiding behind ridges.

Not to mention, the continuous gunfire in their ears and the pungent smell of gunpowder in their nostrils caused the recruits to panic unconsciously.

The Mont Blanc County musketeers, many of whom were on the battlefield for the first time, just wanted to quickly shoot their lead bullets across the river, without caring much about aiming precisely.

So much so that the River Valley Village upstream, where the gunfire was most concentrated, was actually the most passive and stalemated area on the entire battlefield.

A rider came galloping from afar, intercepted by the scouts patrolling the farm’s perimeter. The rider tore off the red ribbon tied to his arm, lifted his helmet to reveal his identity, shouted anxiously a few times, and was soon allowed to pass.

The rider, returning from reconnaissance across the river, came directly beside Colonel Gaisa, dismounted urgently, and reported in a rapid, low voice: “It’s the ‘Seven First King Flag’.”

“You’re sure?” Gaisa stared into the rider’s eyes.

“No mistake, a white background with circular pattern military flag, five fully equipped infantry battalions.” The rider met the Colonel’s gaze fearlessly: “It’s definitely the detouring enemy force that Captain Luosong discovered earlier.”

Gaisa did not comment, instead asking: “Who’s their commander?”

“The enemy hasn’t displayed their commander’s personal flag, but from the formation they’ve set up, it looks like they’re trying to be a turtle.” The rider hesitated, glanced toward the northern division battlefield where the situation was unclear, and finally suggested, gritting his teeth:

“Sir, Colonel Bod guessed wrong, the main force of the pseudo-army is not on the left flank but on the right! The enemy across the river clearly intends to hold us down, waiting for their right flank to crush Colonel Skool’s forces. Since they’ve decided not to cross the river, then we can only fight across! Whatever the case, it’s better than sitting like this!”

Gaisa cast a glance at the anxious subordinate: “Be patient, Lieutenant Washington.”

“Yes.” Washington forced himself not to show disappointment, saluting.

Gaisa was about to inquire further when he spotted a junior officer riding down from the highland of River Valley Village, accompanied by a messenger rider in a dark green coat, heading straight towards him.

The messenger rider brought the long-awaited oral command for the Mont Blanc County officers: “Sir, Colonel Bod orders you to attack across the river with three battalions.”

Lieutenant Washington clenched his fists, growling lowly, then looked eagerly at Colonel Gaisa–regardless of any order given by Bod, the ultimate command of the Mont Blanc County troops rested with Colonel Gaisa.

Gaisa’s expression shifted unpredictably. He turned to look at the Mont Blanc junior officer who returned with the messenger, asking deeply: “Only three battalions?”

“Yes.” The officer affirmed: “I personally heard Colonel Bod’s order.”

Gaisa was silent for a moment, finally slapping his head hard: “Fine! Three it is!”

The Colonel seemed like a different person, regaining a bull-like ferocity. He gruffly issued a series of orders, instructing each officer on their duties and adjusting the positions of each battalion and even each hundred-men squad.

The headquarters staff, who had just dared not even breathe loudly, were invigorated. As the Mont Blanc County command system began to operate, the giant beast lying dormant in the southern division battlefield slowly awoke.

The Grand Council Army musketeers on the opposite bank were the first to notice something amiss: the hoofbeats across the river suddenly became dense; many dark green coated figures flitted between the square formations; the forest of spears floating in smoke behind the ford at the village’s edge began to move slowly.

The Grand Council Army commander accordingly adjusted the deployment, directing most soldiers towards the ford.

However, the Mont Blanc County forces’ attack did not initiate from the ford–the easiest point upstream of the village to cross the river.

No horn sounded, no drumbeat; as the Grand Council Army nervously repositioned, the Mont Blanc County troops in the center of the southern division battlefield charged out of the gunpowder smoke and mounted the East Bank.

…

[Northern Division Battlefield]

As the Mont Blanc County force finally broke the deadlock, the showdown on the northern division battlefield reached its most critical moment.

Following the same version of the “Legion Regulations”, neither army’s battalion allocates more than one-third of its total forces to musketeers.

This means that regardless of the time spent in the shooting phase, they would ultimately have to settle the score through melee combat.

Therefore, reluctantly and unwillingly, the soldiers of both armies could only face each other with great fear, advancing to the beat of drums.