When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 538: Battle of the Laper River (Part )
Standing on the mound, Delawan's drooping hands gradually clenched the corners of his clothes.

The ranks of the church army rushing down the hillside were not in neat order, but every ten or twenty steps a ball of light would fly up and land in the formation.

The land mercenaries, who were the most elite troops, walked at the end, and on both wings were the knights who provided the support.

Instead, those who walked in the front were the conscripted guards and armored sergeants.

Their faces were red and purple, their eyes were bloodshot, and the white steam they exhaled even had a hint of blood.

Of course, Delawan couldn't see these. All he saw was the abnormally fast speed of the charging guards.

Almost in the blink of an eye, he crossed a distance of three or four hundred meters and rushed towards the river beach with weapons in his hands.

The whistling sound was heard again, still from the clock bullets, but this time there were monks in the enemy's array, and they quickly used blessings to dispel the interference.

Only a dozen or twenty people with weak constitutions suffered nerve damage and fell to the ground on the spot.

"Delawan, are you looking at the market? Come and push the crossbow cart!" The old orderly roared in anger, bringing Delawan back to reality.

"coming."

The orderly soldiers pushed the crossbow cart with great effort, and under the command of the sweaty astrologer, they changed the direction little by little.

Flames began to gather on the staff, and a huge fireball gathered on the crossbow.

Due to the interference of cold air, the fireball was obviously smaller than in summer, but Delawan, who was carrying the crossbow on his shoulder, still had his hair on his forehead singed.

The battle cries of the church army came into his ears in the distance, and when he walked into the 120-meter line, the astrologer slammed the hammer down hard.

Dozens of flames streaked across the sky, thick smoke, rubble and mud splashed everywhere, and the flames engulfed hundreds of guards in the front row.

Amid the thick smoke, the firemen screamed and ran to both sides of the road, rolling in the snow, and then fainted in the snow due to respiratory failure.

Some of the guards in the back row had already started to flee, but they were all stabbed in the chest by the great swordsmen and land servants.

Count Ryanna said with a dark face: "Don't retreat, not even a single step. They can't fire continuously, so charge over now!"

Circling on both wings with hundreds of cavalry, Ryanna continued to kill the fleeing soldiers in the back row, but there were still three to five hundred people escaping one after another, and he couldn't stop them no matter what he did.

"Enemy infantry formation, spread out one step to the left and fire backwards!"

The division commanders' commands and whistles sounded at the same time, meaning that the enemy had entered the shooting range within one hundred meters.

When one-third of the church army entered the 100-meter line, the legion commanders waved their flags.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

The charging formation instantly developed jagged depressions, and blood spurted out from the holes in the armor.

The broken iron rings scattered all over the ground and couldn't even roll in the icy soil.

When the shield-bearing infantrymen lowered their heads, they could only see translucent holes on the sturdy leather and iron-studded round shields.

At the same time, a second wave of fireballs and clock bombs fell from the sky again and began to attack the army that was blocked behind by the front army.

The land mercenaries that Leonna had high hopes for did not perform well. Under a series of fireballs and lead bullets, they even slowly retreated.

Lead bullets, flames, the howling of the banshee, the whistling holy lance cavalry, the speeding lightning...

Under the heavy pressure, these infantrymen were on the verge of collapse within three minutes of reaching their positions.

Ryan knew that he was bound to lose this battle, but he didn't expect to lose so badly.

"Let's go and provide support."

This is a lie, Ryanna added in his mind, what he has to do now is not to support, but to perform.

He had already figured out that one hundred and fifty meters was the limit of the Devil's Wind.

As long as he charges beyond this limit, he can show his determination to fight to the death without taking any risks.

If this isn’t a genius tactician, then what is?
Ryanna proudly slowed down his horse's speed at a distance of 200 meters and prepared to turn around and escape.

"Om-"

What is this sound?
A ball of sparks exploded from Ryan's neck, which were sparks splashed out when the lead and the neck armor rubbed against each other.

The pain in his throat, like that of a gnawed insect, made him open his mouth, but he couldn't scream.

