Chapter 164: Long Bridge, Bloody Road! (End) [6k Ultra HD Remastered Version]

The wooden bridge on the long bridge, which was suspended by thick iron cables, made a creaking sound, and the bridge surface even began to tremble slightly as the refugees stepped back and forth.

Unlike before when they crossed the wooden bridge and rushed to the City Hall, the morale of the refugees today is no longer as high as before.

You know, there were nearly three thousand refugee salvation soldiers who crossed the long bridge, and they were almost killing the one thousand mercenaries in the alley.

Once they entered the alley, the power of the knights' charge was greatly reduced, and now only fifty knights were able to defeat them without any armor.

Counting the people walking on the bridge, there were about a thousand people who stayed on the other side. Some of them were killed or injured in the previous battle, and the rest were left behind there.

Although he didn't know where the wall of fog came from, Horn was glad that most of the people on the opposite side had withdrawn.

As for the morale issue, there is no time to take care of it for the time being. They have more important things to do.

In the night wind, the thick fog was gradually blown away, the thick iron chains of the entire long bridge began to sway, and horse hooves beat rhythmically on the bridge boards.

The black shadow gradually became clear in the thick white fog. The long sword broke through the white fog first and rushed forward.

Thirty extraordinary knights formed three columns and rushed out from the white fog. The fog hung between the gaps in their armor like ribbons and drifted far away.

There was only one end to their charge - the refugees on the other side of the bridge.

"Lancer, Holy Gunner, forward!"

Commanding the crowd to retreat and leave some space, Horn shouted to the Holy Gunners behind the crowd.

After pushing aside the refugees blocking the road, the old camp of the Salvation Army finally appeared.

The Black Hat Army's spearmen came to the first row with their spears. They placed the back end of the spears on the ground and pointed the front end at the extraordinary knights.

Three rows and seven columns of holy musketeers stepped forward and stood in a staggered manner with the spearmen. Since the accuracy of the clockwork muskets was too poor, they could only make up for it with number and range.

The first row is still half-kneeling, the second row is bowing forward, and the third row is standing upright.

But what was different this time was that they lost three clockwork guns, and they were not facing just six knights, but thirty of them.

The leader was none other than Frisiska, who was completely excited by the high-speed charge and killing.

Charging and killing, this is what a knight should do. A knight should ride on a high-speed horse and take off heads one by one.

It sounds a bit vulgar, but when Frisiska thought about it, she just stood up.

The infantry were weak, and they were actually advised not to cross the bridge, but what kind of knights would they be if they didn't cross the bridge.

The area around his vision turned red, and he could only see a clear dot in front of him, while everything on both sides was blurry.

All he could see was the cowardly enemy before him, those lowly unclean ones who deserved to die.

"Unclean ones, run!" Frisiska shouted at the holy musketeers in front of him with a grim smile, "Myrcella's messenger is here to take your heads!"

The laughter reached Horn's ears. He took a deep breath, picked up the 40mm clockwork hand cannon, and stood among the holy gunners.

Amid the sound of gears turning continuously, Horn leveled his hand cannon and aimed at the first knight in front of him.

Seeing Frisiska pass the red ribbon, Horn called out, "Fifty yards."

The horse's hooves trampled over the body of an old man, and Horn continued to shout: "Forty yards!"

Amid the increasingly rapid sound of horse hooves, Horn gradually saw the ferocious faces of the knights.

"Thirty yards... ready!"

Steadying the gun rack in front of him, Horn took a deep breath through his nose, pulled out the key of the clockwork hand cannon, and roared: "Praise the Holy Spirit!"

A solid bullet the size of a pigeon egg flew out from the dark muzzle of the hand cannon, and the whistling sound of the air pressure equalization hole pierced the eardrums.

The bullet cut through the air, making a terrifying scream, and hit the visor of the knight in the front directly.

The sturdy visor caved inward, and blood plasma mixed with broken bones spurted out from the gaps in the helmet visor.

