Chapter 372 Battle of Black Mountain (End)

what is that?
This is not just Niedsal's doubt, but the doubt of all the Niedsal Cossacks.

But soon, their doubts disappeared along with their lives.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

The command that had been shouted countless times came out of Horn's mouth this time. With pale cheeks, he pulled the clockwork key out of the leather gear cannon.

The gears rotated at high speed on the gear shaft, and the metal and airflow vibrated at the same time, making a low humming sound.

But the next second, everyone's ears became quiet, and the huge noise seemed to cover up all other sounds.

The 80mm leather gear cannon let out a deafening roar, and two balls of exploding iron sand and lead bullets were the first to scatter, followed by the iron sand sprayed by twenty hand cannon monks.

The two formed a black fog that rushed forward rapidly, and before the Cossacks who were charging could react, they felt that the originally clear weather suddenly dimmed for a moment.

Then I felt a warm feeling in my chest, and my whole body flew up uncontrollably until I fell to the ground. After rolling several times, the piercing pain was transmitted to my brain through the nerves.

Dozens of knights in the front row fell down at the same moment, their bodies covered with dense holes.

Broken limbs and fingers, flying blood, shoulder blades wrapped in flesh and blood, and even half of the face were all splattered in the air.

In the storm of lead and iron sand, the Cossacks, who were still shouting and calling for killing, stopped all actions.

Blood splattered on their faces and a dripping sound could be heard from their helmets; it was the blood raining down from their companions.

Even the Cossacks, who were always known for their bravery and civilization, couldn't hold back. This wave killed forty or fifty people, and they even had monks with hand cannons. It was a waste of time.

Groups of Nikossacks began to flee in circles without Niedsal's orders.

Some ran to the left, some ran to the right, and the entire Nidsar phalanx was like a boiling kettle, bubbling.

Amid the noisy shouts, Monset's "Second Guards Army, move forward quickly!" was so clear.

At the back of the queue, ten large muskets slowly emerged. Whenever a Nicossack tried to integrate the other Nicossack knights, he would immediately be fired upon by the large muskets.

Within a range of one hundred meters, the power and accuracy of the musket were terrifyingly high, and from time to time a Kossack who protruded too far would be shot through the chest.

Surrounded by the chaos, although Nedsal tried hard to reorganize the army, he was unable to stop the chaos, and only a small group of twenty or thirty people gathered around him.

Looking at those terrified black-skinned knights, Nidsal even doubted whether he was dreaming. He had never thought that these elite knights would have a camp roar.

"Gather, gather." No matter how loudly he shouted or what conditions he offered, he could not stop the chaos.

To make matters worse, just when they were in chaos, the Holy Gun Cavalry led by Jeanne arrived at the right time and added a load-bearing beam to the camel that was about to be crushed to death.

Is this really the end for him? An unprecedented despair appeared in Nedsal's eyes.

He took out a bottle of potion from his pocket, and the purple-black viscous liquid made his face change slightly.

Unlike most knights, Nidsal rarely uses potions on the battlefield.

He only had two bottles of potions with him, one of which was a spider potion that enhanced reaction speed, which he had just drunk.

It was just that he had never thought of using the second bottle, the most crucial life-saving potion, here.

If he used it, he would probably never have a place to stay in the empire, and he would have to return to his hometown.

As Nedsal hesitated, a burst of increasingly clear shouts and cries of killing rang in his ears.

Not far away, on the side of the Guards, Zerakon, who was originally in the center army, rushed over with thousands of the last guards.

Great! Nidsal wanted to kiss Zerlaken's cheek madly right now.

"Let's go and meet up with Zerakken!" Niedsal's actions quickly attracted Jeanna's attention. She ordered Coleb to take command of the situation, and Jeanna led dozens of Holy Gun Cavalrymen and rushed towards Niedsal and others.

"Damn it, damn it, hurry up, hurry up!" Nidsal didn't care about the horse's power and drove the horse forward frantically.

Bullets fired from the musket flew past him, and Nedsal felt a warm pain in his ribs and shoulders.

He wasn't sure whether it was pierced or just a minor injury; he couldn't tell the difference any more.

Blood flowed from his gums, and the most loyal Cossack tribe warriors around him fell one after another, while the central army infantry supporting them in the distance became clearer and clearer.

Last chance!
The strong wind blew through his collar and sleeves. Nidsal held his head high and rushed forward at full speed, as long as he could reach that place...

"boom--"

The flames in the sky illuminated Nedsal's face, and four blazing fireballs exploded in the infantry phalanx.

The blazing flames enveloped the infantrymen, and arrows fell from their sides and rear as if for free.

Amid the crackling sound of burning flames, the left wing army led by Hakuto marched in neat steps and appeared on the flank of the army led by Zelaken.

Nedsal's running speed slowed down, he straightened his crouching body, and no longer cared about the possible stray bullets and the terrifying large rifle.

On the left, look at the advancing Salvation Army; on the right, look at the scattered infantry phalanx; in the distance, Domenico, the Knight of Kush and other knights are desperately fleeing in the wheat field.

Nedsal's soul seemed to be pulled away from his body, and he himself didn't know how to win.

He led an army of tens of thousands, yet he lost.

He shouldn't have risked his life to attack from the waterhole, shouldn't have promised to lead the nobles north, shouldn't have gotten involved in this damn war...

But no matter how much Nedsal regretted, time could not be reversed.

It was visibly apparent to the naked eye that within a few seconds, Nedsal seemed to have aged several years. He sat on the horse in a daze, like an old man about to die.

But as if he remembered something, he suddenly lowered his head and took out a bottle of medicine from his arms.

The medicine in the solid crystal bottle had been in his arms for who knows how many years, and even the cork had become old and moldy.

The time has come. Nidsal seemed to have made up his mind. He gritted his teeth and drank the sticky blood.

The other Nikossacks around him looked at him nervously, as this bottle of potion was the secret weapon of this terrible knight.

According to Nedsal's habit of always leaving himself a way out, perhaps, maybe he could still lead them to fight their way out like before.

After drinking the potion, Nedsal's eyes quickly became bloodshot and his muscles swelled up like balloons.

Blue veins emerged on his arms and cheeks, and his terrifying aura caused the pursuing Holy Gun Cavalry to subconsciously slow down their pace.

"what--"

But to everyone's surprise, after expanding, Nedsal's body suddenly shrank like a punctured ball at a speed even faster than before.

Under the dull gazes of the other Cossacks, black blood flowed from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.

"what--"

With a scream, Nedsal slipped off the horse and fell heavily to the ground.

As everyone stared in silence and confusion, his calf muscles twitched, and then he lost all sound.

(End of this chapter)