Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

"Did you pick up his ID card?"

"No, these guys don't use ID tags, but I got his helmet back; it's a pretty brass helmet."

The Kurist light cavalryman, dressed in red uniforms, cheerfully raised the head in one hand and reached into the saddlebag beside him with the other, pulling out a brass helmet. The top of the helmet was covered with a light blue turban, and the edge was adorned with chainmail. The top protrusion had a cross-shaped pattern, making it look quite beautiful.

The military officer in front of him looked up, then nodded.

"Well done, I'll make a note of it here... First rank of cavalry squad leader... Alright, just put your head here, no, over there! Right, a little over there... together with that bunch of heads, someone will clean it up later."

"Oh, and what about your reward? Are you planning to collect it now or wait until the war is over?"

"Let's collect them all after we finish playing. I've saved up quite a bit already, so there's no rush to withdraw them. I can't spend them anyway."

Tuo Moyi walked out of the tent with a smile, carefully wiping the blood off his hands on the pillar by the door, as if he had just slaughtered a sheep...

Chapter 306 The Test (1)

His horse was exhausted...

The man was well aware of this. His sturdy warhorse was drenched in sweat, the hot sweat even soaking through the mattress under the saddle, making his hands feel the dampness. His abdomen, tucked between his legs, was convulsing and swelling like a blower, each step seemingly requiring all his strength.

If this continues, the fine horses he bought at great expense will run themselves to death. Normally, he would never do such a thing; he would rather walk than waste such a lot of horsepower... But now he can't care about that anymore. If he can't escape, not only will the horses be lost, but his head will also be taken away by someone else.

A sharp, aggressive sound, like the howl of a ghost, surrounded him, shifting and changing around the jungle, never leaving him, like a real demon eyeing his life... He knew what these sounds were—the Imperial light cavalry from the north, like hungry wolves, relentlessly haunting him, and he was their prey.

He knew exactly what those guys were waiting for... They were waiting for them to be exhausted, to be completely consumed by fear, before they could calmly come and take their spoils.

That time won't be too long...

Even he was exhausted from the long run and the immense psychological pressure. How long could his remaining subordinates hold out? Their only chance was to escape into the territory controlled by his own army. Once they were there, even the boldest of these wolf cubs wouldn't dare to pursue them.

"Whoosh!!!"

A specially designed arrow, accompanied by a piercing, shrill laugh, whistled past their heads, as if someone had whipped them from the shadows. Their horses simultaneously quickened their pace, pushing their already limited stamina to its limit, causing them to frequently turn their heads, their expressions growing increasingly panicked.

"These damned bastards, may the Holy Lord curse them to be burned in flames after death!"

The man couldn't help but curse, but it was all in vain. He couldn't even get a sneer in return. Most of the arrows they fired in their panic missed their mark. Even if they did hit the enemy's fine chainmail, it would block most of them... To be honest, this was the first time he had ever seen an army where even the scouts had such excellent armor.

Battles between scouts are often more bloody and brutal. Small-scale probing, guerrilla warfare, ambushes, and pursuits test an individual's courage, martial skills, and essential quick thinking. A slight mistake can lead to the death of even the most famous warrior.

Only those who are truly quick-witted, resourceful, and brave can serve in this branch of the military, and he has clearly already failed...

He had never seen such an opponent before—more ferocious than a wolf, more cunning than a fox, never hesitant to use despicable means to weaken his enemies, never taking the initiative to confront them head-on, and only striking when the prey was exhausted and exposed a weakness, then striking to achieve victory and wipe them out.

He came out with a full thirty men, but now only eight of them are still alive and have run here with him; the rest are heads hanging on the enemy's saddles...

Amidst the billowing dust, just as their horses were panting heavily and everyone had eaten their fill of dirt, they finally saw the white city walls in the distance—at that moment, the man almost burst into tears; he had never imagined he would miss the safe city so much.

The others were immediately invigorated and turned around to draw their bows and shoot arrows, forcing back the pursuers who had been harassing them. The pursuers retaliated without hesitation and were not prepared to let them go easily.