The knight's head flew backwards, and his entire body fell to the ground on his back.

"Xilulu——"

The horse fell down with a wail, lying across the bridge, tripping another horse behind it, and a knight behind it flew off the bridge and into the water.

Before the knights could be surprised, the sound of gears turning and thunder, which would become the nightmare of countless knights in the future, began again.

A storm composed of hundreds of iron sand particles once again enveloped the bridge head. The clanging sound of iron sand hitting armor continued to ring out, splashing countless sparks.

The war horses began to wail. Even the extraordinary knights could not wear armor on both their horses.

As there was nowhere to hide on the bridge, seven or eight knights were knocked off their horses by the iron sand, and some even fell directly off their horses into the river.

"Ah, help me, help me!"

"Devil, it's the devil who blows the wind!"

Three or five knights fell from the bridge one after another, and higher white splashes appeared on the river surface again.

Then the refugees who were gradually retreating around them heard the knights' wails for the first time.

The remaining knights were still charging subconsciously, but the battle cries in their mouths had stopped.

They were a little confused. What was that just now? Was it a witch's spell? Could it be that these people were all witches or wizards?

“Don’t be afraid!” Frisiska screamed in pain, “Don’t be afraid. After they fire once, they need a long time to reload, just like a crossbow. Charge forward, charge forward.”

There was a hole in Frisiska's visor, and he could feel a fragment stuck in his cheekbone. The pain of torn muscles made his expression even more hideous.

"Saint Dupinsus!"

"careful!"

Horn's eyes blurred and he was pulled to the side of the road. Looking back, he saw that it was the old man from before.

Less than a yard away from him, more than twenty knights, with war cries, crashed into the first row of gun array like a heavy truck.

It was as if a strong wind was blowing through willow catkins. About four or five Holy Gunners were knocked away like broken dolls.

The five knights in the front were also pierced through the necks of their horses and fell down under the resistance of the spear formation.

But the knights quickly turned over and got up, drew the long swords at their waists, and slashed at the holy musketeers and long-gunmen in front of them.

The war horses pressed down on the front row of holy musketeers and spearmen. The thousand-pound weight made it impossible for them to get up. They could only watch as the knights drew their swords and chopped off their heads.

The horses' hooves trampled over the heads of the Holy Musketeers, and the following knights had already rushed over and crashed into the scattered soldiers of the old camp of the Salvation Army.

The old soldiers in the back row immediately raised their spears and charged at the knights. After this period of fighting, they no longer needed the ropes around their waists.

Roaring, the Black Hats ordered their soldiers to raise their spears, form a unified array, and charge towards the knights.

They were mortals after all, and the three-layer spear formation was no match for the knights. With the hooves of their horses, the knights simply rolled over the black-hatted soldiers.

"Help! It's a knight!"

"Master Knight, don't kill me, I am innocent."

"Run quickly, run quickly."

When the refugees and the old soldiers in black were knocked down by the knights one by one, the refugees finally became scared. They turned around and ran towards the back crying and shouting.

"Why are you running? Why are you running?" Colton covered the bandaged wound on his shoulder and yelled at the fleeing refugees.

But no one listened to him. At most, they glanced at him and ran away along the river.

Colton stood there in confusion. Wasn't he just shouting and killing the knight? How did it become like this?
Are the Cavaliers really that invincible?
Suddenly, Colton heard a childish cry.

"Papa, mother, wake up."

How could there be children's voices on this battlefield?

Looking in the direction of the sound, I saw a laborer's hut that had been knocked down, and a little girl was crying in front of two young corpses.

Not far from the little girl, a knight was rushing towards her at full speed.

"Wait!" Colton pushed the crowd away and ran towards the little girl who was crying in front of her parents' bodies, but he was still a step too late.

"It's noisy."

The long sword slashed across her back, leaving a bloody mark across her bone. The little girl fell heavily on the bodies of her parents.

"Beast!"

Colton shouted with bloodshot eyes at the knight who was rushing away quickly.

