Chapter 368: Battle of Black Mountain (XII)
Le Fei climbed up from the ground, shaking his head, his body swaying, and his eyes were blood red.

He had just been knocked away by the iron hoof of Nikossack and his head hit a large rock.

If it weren't for the protection of the helmet, my brain would have been all over the floor.

As the scene in front of him gradually became clear, the noisy sound like a tide once again penetrated Le Fei's ears.

The war monks around him were noisy, some were mechanically loading the holy guns, and some were holding spears and walking to chase Nikossack who was withdrawing from the battle formation and preparing to launch a second attack.

But more people stood there in a daze, or tried their best to save Barnaby whose throat was pierced - even though they knew he was doomed to die.

Everyone was shouting and running around like headless flies. Under the huge impact, Le Fei also fell into a state of confusion.

As a replica of Morris's horizontal formation, Galar's horizontal formation inherited its advantages as well as its disadvantages, the most typical of which is the overly weak flanks.

Whether for a single horizontal formation or for the whole, the overly thin depth and fragile musketeers on both wings made them extremely easy to be penetrated by cavalry's side charges.

Horn always chooses advantageous terrain to prevent the situation like today.

Without the protection of their teammates and the command of Barnaby as the legion leader, the Black Hat Sixth Legion fell into chaos.

"Oh!" Le Fay screamed, hunched over, and pulled the alchemical amulet he got from Mormont out of his collar.

When Mormont was making the alchemical amulet, Horn assigned Barnaby's Sixth Legion to help.

The general contractor Barnaby transferred the task to the subcontractor Le Fei, and Le Fei gathered the complaining hand cannon monks to help them.

As a reward, Mormont used the scraps to make an alchemical amulet for each of the people who helped Le Fay and others, which was said to enhance the power of spells.

However, considering that Le Fei and others don't know any magic, they are basically just decorations.

But just now, Le Fay felt a sharp burning sensation on the alchemical amulet.

When he held the amulet in his hand, he did not feel the previous feeling at all.

Although he didn't know why, the pain woke Mormont up. Between the heads, he clearly saw the Cossacks coming back.

The Cossacks were at the front and the back, with the squire knights in the middle, forced to act like a sandwich.

"Reform your formation, reform your formation." Lefebvre woke up from his daze and began to remind loudly, "The Cossacks are coming again."

"Who else is the commander at the level of division captain?" Amid the sound of crackling horse hooves, Jeshka did not send a messenger, but arrived in person.

"I'm still here." Seeing no one around to answer, Le Fei shouted loudly and walked out.

Although he is the commander of the hand cannon brigade, this position is too special and belongs to the division level.

Now that most people are still in confusion and chaos, Le Fay is the highest-ranking and most active among the sober people.

"Okay, I'll appoint you as the commander and be responsible for blocking them. As long as you can hold them off for two minutes, reinforcements will arrive."

"Yes, Lord Jeshka."

Receiving the order at a time of defeat, Le Fay had no time to get excited before he had to face Nidsal's charge.

Moving among the crowd, he constantly pushed or pulled the Holy Gunners and Pikemen back to their positions.

"It's too late!" Bernardo, his face covered in dust, squeezed out of the crowd and grabbed his wrist.

"What's too late?"

"I'll arrange the formation." Bernardo's handsome face had a bloodstain across his cheek. "Call all the hand cannon monks to delay time, otherwise we will just repeat the same fate."

"Ah, yes, yes." Le Fay immediately puffed up his chest and shouted in a voice that seemed to be able to shatter his internal organs, "Wake up, Barnaby is gone, the hand cannon monk is about to come to the front row."

"No, hand cannon monk, go to the second row, be careful of the javelins."

With the help of Bernardo and Le Fay, the originally chaotic formation was barely condensed into a loose formation again.

The hand cannon monks tried their best to place the hand cannons, which were as thick as their arms, on the erected crescent axes. These were the exclusive weapons issued to the hand cannon monks.

After all, the slender wooden gun frame cannot support the heavy hand cannon and its amazing recoil force.

The hand cannon monks had no time to raise their guns and aim, but Le Fei didn't care about that anymore because he heard the rumbling sound of horse hooves.

The cannon barrel extended from between the shoulders of the spearmen in front and aimed at the Cossack knights.

This clockwork hand cannon is very similar to the Cannedy Type I in appearance, but it is not evolved from the Cannedy Type I.

The origin of this clockwork hand cannon is actually the hand cannon made by Horn, which is equivalent to a smaller version of the leather cannon.

Horn had deliberately reduced the orichalcum content, but only a war-brother with three to four mana shots could fire one.

If the large rifle with rifling is used for precise bursts of fire, the goal is to kill key people.