For a moment, arrows flew through the air like locusts, whistling with deadly sharpness... However, since it was a matter of drawing a bow and shooting arrows on horseback, and there was still a considerable distance to cover, the accuracy of both sides was worrying. In particular, the fugitives were already exhausted, and many of them could not draw their bows fully, so the arrows they shot were even weaker and less effective. A barrage of arrows only served to harass them.

But that was enough for the fugitives... As long as these guys didn't chase them too closely, they had a chance to escape. They were all invigorated and whipped their warhorses into action.

Until a cold arrow suddenly flew from the side and pierced deeply into the shoulder of a warhorse! The already exhausted creature stumbled and fell to the ground, throwing its rider off and sending him rolling in a pile of rubble, a bloody mess... Only then did the fugitives realize—the situation was dire!

From a grove of trees to the east of the city, light cavalrymen draped in red cloaks emerged like ghosts and rained down arrows upon them!

They were ambushed! The man realized this immediately, but it was too late to say anything... The pursuers had been driving them in this direction to capture them all.

In this extremely critical final moment, the leader of the reconnaissance squad from the southern tribe finally showed the courage he should have. Facing the thunderous hoofbeats behind him and the spears approaching from the side, he gritted his teeth, gripped the leaf spear in his hand, and charged forward—his horse could no longer run, and there was no room for maneuver.

The other side seemed to have the same idea, especially with the billowing yellow dust rising from the city gate in the distance, which made them decide not to waste any more time with them. Braving the rain of arrows, the gleaming spearheads came into view, followed by crescent-shaped scimitars waiting to cut off their heads!

In the blink of an eye, the two passed each other. In this deadly collision, everyone except him had fallen off their horses and become corpses. He was also stabbed several times. His chainmail was torn open by a spear, taking away a palm-sized piece of flesh. The excruciating pain and exhaustion tormented him, and after he and his horse had rushed a short distance, he could no longer hold on and fell over.

In that instant, he burst into laughter, rolling into the yellow sand with a satisfied expression—his spear had struck his first opponent, and he was certain that the other had died before him.

The sound of the horse's hooves had faded into the distance, and his mind was becoming hazy. A sharp ringing in his ears was churning his brain like a knife, and his stomach was spasming as if it were knotted, causing blood and vomit to come out of his mouth at the same time.

A fine horse stopped in front of him. The rider's clean-shaven chin beneath his helmet was taut, and he looked down at him with a deep gaze, but he no longer cared.

The gleaming scimitar shone with a warm, brilliant luster in the sunlight. Watching its sharp blade rise high like the wings of an eagle, he coughed and squinted.

“Look, he is going up on the light, in the moon of sheep's tongue and thorns…”

The blade slashed down, blood splattered everywhere, and his vision blurred... As he was grabbed by the hair and lifted up, the last thing he saw was his own bleeding neck...

........................

Before the pursuers in the city arrived, the light cavalry had already scattered. They coordinated perfectly to kill themselves, tied the bodies of their comrades to their warhorses, and quickly left along the road, leaving behind only headless corpses and splattered blood.

Some even took advantage of their nimble hands and feet to plunder the better-quality armor and weapons into their saddlebags during this short opportunity, leaving them as clean as a carcass that had been visited by vultures.

The cavalry that chased them out of the city only followed for twenty or thirty miles before retreating. For them, the area beyond the city was no longer safe. Tens of thousands of imperial light cavalry roamed around like a pack of wolves, hunting down any enemy who dared to leave the territory of the enemy army. Countless scouts disappeared without a trace, like stones thrown into water, and never returned.

However, in order to ascertain the movements and plans of the Imperial Legion, a steady stream of reconnaissance units continued to be dispatched. Bloody probing had already begun before the main armies even drew near… but it seemed that the Aslerians were unexpectedly falling into a disadvantageous position at an extremely rapid pace.

This caught the commander of the Assele Legion completely off guard—no matter what intelligence he gathered, he had never heard of the Empire having such a large number of elite light cavalry! They were practically overwhelming him, making it impossible for him to discern the enemy's situation.