Looking at the refugees around him who were still running away despite slowing down their pace, he laughed angrily:
“Hahahahaha, run, run, escape from here!”

"When you die, tell the souls under the wine, the souls of your relatives and friends, that you are afraid and have fled. Go away."

The refugees paused for a moment. They looked back, at the black-clad soldier who was still fighting with the knight, and at the bodies of the mother and daughter on the ground.

"Don't you want to run? Where do you want to run to?" Colton's roaring voice invaded everyone's ears in the noisy battlefield.

"You guys run away, and wait until your descendants and generations of descendants turn into wine, and then see where they can run to."

Some refugees began to stop, as the street ahead of them seemed no longer to be dark.

They seemed to have seen, with their own eyes, the weeping of countless children in the Blue Blood Orphanage.

They seemed to see their parents and loved ones starving to death, and the knights and priests taking away their last bit of food.

Are we just going to run away like this? From here to there, from here to there, are we going to keep running away like this?

They can escape, of course they can escape, no one is stopping them, but why can't they move their feet?

But where can I escape to survive?

"I won't run away. I won't run away."

"I ran from Hotham to Upper River, and from Kasha to Longsand, and I tell you, I won't run this time - I won't run!"

After yelling at those who were fleeing, Colton ignored the wound on his shoulder and body, raised the spear in his hand, and stumbled towards a knight who had fallen off his horse.

Although he couldn't see the knight's face under his armor, he could clearly feel that the other party was sneering.

It was just like the knight's sneer when he knelt in front of the forest.

"Devil! Die!"

Colton roared and rushed forward, stabbing out with the spear in his hand.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying on the ground.

The severe pain did not spread until this time, and it was a wound from the ribs to the collarbone.

He could hear the clang of his spear hitting the ground. The blood loss and the severe pain in his chest attacked his brain, and he was unable to move his body at all.

On the ground next to his ears, Colton could hear the sound of knights' horses' hooves charging left and right, and the footsteps of refugees.

The sound was like a drum, becoming clearer and clearer.

Looking at the moonlit sky, Colton's previous confusion once again occupied his mind. Is it just like this?
It's so sudden, and the result is still a failure?
The moonlight in front of Colton's eyes became blurred, and deep sleep almost swallowed up his consciousness. Little Colton, Papa is coming to find you. Papa did not die in a cowardly way. Papa died to kill the knight. Papa...

...Who is pulling the spear in his hand?

Colton blinked hard, and behind the blurry tears he saw a teenager who was also crying bitterly.

He looked only fifteen or sixteen years old, his eyes were filled with tears, and he was shaking with fear, but he still rushed towards a knight with a spear in hand.

Then the blackened dagger in his hand was picked up by an old woman, whose eyes had been half blinded by crying. She shouted her daughter's name and stumbled towards the knight.

It wasn't just them. Since when, more and more refugees had been running against the flow of people and pounced on them one after another.

They trembled, roared with tears in their voices, used their bodies to block the knights' attacks, and fell to the ground one by one.

But there were still countless hands that picked up the weapons on the ground without hesitation, and the weapons were constantly passed on between the rough hands stained with mud and paint.

Flails, pitchforks, hoes and even bricks, the refugees roared in fear and threw all kinds of strange weapons at the knights.

They couldn't even have a weapon each.

"Go away, you lowly unclean one."

A knight used his sword to chop off the head of the refugee who was holding the horse's legs, but he was surprised to find that the headless body was still tightly locked on the horse's legs.

"You, you guys..."

Before he could finish, a bone-chilling feeling came from his waist.

A thin young boy was so scared that his face was covered with tears, but the dagger in his hand penetrated the knight's body through the gap in the armor.

He refused to let go, so the knight swung his sword and the boy's head fell to the ground.

"boom!"

The knight fell straight down from his horse, and before he died he saw the face of the young man whose head he had chopped off.

There was relief and satisfaction on that face from successful revenge.