The two broken larynx bones and blood flowed out through the holes in the cervical armor.

"Ah—hiccup—"

Ryanna was shocked and angry, covering his neck with his gloved hands, but he was unable to stop the loss of life, and could only rely on the ninth stage of breathing to barely survive. Unfortunately, he lost consciousness and could not control the warhorse, and the warhorse carried him into the shooting range of the holy gun.

A soldier from the Church Army, who was holding his heart in agony and kneeling on the side of the road gasping for breath, suddenly stood up and shouted in hatred:
"The knight holding his neck is Count Lionna of Marley!"

Several church soldiers nearby also shouted: "The knight covering his neck is Leonna!"

At least dozens of holy guns were immediately aimed at the Earl. The Earl's personal knights didn't even have time to rescue him before they heard a series of crisp clinking sounds.

Seven or eight streams of blood spurted out from Count Ryanna's body, and he curled up in pain.

After glaring at the soldiers hatefully, Ryan gritted his teeth, freed one hand to grab the reins, and tried to escape.

But a dozen spiral-gun soldiers strode out of the forest and aimed their weapons at his head.

Fifteen lead bullets whizzed out, glancing over the saddle, scabbard, battle flag and emblem shield, and penetrated into Ryan's internal organs and limbs, knocking off his fingers and half of his ear.

Only one bullet penetrated the helmet accurately and pierced his head.

But that's enough.

The scattered brains and blood flowed down the helmet, and the Earl's stiff body sat on the horse's back and began to charge.

After being hit several more times, he fell off his horse.

This titled knight, who was personally very powerful, only launched one charge after his death, and then fell in the mud inexplicably.

With Count Ryanna being shot in the head by a spiral gun, this small-scale battle came to an end.

After the death of Count Ryan, most of the knights began to flee.

After the effect of the medicine wore off, the soldiers who had not yet died suddenly either fell to the ground in a coma and waited for emergency treatment, or ran for their lives and returned to the camp to get their belongings.

Behind the hill, there were pursuing rangers and fleeing church soldiers everywhere.

Some of the guards were even at a loss. Compared with the arduous battles of their predecessors, this battle was much easier.

However, when the Kush Rangers returned with the prisoners, they all burst into deafening cheers.

"Holy Father, we are victorious."

"May the Holy Lord's might be upon us, and may His Holy Grandson be forever healthy."

"We win! We win!" Standing on the mound, although far away, it did not prevent Delawan from raising his hands to celebrate together.

The old orderly touched the crossbow with a bitter face and replied perfunctorily: "Okay, got it..."

"We won, we won!" Although he didn't know how they won, it didn't stop Delawan from being excited.

"Don't let your guard down at any time on the battlefield." Pulling Delawan's collar, the old orderly said righteously, "Get ready, let's move the crossbow cart--"

A splash of hot blood hit Delawan's cheek.

He blinked and looked at the old orderly blankly, not even reacting yet.

There was a stray arrow stuck in the old orderly's forehead, and the tail of the arrow was even trembling slightly.

I don’t know which knight shot the arrow in despair before dying, but it actually flew such a long distance.

"Hey, old captain? Old captain!"

Delawan stepped forward and supported the collapsed old orderly, but when he lowered his head to ask, he only saw a pair of cloudy and lifeless eyes.

"Hey, hey! Old Captain..."

Holding the old orderly's identity card, Delawan found the military judge and pointed to the old orderly's body on the cart behind him with a complicated expression.

The medic and the military judge came forward to confirm, leaving him alone standing in the crowd.

The sun dyed the snow blood red, the war monks in the sunset shouted victory, and Delawan was both sad and happy.

Maybe this is what the old orderly said, for the commander, everything is certain, for those in war, everything is random.

Taking a deep breath, he took out a small notebook from his pocket and wrote down the last lesson the old orderly taught him -

The prudent never takes off his helmet.

Closing the notebook, he picked up a handful of snow and wiped it on his face, wiped away his tears, and ran towards the celebrating crowd.

"Victory! Win! We win!"

(End of this chapter)