Chapter 308: Night in the Cave Forest
The crescent moon was like a hook, and the dense moonlight penetrated through the dense forest of the cave, peeking at the small village nestled in the dense forest.

Tata Village is different from other ordinary villages. It is located on the outskirts of the dense forest of caves, with towering red pines and low houses scattered around.

The gray-green steep roofs blend in with the red pines. Unless you turn on the lights at night, you can't really see the shape of Tata Village.

Unlike the peaceful villages of the past, today's Tata Village is brightly lit.

Amid the cluster of torches and oil lamps, donkey carts and horse carriages, carried by the crowd, moved slowly forward.

With every step the cart drivers, those carrying lambs, boxes on their backs, silk carriers, and sacks took, a few shining silver coins rolled out from between the packages and disappeared into the grass and bushes.

Behind them in Tata Village, there was a faint stench of blood and corpses.

"You killed the remaining people?" Grush's eyes widened. "Why? They helped us before, and you..."

"Kill them if you want." While feeding the horses with hay, DeFord said nonchalantly, "Don't I know what they are thinking?

If I hadn't decisively killed that Salvation Army monk, they would have called the Black Dog to kill us."

"How can you be so arbitrary?" Grush walked around to Deford and said, "They help us grow crops and sell goods. Even if they don't have any credit, they have worked hard..."

"It's not like I didn't give them a chance!" DeFord Bigrush was fed up with his questioning and threw the hay in his hand heavily into the sink.

"I asked them - do you want to go with me, or do you want to stay? They chose to stay... so don't blame me!"

Grush fell silent for a moment. Looking at the fat man in front of him, he was actually a little dazed.

When he was captured by slave traders at the age of seven, DeFord was still an honest, simple and cheerful young man who often took them hunting.

When he escaped back at the age of seventeen, he couldn't even recognize who the man with the fat face was at first glance.

He still couldn't understand how the honest and simple-minded Brother Deford became what he is now.

"Grush, I know you have feelings for them, but they are people from outside the forest. Only us old brothers in the cave can be trusted."

"I've been outside for ten years and I'm no longer a member of the woods..." Grush said woodenly as he looked at his neighbor and friend lying in a pool of blood.

When their fathers escaped from the dark caves, it was these people in the forest who accepted them.

But now, those people who lived in the forest have either become their slaves, cattle and horses, or have become robbers and bandits like them.

"If you want to blame someone, just blame the Savior Army. If it weren't for them, why would we run away?" DeFord pulled the reins and led the warhorse out of the stable.

These bandits had no choice but to escape as their outer outposts were either taken down by the Cheka or the Black Caps.

If they don't leave now, the Black Hat Army will stand in their faces.

There were eight sentry posts, eight in total, and only two people escaped.

Thinking of the mysterious flute, Deford couldn't help but reveal a look of fear on his face.

Taking a deep breath and putting aside all the distracting thoughts in his mind, Grush asked coldly, "What should we do next?"

"I've sent people to Jinhe Township to ask for help. The Ibe Knights in the south will definitely be willing to help." Deford gritted his teeth and said, "Since we've already fallen out, let's have some fun with them.

Blackska went out to plunder by a side road, harassing them without robbing them, and making them run for their lives.

We will fight with them in the dense forests and caves. If they have the ability, they can go into the caves like us.

They don’t have much food left. Even if we can’t kill them, we can at least exhaust them to death.

Damn it, I just escaped from the cave twenty years ago, and now I have to escape back again."

Deford looked back at the bright moonlight and said, "Just wait, I will be back sooner or later!"

…………

"Captain, what's in that carriage covered with black cloth? I move as slowly as a snail with it."

"You pull it when I tell you to. I asked His Majesty and he said it was a magical tool that I would use in the future."

After sending away the division captain who came to ask questions, Jourdan raised his head and looked at the Black Hat Legion marching on the El Ancient Road.

According to the marching formation prescribed in the "War Monk's Codex - Officers", they advanced in five columns.

There were two Holy Gunners in the front, two Holy Gunners in the back, and six Lance Divisions in the middle.