Not only the refugees, but also the laborers on the rooftops stood up. They might not have the courage to face the knights directly, but they had their own way of resistance.

Pieces of stone hit the foreheads of the knights' helmets, and mud and feces flowed through the gaps in the helmets onto the knights' faces.

Unconsciously, the speed of these twenty knights had changed from charging to jogging, and some of them could not even run anymore.

Frisiska was shocked and angry, and cursed: "You lowly unclean ones, I am a knight of honor, you will go to hell for doing this..."

The answer he got was a loud bang from close at hand. Frisiska turned his head back and saw a knight being hooked by the scythe and dragged to the ground.

The knight immediately stood up, drew his sword, and tried to hold his ground on foot, but the black-clad soldiers facing him had already raised their clockwork guns.

The distance between them was less than ten yards.

After the gunshot, more than a dozen holes were made on the neck armor, and a stone bullet just pierced the knight's throat.

As the Holy Gunner held the clockwork rifle and looked for his next target, the Knight's throat was using his last breath to blow blood bubbles on the gap of his neck armor.

Only then did Frisiska realize that something was wrong. Unlike the other side of the river, there were too many refugees where they were.

The roofs were low, the ground was bumpy, and there were barricades and trenches on the road that had not been removed, so they couldn't increase their speed at all.

If it were just these, Frisiska would still have the confidence to fight his way out, after all, their pitchforks couldn't penetrate his armor at all.

But the problem is that those disgusting and scary black sticks can break their armor from a distance.

As the effect of the medicine gradually wore off, regret overtook Frisiska. He should not have crossed the river.

But just as he was distracted for a moment, Frisiska's eyes went dark, and a piece of mud was thrown from somewhere and stuck on his face, covering the seams on the mask.

"Who threw the mud?"

Before he could finish his words, the horse he was riding had its neck pierced by a pitchfork thrown by the refugees who were rushing over.

"Papa, mother, I will avenge you!"

"Damn bastard, son-ah-"

"Give me back my house! Give me back my home!"

In the narrow field of vision obscured by the mud, countless refugees roared like crazy and rushed towards Frisiska.

"Are you crazy?" Frisiska shouted in disbelief, slashing left and right with her sword, killing the refugees who rushed towards her like they were seeking their own death. "Are you possessed by the devil?"

Before his eyes were countless hands holding countless weapons. The common people who were once as cowardly as quails had become ferocious beyond belief, and the roars from their mouths were more terrifying than those of lions.

He hurriedly drove his horse forward, but it seemed as if he was in a quagmire and Frisiska could not move an inch.

He waved the long sword in his right hand frantically, and kept wiping the mud off his mask with his left hand.

Then he felt something cut the rope of his saddle, a huge force came from his waist, followed by a dizzying feeling of imbalance.

When his back hit the ground heavily, Frisiska realized that what he saw in front of him was the night sky dyed by moonlight and firelight.

The muzzle of the clockwork rifle was pressed against his forehead.

"Wait, I have a ransom..."

"boom--"

When Horn gathered his men and stood on the bridge again, there were less than ten knights left on this side of the river.

They were swallowed up by the waves of people, screaming in fear and waving their swords angrily and weakly.

"Be careful, Saviors, be careful." A laborer standing on the roof shouted to the refugees below, "The knights are coming again."

Seeing Horn standing there indifferently, the laborer simply ran out of his house, picked up the hammer and chisel he usually used for work, and rushed towards the knights with a roar.

The horrible sound of horse hooves came again.

It was visible to the naked eye that the iron chains of the long bridge began to tremble more violently, and two teams of knights totaling seventy people rushed towards this side.

If these new knights were allowed to rush in, not to mention breaking through the nearly 10,000 refugees, there would be no problem in bringing back the knights who were trapped in the formation.

Standing at the bridge head, Horn looked at the long bridge in front of him indifferently.

"Aren't you going to hide?" asked Pasrick, who had just rescued Horn.

Horn glanced at Pasrick. He had no idea where this old man came from and didn't dare to believe him.