Then the clockwork hand cannon is pursuing range and denial. Since it cannot hit the knight moving at high speed, it will move closer to use range damage, and the target is not people but horses.

According to the condition that "the man is extraordinary but the horse is not extraordinary", the knights were directly pulled off the horses and came to the ground to fight with the Savior Army's spearmen and holy musketeers.

But in terms of power, five clockwork hand cannons are not even as powerful as one of Horn's leather cannons.

Ten clockwork hand cannons were aimed at the rushing Nikossacks. Lefe narrowed his eyes. Nidsal, who inherited the desert nomads' fighting methods, had always only put thin iron cloth armor on his warhorse. This kind of cloth armor was quite successful in defending against stray arrows, but it was a bit unreasonable for the iron sand of the hand cannon.

Nedsal, who had the eyesight of an eagle, saw through Le Fay's plan at a glance.

"You really are looked down upon." He sneered coldly.

This new clockwork gun was used in the previous Battle of Moncruz. Do you think I, Nedsal, am the same as those Imperial Knights who don't read the battle reports?
Not only did he read the battle reports, he also condescended to find the night guards on the front line to ask questions.

After many rounds of inquiries, Nedsal already understood the limitations of the clockwork hand cannon - although this weapon was powerful, it could only fire one shot, and the maximum range was only twenty yards.

For the squire knights behind him, it was quite difficult to turn around at the maximum distance of twenty yards.

But for these well-trained Kossacks, it was not a difficult task.

Under the scorching sun, the Cossacks' silver armor gleamed brightly, like a golden torrent.

Just as Le Fay was about to shout "fire", the golden torrent suddenly changed direction.

The squire knights who were charging behind him rushed towards the ten hand cannons with horrified and desperate looks as if their brakes were broken.

"This is the blood slave of the Japanese goat." The plan was discovered, and Le Fei roared but could only order the launch.

After all, whether it is Nikossack or the squire knights rushing over, they will tear the defense line again, and by then they may not have a chance to use it.

"emission!"

A black shadow burst out from the muzzle, rushing like a whistling black fog.

The pungent smell of metal heating by friction spread quickly, mixing with the smell of grass and the dazzling sunlight.

The sound of the explosion was only heard belatedly at this moment, and the ten hand cannon monks were shocked and fell on their backs, requiring support from other monks behind them.

The iron sand hit the heavy armor, making a harsh metal collision sound.

The sunlight reflected off the broken armor plates, illuminating the frightened faces of the squire knights.

After a series of loud noises, the neighing of war horses mixed with the screams of the knights, forming a horrifying howl.

The warhorse's twisted muscles were pierced with dense blood holes by the flying black mist and iron sand.

It lost its basic balance and fell heavily to the dry ground, splashing layers of dust.

The knights were thrown to the ground by their beloved warhorses, or were crushed by them or rolled and bounced on the ground, their armor hitting the ground with a dull clanging sound.

Behind the rolling dust, the sound of horse hooves was still loud. Hundreds of javelins pierced through the smoke, and the white dust hung on the javelins like silk.

Thirty more of the war monks were knocked down or wounded by the javelins, while the holy musketeers were still loading and twisting the springs with distorted movements.

With the remaining Cossacks, Niedsal sat on horseback, watching the scene in front of him as if he were watching a beast fight.

The enemy's reinforcements have not arrived yet, and the last trump card has been used up. At least we can break through this horizontal formation that is supporting each other, and the other horizontal formation will only be defeated.

At the foot of the distant hillside, nearly five thousand night watch guards and armored soldiers, accompanied by peasant soldiers, rushed up.

"Win!" Nedsal raised his index finger high, pointing to the sky, with a smug smile on his face.

He couldn't think of any other word except win.

Turning his head with a smile, Niedsal picked up the water bottle from the saddle and gurgled the water into his dry throat.

"Bang! Boom!"

"Cough cough cough..."

Two streams of water spurted out of Nedsal's nostrils.

He pulled his horse hard and turned it towards the front of the horizontal formation. The Cossacks, who had been so brave, fell in the dust like the squire knights.

The holy musketeers who had finally finished reloading once again blew up the terrible holy wind, and the remaining hundred or so spearmen shouted in unison and rushed towards them.

Although the distance was far, Niedsal could still clearly see the confusion and fear on the Cossacks' faces.

This, how is this possible?

Nedsal stood up from the horse and accidentally broke the kettle in his hand.

Didn't we agree that there would only be one shot?

Damn it, Niedsal slapped his head, it was a trick of the demon Horn, and he fell into the trap.

This thick-barreled clockwork gun is clearly just like the thin-barreled one, and can fire a lot of rounds!

"Are we still going to continue the attack?" The adjutant turned his head and looked at Nedsal's troubled face.

"........."

Will there be a third shot? Niedsal frowned.

(End of this chapter)