After the Battle of Jeanne d'Arc, due to the significant increase in the number of Saints, the ratio of Holy musketeers to Pikemen increased from the original 1:4 to an astonishing 2:3.

According to calculations by Horn, Jeshka and others, this ratio will continue for a long time before the bayonet is put into service.

On both sides of the winding ancient road, apart from sparse bushes, there are rolling hills like waves. The relative height of these hills is no more than 100 meters, and bare rocky mountain walls can be seen from time to time.

Between the rocky cliffs covered with mosses and lichens, the rest of the hills are filled with lush green pines, chestnuts and poplars.

Looking at the gloomy sky, Jourdain took out his pocket watch and the hands pointed to half past four.

This kind of fine mechanical pocket watch can only be produced by the lathe in the Mechanical Palace of Qiumu Island.

So far, there are only more than twenty of them, all of which have been distributed to officers and bishops at all levels.

"Okay, we're only a few hundred steps away from the campsite, come on." Jourdan shouted to the war monks behind him.

"An hour ago you said there were only a few hundred steps left..."

These war monks muttered to themselves, but still quickened their pace, trying to set up camp before it got completely dark.

They walked for another half an hour before they finally stopped, but they had not actually reached the camping site yet.

"What's going on?" Standing up from the horse, Jourdan looked ahead.

Jourdan was waiting for the arrival of the head of the Momri Legion, only to find out that their way was blocked by huge trees and large rocks.

"Was it those bandits who set it free?" Jourdan asked Momri.

Momri blinked and said, "They must have put it there. It will take a lot of effort to remove it."

"Why don't we set up camp here first and move away when the light is better tomorrow. Otherwise, our formation will be disrupted and we will have to fight at night, which will be disadvantageous to us." Jourdan advised.

"I sent people to search the area, but found no trace of the bandits. They must have fled long ago." Murat, the leader of the Norse Knights, rode over on horseback at this time.

"We've been walking all day, let's take a rest first."

The three chief officers reached an agreement, and the war monks began to erect tents on the spot and began to cut down the bushes and groves around.

In the swaying night breeze of the evening, tents and wisps of smoke rose in the clearings in the forest.

The scouts took their dry food and canvas sleeping bags, scattered, and set up secret sentries around the camp.

The orderly in the canteen stirred the big pot and handed the sticky rice porridge and salted fish to the war monks who came to get their meals.

The Black Hats worked in divisions, that is, groups of fifty people, to cook.

According to the current menu set by Horn himself, each war monk eats 3 pounds of staple food, 3 ounces of meat, and 1 ounce of vegetables every day.

During training, the meat and vegetables were stewed meat and cabbage soup, but if they were fighting outside, the meat and vegetables became salted fish and pickles.

But this standard of living of eating meat every day is enough to make the villagers so greedy that they keep wandering around at home.

"Uuuuuu——"

Just as Jourdan picked up the rice porridge, a sharp horn sounded under the dark gray night clouds.

The war monks stopped eating, stood up and looked in that direction.

After pouring the rice porridge back into the pot, Jourdan threw away the wooden bowl, drew the armed sword from his waist, and ran towards the higher ground area in the camp.

Picking up the telescope, in a field of vision shrouded in shadows, Jourdan saw a scout standing on the hillside.

He blew the horn and waved the torch anxiously in this direction.

The swaying torches illuminated the leaping horses, and the neighing, war roars and trumpet sounds merged into one.

The fat man on horseback roared, and using the speed of his horse, he swung the scimitar in his hand towards the scout's neck like a phantom.

The sharp knife flashed past slickly, a head flew up, and bright red blood spurted out from the bloody neck.

The headless body of the scout rolled down the hillside and charged forward along with the fat man.

Following the fat man, hundreds of bandits on horseback let out strange howls, crossed the hillside and corpses, and rushed straight towards the camp.

"Why are you blowing the horn only when we are so close? What are the scouts on the periphery doing?!"

Jourdain was a good-tempered man, but he couldn't help cursing when he saw this scene.

"Quick, assemble!"

(End of this chapter)