But considering that he had saved so many people, Horn still replied: "No."

"why?"

"Guess where Jeanne went after fighting for so long?"

Pasrick was stunned at first. He thought for a few seconds, then suddenly looked at the pier of the long bridge: "What do you mean?"

The sound of hurried horse hooves was getting closer, and seventy knights who came to rescue Frisiska appeared in their sight.

The leading man had red eyes, and it seemed that he had just taken a potion. When he saw Horn and Pasrick chatting on the bridge as if they were chatting about family matters, the fury in his eyes suddenly became intense.

Facing the charging formation of seventy knights, what was the point of leaving only two people at the bridgehead?
"I'm going to kill the young man," the leading knight shouted, "and no one is allowed to snatch it from me."

Perhaps the thrill of the charge took over their brains, and the knights let out strange shouts loudly, but no one noticed the rattling sound of the iron chains rubbing against each other.

The horses were prancing, and the leading knight had already seen the face of the man at the bridge. He knew who this was, the legendary saint grandson.

A feeling of ecstasy instantly took over the knights' minds.

"Don't kill him, keep him alive, he's more valuable!"

Putting away his sword, the knight extended his iron gloves from a distance. The Khan potion made him confident that he could catch the skinny young man at that moment.

Closer and closer, finally ten yards away, the knights in the first row could clearly see the sarcastic smile on the young man and the old man’s faces...what was that?

Why was Horn getting farther and farther away no matter how the warhorse pawed its hooves?

Once the excitement from the drug wore off, he felt a strange sense of imbalance.

When? The smile on the knight's face froze.

It was only at this time that he realized that the horse's hooves were suspended in the air, and even the Khan potion could no longer help him keep his balance.

"how is this possible?"

The knights roared in disbelief.

The road bridge was thirty meters long from the shore to the bridge pier. The thick iron chain that might not be broken even if it was cut with a knife for a month actually broke.

It's broken?!
The bright white moonlight shone on the armor, reflecting the knight's desperate face. He watched Horn getting farther and farther away until everything in front of him was occupied by the water.

Huge splashes of water arose one after another, and amid roars and exclamations, seventy knights slid into the water from the long bridge one after another.

There were sudden cries of surprise from the other side of the river, and Jeanne slid down the iron chain to the long beach beside the river.

Lightning instantly flooded the river surface, and the knights' screams echoed in the night sky.

"Those who grow wheat eat chaff, and those who weave cloth have no clothes."

Humming softly, Horn didn't look at the knights struggling in the river. He drew the blood-covering cloud from his waist and walked towards the most dangerous crowd.

"While Eve and Adam were working on the fields, were the nobles sitting in the palace?"

The knights were shouting in despair, and countless torches were trembling in the roars of the refugees, but Horn's ears were extremely quiet and he could only hear his own voice.

"Take my wife, take my room, and kill my good parents!"

Horn's voice gradually became louder.

Four yards in front of him, a knight's horse's legs were caught by the cable, and the young knight flew off the horse and slid several meters on the ground.

Horn walked towards the knight, and behind him, on the stone bridge further away, villagers holding torches
"There are countless heads rolling..."

Countless hands held down the knight's body. His knees were broken by the clockwork gun, and he could only use his hands to push away the refugees who tried to peel off his armor.

"You, don't come over here." The knight cried out in a voice he had never heard before, and a foul odor was already seeping out from his crotch.

Fingers with gray nails pried open the mask of his helmet, and a young man who had never been seen before stepped on his chest and raised a sword that was glowing red.

Horn said the last sentence as if he was roaring.

"Blood debts must be paid with blood!"

The sword fell, and the spurting blood covered half of Horn's face. He raised his head, and there was no knight standing there.

The refugees around were all injured, but their eyes were as ferocious as night owls in hellfire.

Horn pointed the blood-covered cloud at the other side of the river.
"The demons are in the castle. Follow me, my fellow believers, and wipe out the demons—"

(End of this chapter)