I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Monoculars.

Cavalry Captain Salgwinley reached out to his personal guard beside him, speaking in a flat tone, as if he were merely asking for a glass of water.

"Yes, sir."

The guard respectfully took a brass telescope from the leather pouch beside the saddle and presented it with both hands.

Salgwinley took the monocular, held it up to his eyes, and adjusted the focus.

In the footage, the outline of Baiguoyuan Village gradually becomes clear.

Thatched huts lined both sides of the dirt road, and crowds huddled together, with Temurian soldiers nervously guarding behind roadblocks.

Salgwinli silently counted the number of people.

Seventeen.

No, eighteen.

There was another one hiding behind a roadblock, with only half its head showing.

Is that all the people?

Salgwinley's lips curled up, revealing a hint of disdain.

The Temurians were indeed at their last gasp.

The garrison couldn't even muster twenty men.

Sure enough, no matter how capable Marshal Natalis was, the famous general of Temuria, he couldn't conjure troops out of thin air.

He put away his binoculars and turned to look at the cavalrymen lined up neatly behind him.

They sat silently on horseback, their black cloaks fluttering gently in the wind, their indifferent gazes fixed on the distant bridgehead.

"Team One".

Salgwinli spoke, and his voice clearly reached everyone's ears.

"exist!"

In the ranks, a cavalry captain spurred his horse forward and saluted by punching his chest with one fist.

"Go around to the north and drive those rats out of their burrows."

"Yes, sir!"

The cavalry captain turned his horse around and raised his right arm.

"Team One, follow me!"

About twenty cavalrymen broke away from the ranks and, led by their captain, left the road on the east side and circled north along the riverbank, attempting to enter the village from the side of Baiguoyuan.

The sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance along the riverbank, kicking up a cloud of dust.

……

The shouts coming from the north side quickly drowned out the chaos at the bridgehead.

"North! Cavalry have also circled around to the north!"

Temuria's sergeant turned around abruptly.

The White Orchard has more than just the Bridge of Lamentation as its entrance.

If the Nilfgaardians were to circle around from the back of the village, the barricade at the bridgehead would become a joke, and the civilians who sought refuge in the village would be trapped in the middle.

But he only had seventeen soldiers left.

If we send men to the north, we can't hold the front; if we don't send men, the Nilfgaardians can outflank us directly from a shallow area on the north bank of the river near the White Orchard.

The vein on the sergeant's forehead throbbed, and finally he roared in a hoarse voice:

"You lot, head north! Quickly!"

The soldiers whose names were called changed their expressions, grabbed their spears, and ran towards the north side of the village.

The sergeant turned and roared at the crowd:

"Everyone retreat to the village! Don't block the bridge! Get inside quickly!"

The cries and footsteps immediately turned into chaos.

After those soldiers left, only ten soldiers remained behind the roadblock at the bridgehead.

With just this few people, how could they possibly hold off so many Nilfgaardian soldiers?

Zig also looked towards the north bank of the river.

North of Baiguoyuan, there are two more gaps in the river where one can cross – a shallow beach closer to the river and a wooden bridge a little further away.

Once the Nilfgaardian cavalry outflank the village from there, everyone here will be doomed.

"Sakia, the north is yours now."

Zig took out four North Wind bombs from his pouch, giving two to Zoltan and two to Sakia.

"Don't let them into the village."

Sakia took the sword and put it away, then gripped the hilt of the greatsword behind her with her other hand.

"I see."

Without saying anything more, she turned and walked through the retreating crowd towards the north bank of the river.

……

From afar, Salgwinley saw that several Temerian soldiers had been removed from behind the roadblock at the bridgehead, instantly creating a gap in their already thin defensive line.

"Second team, advance!"

He put down the monoculars.

More than fifty Nilfgaardian soldiers dismounted and approached the Bridge of Lamentation, shields raised.

The three Temerian archers on the river watchtower were the first to fire their arrows.

The arrows crossed the bridgehead and pierced the black-clad soldiers at the front, but struck their shields one after another, making several muffled thuds.

The archers at the rear of the Nilfgaardian army raised their crossbows and fired a volley at the watchtower.

A barrage of arrows rained down on the wooden watchtower, sending debris flying everywhere.

The three Temerian archers were pinned down and could only retreat behind the railing.

After losing the suppression of the watchtowers, more than a dozen Nilfgaardian soldiers rushed out from behind the shield wall.

They carried axes and rope hooks and ran towards the roadblock at the bridgehead.

The heavy battle axe cleaved fiercely into the thick wood.

Several ropes with iron hooks swung through the air, passing over the front of the chevaux-de-frise and gripping the crossbeam tightly.

"pull!"

More than a dozen soldiers in black retreated simultaneously, the ropes taut and the barricades jolted violently as they were dragged along.

The Temurian soldiers behind the roadblock did not sit idly by and wait to die.

"Hold the breach! Don't let them break it open!" the Temurian sergeant roared.

Several spearmen immediately thrust their spears out from the gaps in the barricades, targeting the black-clad soldiers who were close to the crossbeams and were chopping at the wooden wedges with axes.

The spear tips pierced the shoulders, arms, and necks that the shields couldn't cover, causing the first few men to scream and retreat.

Two other soldiers rushed behind the barricades; one raised his shield to block the incoming arrows, while the other drew his longsword and desperately tried to cut the ropes tangled in the crossbeams.

Others grabbed the crossbeams behind the barricades and gritted their teeth, dragging them toward the bridge; the spearmen next to them stuck their spear shafts between the wooden frames, managing to hold the thick logs that were being pulled by ropes in place.

The wood groaned shrilly as the two sides pulled at it, and the temporary defensive line at the bridgehead teetered on the brink of collapse, yet the Nilfgaardians were never able to forcibly pull it apart.

Sieg leaped onto the thatched hut closest to the Bridge of Lamentations.

The thatch sank gently into the soles of his boots. He lowered his body, crouched behind the roof ridge, and took out a "Sequence: Maripo Forest" from his waist pouch.

With a push of the thumb, the cork popped open.

He tilted his head back and poured the medicine down his throat.

The bitter and spicy sensation burned down my throat and into my chest, while the mixed scent of herbs and resin assaulted my nostrils.

My heart suddenly started racing.

The surroundings didn't actually slow down, but under the influence of the medicine, the chaos at the bridgehead became much clearer in his eyes.

The shouts of battle, the dull thud of axes splitting thick wood, the sound of spears piercing flesh, and the friction of taut ropes all became clearer.

Zieg exhaled a breath of stale air and took down the yew wood longbow.

As the arrow was nocked, he had already locked onto the Nilfgaard captain in the crowd who was waving and urging his soldiers to advance.

Om-!

With a sharp whistling sound, the long arrow shot out through the air.

The arrow pierced the man's Adam's apple with pinpoint accuracy, drawing out a large cloud of scarlet blood from the back of his neck.

The captain didn't even have time to scream before he collapsed to the ground like a heavy rag.

Before the surrounding Nilfgaardian soldiers could react, Death's scythe swung down again.

call out!call out!

Two short, sharp twangs almost simultaneously, and two more soldiers in black, who were pulling on the ropes, fell backward.

The tension on the barricade suddenly eased.

The remaining black-clad soldiers finally realized the sharpshooter's location and looked up in horror toward the back of the Bridge of Lament.