HCB Chapter 647 Great Retreat
Chapter 647 Great Retreat
Dester rode his horse along the mountain path, while the Yoda army behind him maintained a rhythm of alternating cover, with soldiers turning back to fire as they slowly moved toward the outskirts of the mountains.
The shouts of battle followed the ranks of soldiers, and arrows occasionally grazed the armor of the soldiers, embedding themselves in the rocks or tree trunks by the roadside with dull thuds.
Every time they advanced a certain distance, soldiers were hit by arrows or cut down by pursuers. The remaining soldiers had no time to help them and could only continue to retreat, stepping over the bloodstains of their comrades.
Just as the retreating column rounded a steep bend in the mountain, a group of figures suddenly rushed out from the front.
Their armor was shattered, some had lost their weapons, and some had their clothes torn, revealing their wounds. They were the routed soldiers who had fled from the direction of the castle.
These routed soldiers, their faces etched with pure terror, charged madly toward Dester's troops, nearly disrupting their retreating formation.
Dester immediately stopped and reached out to stop the fleeing soldier at the front.
The fleeing soldier bumped into his arm, staggered to his feet, looked up and saw that it was Dester. His lips trembled, and he couldn't speak.
Why did you retreat?
Dester's voice was low and urgent, his gaze fixed intently on the other person.
The routed soldier, leaning on his knees and panting heavily, his chest heaving, managed to squeeze out a coherent sentence after a long while:
"My lord, something terrible has happened... The Midlanders have broken out of the inner fortress."
Another fleeing soldier approached, his face still stained with dried blood, his eyes filled with lingering fear:
“There’s a guy with two swords, no one can beat him. He killed many of our brothers, and we couldn’t hold him back, so we had to retreat.”
More fleeing soldiers gathered around, their words scattered but all pointing to the same thing: the ferocity of the two-handed swordsman.
Some say he can cleave a shield in two with a single sword strike; others say he is tireless, always charging ahead, and anyone who gets in his way doesn't survive a single blow.
As Dester listened to these descriptions, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. His gaze turned toward the castle, where the sounds of fighting had subsided, but the stench of blood in the air carried further away on the wind.
Dester felt a strong sense of awe; this Midland mercenary group was nothing like the mercenary groups he knew before.
Most of those ordinary mercenary groups are temporarily assembled, with varying combat strength, and they will collapse when they encounter the slightest resistance.
However, this mercenary group fought bravely and cooperated seamlessly, and their elite status even rivaled that of Blackwatch.
The situation was urgent; the pursuers were closing in, and if they didn't deploy quickly, the entire force could be surrounded.
Without further hesitation, Dester turned to look at the two centurions beside him.
"you."
Dester pointed to the centurion on the left.
"Take the team to the settlement ahead and burn everything."
Dester then looked at the centurion on his right.
"Leave the troops behind to hold them off, don't let the Midlanders advance too quickly."
"You will take turns providing cover until you are evacuated from the mountains."
"Yes!"
The two centurions said no more and immediately turned around to relay the orders.
The team heading to the settlement quickly gathered their equipment and moved rapidly toward the valley ahead, their hurried steps kicking up clouds of dust.
The troops left to hold off the enemy quickly dispersed, seizing the high ground on both sides of the road. Archers swiftly nocked their bows and aimed at the approaching enemy, while the infantry gripped their weapons and formed a simple defensive formation in the middle of the road.
Before long, the sound of heavy footsteps and shouts of battle came from the end of the mountain path.
"Come on!"
"Kill all these Yodas!"
The mountain militia chasing Yoda's army surged forward in a dark mass. These militiamen had no tactical awareness whatsoever; they were only focused on charging forward, their eyes fixed on Yoda's army, and their only thought was revenge.
"Fire arrows!"
The centurion in charge of the ambush gave the order.
The archers, who were already prepared, immediately released their bows, and a dense barrage of arrows rained down on the militiamen charging at the front.
Screams rang out one after another, and the militiamen at the forefront fell to the ground. Those behind them could not stop in time and crashed directly into the corpses, causing the formation to fall into chaos instantly.
Arrows rained down, completely halting the militia's offensive. Although the militia outnumbered the main force, their lack of organization meant that every attempt to charge was met with a barrage of arrows, preventing them from advancing an inch.
Meanwhile, the vanguard had arrived at the settlement, and Yoda's soldiers, torches in hand, charged into the village without hesitation.
They brought the torches close to the wood of the houses and the dry grass on the roof, while the others searched house to house, dragging out everything usable, such as furniture, food, and clothing, and throwing it into the fire, making sure nothing of value was left behind.
The flames burned ever brighter, and thick smoke billowed into the sky, clearly visible even from a distance.