They had barely exchanged blows when the renowned Thesolius opposite him slapped him across the face without hesitation, and with such ferocity and aggression that he immediately realized he had to change his strategy…

--------

"We should assemble our army and fight the Empire to the death on the northern plains! Let these warmongers know they should keep their claws out of their hands, or we'll chop them off! When did the people of the Land of Yellow Sands become so cowardly? They actually want to retreat from the enemy when our army has suffered no losses?!"

A bearded Assele general was complaining with a furious expression, spitting as he spoke. Anyone could see his displeasure; he was like a lion driven mad with hatred, ready to tear something apart at any moment.

The person he was questioning remained expressionless, appearing somewhat weak. However, this very demeanor caused his voice to grow softer and softer, and his expression to become slightly flustered. Eventually, he could no longer continue speaking, coughed a few times, and buried his head in his seat.

Having subdued the discontented general with just a glance, Samir showed no sign of triumph, maintaining his calm demeanor, only shifting his gaze to his left:

"Salim, what do you think? Do you, like Iprah, believe we should take the initiative and challenge the Empire to a decisive battle?"

The man he was questioning was a man with a goatee, a thin face, but still strong and powerful limbs. He looked like a leopard standing up, giving people a sense of danger at all times.

He wore a brass plate breastplate and back armor, without any other auxiliary armor. The turban wrapped around his forehead was a bright and vivid red and black striped pattern. Where there should have been an ear on the left side, there was only a smooth, abnormal patch of skin left, obviously cut off by a sharp blade.

When questioned by his commander, he showed no panic, only paused briefly to organize his thoughts, clearly having planned ahead:

"Sir, I don't think this is a good idea..."

Before the words were even finished, the hot-tempered general had already stood up and was shouting insults:

"You coward!..."

“Shut up, Iprah. Don’t make me throw you out of here in front of everyone. That’s not what we want to see.”

Samir's voice, sharp as a blade, suddenly choked him, preventing him from speaking further. He could only sit back down indignantly, causing the Apharis in the tent, who had already begun to move, to return to their original positions.

“Go on, Salim, tell me your reasons… This war we face requires the wisdom of all the nobles, and I am eager to hear your thoughts.”

Salim nodded, glancing sideways at the irritable man opposite him, before continuing:

"My lord, we have already accomplished most of our main objective this time—the Southeast Valley has fallen into our hands, and the Imperials are currently in high spirits and showing their strength. There is no need for us to fight them head-on. What good would that do us? Even if we temporarily repel the Imperials, we will certainly suffer considerable losses."

"We have already obtained what we needed. Faced with their aggressive advance, what we should do now is to retreat layer by layer to intercept them, weaken and exhaust their strength, lure their legion deeper, and use the terrain we have already obtained to fight against the Empire... After all, as the saying goes, an arrow that has flown too far, even if shot from a strong bow, will hardly be able to tear through a layer of silk."

"Moreover, this has another advantage: we will not lose what we have already gained. The Southeast Valley has been occupied by us. Even if the battle is not going well, we can hold it securely. In this way, we can be invincible from the very beginning."

………………

Samir nodded slightly, then looked at the others:

"And what are you all thinking? Speak up. I'd rather you vent your grievances here than see you delay or slack off during the battle. Otherwise, I won't have any room for tolerance."

“We will reach a final conclusion after today. If you did not object before then, you will not have the right to do so afterward… starting with you, Iserahim.”

Chapter 307 The Test (2)

This cold weather is perfect for a unique activity of our time, one that has high barriers to entry and requires a certain status to participate in—a large-scale hunt.

The nomadic peoples of the grasslands regard hunting as an important source of meat. After all, cattle and sheep are important production tools, and they are generally reluctant to kill them for food. In this case, the game they hunt becomes especially important.

Leaders often use tacit cooperation and precognitive maneuvering to drive prey out of the jungle and bushes and shoot them with arrows. The spoils are then distributed according to merit and status, thus consolidating their position and authority.

Of course, for Thesolius, his hunt was a purely relaxing activity, without any other motives, simply to give his tense nerves some leisure so that he could think more deeply and plan more prudently.

Riding his horse atop the high slope, from this vantage point spanning dozens of miles, he could see the surrounding plains and forests in their entirety. He could clearly see the light cavalrymen, who came and went like the wind, returning like hunters laden with their spoils, except that their prey was bloody heads.

You could often see cavalrymen who died in these dangerous hunts. They would be brought back by their comrades, who would tie them to their saddles, and then special officials would handle their affairs.

"If I'm not mistaken, the Assele people will probably give up their plan to fight a decisive battle with my army... After all, it's not in their interest, or rather, they no longer have the opportunity."

"After all, most of the Hols' land has fallen into our hands, and they've also gained the Southeast Valley. We've just taken too much at once. Guess, Doctor, where they'll finally confront us?"

Tarina was trying to cut a blade of grass with her knife. The plant in her hand had long leaves and thick roots, with light blue spots on the leaves, making it look like a stunted, strange carrot.

The words of Thesolius reached the girl's ears precisely, but Tarina remained motionless, completely focused on cutting the leaves with her knife. She simply gave her own reply:

“I suspect they’ll be near the Saru Delta… there’s no better place for the defensive side.”

“That’s right. If we keep advancing by conquering cities, that will indeed be our limit. But they probably haven’t witnessed the speed at which we conquer cities… Do you think they’ll misjudge that?”

Tarina had already cut off all the leaves, then carefully placed the leaves with blue spots into the pit next to her and buried them. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief and wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"I think even if they have collected relevant intelligence, without firsthand experience, it would be difficult for them to make an accurate judgment... Before actually witnessing a legion besieging a city, I would never have imagined that a country's army could be so good at dealing with cities, as orderly and skillful as a butcher slaughtering cattle and sheep."

"That's good. As long as they relax their vigilance on this matter, our plan will succeed... Doctor, stop busy digging for herbs. We're out hunting today. Why don't you try getting a bow and arrow?"

Tarina was extending her hands, letting Colin pour water from his water pouch onto them so she could wash the liquid off her skin. Upon hearing this, a troubled expression immediately appeared on her face:

“But sir, I’m not very strong, I probably can’t draw a strong bow… and I’ve never been trained, so I probably won’t be able to shoot accurately, right?… You guys go ahead and hunt, I’ll just collect some herbs. There’s a lot of variety here, even this highly poisonous ringed variegated palm…”

Before she could finish speaking, the girl's attention was drawn to a glimmer of green emanating from the withered grass in the distance. She prepared to continue her work, while Tersolius simply smiled and nodded.

"It's just because you can't draw the bow, right? If you could draw it, could you put down your work and join us? You know this is a rare time to relax, and you haven't had a break in a long time... Besides, there shouldn't be many kinds of herbs this season, so it won't take you too much time."

Having been put on the spot, Talina couldn't refuse any longer, and seeing that Colin beside her also looked eager to try, she could only nod. But she was also very curious about what method Tersolius planned to use to get her to draw the powerful bow.

It's important to understand that everyone has a limit to their innate physical strength. Although Tarina is healthy, she is far from having the strength of Colin and Karila, let alone being able to draw the powerful bows in the army—the arrows shot from those bows could even shatter iron armor and pierce through strong oxen, so you can imagine how much strength it would take to draw them...

"I've been waiting for you to say that, Doctor. I was prepared..."

Tersolius grinned and waved to the side, whereupon a guard took a crossbow from his saddlebag and handed it to him a few steps forward.

"Crossbows?..."

Tarina looked troubled... She felt she probably couldn't use it either. Crossbows usually had a much higher draw weight than bows because they could be cocked with all their might, leaving more room for maneuver... But even the softest crossbow bolts in the army were not something she could use.

"Huh... what is this?"

It wasn't until Tersolius took out a peculiar device from his saddlebag that she showed a puzzled expression and subconsciously took two steps forward to approach it.