The crackling sound of burning filled the village, and occasionally a few mournful cries of the livestock that had not been taken away were quickly swallowed by the flames and silenced completely.
Inside the castle, the smoke of gunpowder had not completely dissipated, and the air was filled with a strong smell of blood and burnt residue.
Griffith rode his warhorse, leading his troops through the broken city gates, and returned to the castle.
As soon as he dismounted, he strode quickly toward the inner fortress, his steps hurried and his face showing a hint of barely perceptible worry.
The open space in front of the inner fortress was piled high with corpses, some of them Yoda's soldiers, others of the mountain militia.
Dark red blood filled the gaps between the corpses, slowly flowing down the cracks in the stone pavement and forming small puddles on the ground.
Guts lay in the middle of the pile of corpses, his body curled up, his hands still tightly gripping the two-handed sword, the blade stained with dark red blood and with several obvious nicks.
He was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently. His vision was blurred, and he could only vaguely see the figures moving in front of him. The sounds of fighting around him were gradually fading away, leaving only his own heavy breathing.
Griffiths strode quickly through the pile of corpses, carefully avoiding the bodies and bloodstains on the ground, and came to Guts' side.
He bent down, reached out, and pulled Gus from the pile of cold corpses.
Guts' body was heavy, covered in blood and dust, and his consciousness was still in a state of confusion.
"Guss, Guss?"
Griffith's call reached Guts' ears clearly. Guts's hazy eyes slowly turned, struggling to focus, and after a long while, he finally saw Griffith clearly in front of him.
"Yoda's army was driven away?"
"Yes, thank you for your hard work, Gus."
After Griffith finished speaking, he immediately turned to the two soldiers behind him and gestured.
Two soldiers immediately stepped forward, carefully lifted Guts' body, trying to avoid touching his wounds, and hurried toward the doctor's quarters inside the castle.
Gus leaned on the soldier's arm, closed his eyes again, and exhaustion overwhelmed him completely. He soon lost consciousness.
Just then, a militiaman rushed in from outside.
His armor was covered in dust and blood, and his face showed anxiety. He ran up to Griffith and stopped, panting heavily.
"The militia responsible for the pursuit encountered resistance from the Yodas and suffered heavy losses."
The militiaman's voice was choked with sobs, and his eyes were filled with fear.
“Those damned Yodas burned down our settlement.”
Griffiths frowned slightly, looking towards the settlement, where thick smoke was clearly visible even from inside the castle.
He thought for a moment and made a decision immediately.
"Stop pursuing Yoda's army."
“Leave a few teams to conduct reconnaissance, and the main force of the militia will all withdraw to the castle to rest.”
"understand!"
Griffith stood still, gazing at the thick smoke rising from the direction of the settlement, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
He knew that although Yoda's army had temporarily retreated, it had not been completely wiped out, and the conflict was far from over.
The soldiers and militia inside the castle were exhausted after a day of fighting and desperately needed to rest and replenish their strength. The battles to come would only be more difficult, so they had to be fully prepared.
Meanwhile, at Yoda's distant headquarters, in the central main tent, Aten sat at a simple wooden table, holding a military intelligence report and reading it carefully.
A series of hurried footsteps came from outside the tent, and a messenger quickly entered, kneeling on one knee and holding a letter in his hands. It was the letter from Dester requesting help.
Adon put down the report in his hand, took the letter, and slowly unfolded it.
His gaze swept over the contents of the letter, and the expression on his face gradually changed from calm to solemn, and then a hint of disdain appeared.
The messenger kept his head down, not daring to look Adon in the eye, and could only hear the sound of the wind outside; the atmosphere was extremely oppressive.
After reading the letter, Aton threw it on the table with a soft "thud".
A mocking smile curled at the corner of his lips as he pondered to himself.
The military advisors of the Kingdom of Heldran are nothing special; they've only been at war for a few days and they're already in need of reinforcements.
When he first came, he spoke with great confidence, claiming that he could easily defeat the Midland mercenary group with his own tactics. But now that the mercenary group has actually come down the mountain, he is helpless and can only ask me for help. It's really laughable.
Adon was silent for a moment, then raised his head and looked at the messenger:
“Go back and tell Dester.”
The messenger immediately raised his head, his eyes focused as he awaited further instructions.
"The war is urgent now, and the headquarters does not have enough troops to send to him."
Adon's voice was completely flat, as if he were talking about something insignificant.
"Make sure he holds the camp. If he holds the camp, we'll have a plan later."
The messenger looked troubled, wanting to try again for Dest, but seeing Adon's indifferent expression, he swallowed his words. He bowed to Adon:
"Yes, I will go back and relay the order immediately."