Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

If it were just the Imperial army, they wouldn't be so terrified—but after those so-called kin joined in, they truly faced the imminent threat of annihilation!

These despicable kin also know their migration routes for each season, where they are likely to be, and which routes to take to easily catch them...

With the help of those Kurist tribes, the already formidable Imperial Legion can now easily deliver a terrible blow, as if turning over a stone and catching an insect underneath!

In just a few days, seven or eight tribes had been completely wiped out... The heads of their nobles were cut off and hung from the treetops, the able-bodied men were enslaved and their livestock were divided up; if it weren't for the few survivors who escaped, they wouldn't even know about it.

Seeing such a disaster about to befall them, who wouldn't be afraid? Any sensible person immediately sprang into action. At the very least, they wanted to stay away from the south to avoid being caught. As for the other unfortunate souls, let them fend for themselves.

A tragic migration took place on this land. Everywhere, tribes drove their cattle, sheep, and horses, pulling carts and carrying all their belongings, heading north. Heartbreaking cries echoed across the entire grassland.

Many people thought that this was the end for the Kurist people. Now that they had lost their army, they were powerless to resist the terrible enemy. They were like a flock of sheep being driven, lost and weak.

The elderly people left on the land silently found a place to sit and watched their descendants depart. Their faces were expressionless, showing neither despair, sadness, nor anger, but rather a sense of normalcy.

Wolf tracks have already appeared on the hillside. In the twilight, green bioluminescent dots move and wander in the darkness, waiting for their next meal.

An old woman suddenly opened her mouth, which had only five teeth left, and took a deep breath, as if she wanted to burst her lungs. She paused deeply at her limit, then let out a long, sharp, and low moan, with a rapid tremor, which pierced through the surrounding darkness and spread into the distance.

The other dozen or so old men opened their mouths in response at the same time. Their combined voices sounded like a huge beast sighing on a high slope, sending chills down one's spine in the darkness.

With another inhale and exhale, the exhalation became melodious and clear, like a lark flapping its wings and soaring into the sky. A desolate and long ballad was played by their mouths and throats, spreading to all directions.

This is the most common folk song among the Kurist people. Every young child learns how to speak their language and all aspects of the land they live in from this song. Under the protection of their parents, they learn how to ride a horse, how to draw a bow and arrow, how to herd sheep, and how to drive away hungry wolves...

A burst of weeping erupted from the departing procession. Some men and women, tears streaming down their faces, dared not look back, only pressing forward, leaving behind the song etched into their very bones, and the people who raised them to live with the lurking wolves... At the same time, they held their bewildered children tightly in their arms, watching the flock of sheep being driven around them.

Fear is rushing in from the south, nightmares are spreading from the south, and they are about to grab them by the toes and drag them off their horses, so they cannot and dare not linger.

The men who went to plunder the Empire did not return; they remained in the West with their armor and warhorses. This time, it was not the Western Empire people who wept bitterly, but they themselves…

………………

A wolf cautiously poked its head out of the bushes, sniffing the bloody scent in the air. The fur on its head was a tangled mess from the sharp thorns and branches in the bushes.

Wolves are cunning and ferocious beasts. A single wolf is not a threat; a strong man can handle it with a little care. But if they gather into a pack, then all the men in the tribe must be on guard, protecting their cattle and sheep as if they were guarding an army.

The scent of blood wafting from afar excited it, its two green eyes shining even brighter. Just as it shook its fur and was about to emerge from the bushes, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly came from the top of the hill, causing it to instinctively pull its head back and try to hide.

But it was too late... An arrow shot from the bowstring, piercing through the loose branches and leaves, easily penetrating the fur and flesh, and emerged from the other side, pinning the gray wolf to the ground.

A tall, strong steed galloped in, its fiery red cloak billowing in the night. The rider tucked his short bow into the saddlebag behind him, reached for the saddle, leaned down, and swiftly dragged the wolf onto the saddle. He then deftly tied it with ropes. Throughout the entire process, the warhorse maintained a slow trot pace and never stopped.

The rider galloped through the bushes and across the ditches. He climbed high slopes and ventured into low valleys, carefully examining every corner. Sometimes he would stop to observe footprints and animal droppings on the ground, and only when it was completely dark would he mount his horse and head back.

Traveling at night is extremely dangerous, but he is both skilled and daring. He urges his horse on without restraint, always managing to avoid dangerous potholes at crucial moments and swiftly traverse gentle hills and grasslands; his warhorse is as if it were an extension of his legs.

He advanced at top speed, and soon he saw firelight in the distance—that was where the legion was stationed.

After traveling for a while, they saw the iconic, well-organized camp. After exchanging passwords, the soldiers guarding the camp gate pried open the barricades and deer antlers to let him in.

He followed the specially designed passage between the camps toward the center until he saw the huge white tent. He then dismounted, removed his helmet, wiped the sweat from his face, and waited for his guards to report.

Before going in, Fitzgerald paused briefly, organizing his thoughts in his mind, before lifting the gate and stepping inside.

"You're back. How did it go?"

Three oil lamps were lit in the tent, but the light was still dim. Thesolius sat there in the lamplight, thoughtfully examining a copper coin in his hand.

“Just as we expected, sir.” Unlike the composed lawyer Teso, Fitzgerald was quite excited, ignoring the wet hair on his face, and hurriedly reported his findings:

"The Kurist people have begun to flee and have started to abandon the old and weak in their tribes. They are terrified, and a large area of ​​the surrounding land has lost their tribes."

"Moreover, the water and grass in the north are even more barren, and the original tribes were already struggling to survive. If they brought their livestock there, they would have a hard time raising them, and the local tribes would definitely clash with them..."

The middle-aged man spoke clearly and logically about his findings, while Tersolius listened quietly, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

After the brief report, he finally spoke:

"It seems the time is almost right... As long as their leader isn't an idiot, he should be able to make a wise choice."

"Tell the tribes that came with us to tone it down a bit, don't push them too hard, make those two slow down, and don't mess things up."

Fitzgerald immediately nodded in agreement and prepared to do it soon.

Tesorus paused slightly before continuing:

"Have you heard from the Black Crows? They should have completed their mission by now."

Not yet...

Before he could finish speaking, the tent flap was suddenly flung open again, revealing a parchment envelope in the guard's hand bearing the glaring mark of a red-eyed raven...

180 Black Crow (1)

The silent men in black were like ghosts. Their wide robes concealed any extra features, making it difficult to discern their gender and identity. The bronze masks on their faces, which could express sorrow, joy, anger, or laughter, made them appear even more otherworldly.

If one were to see them in the darkness of night, no matter how brave and resilient a person may be, they would likely be greatly shocked, thinking that messengers from hell have come to earth to entice fallen sinners.

Although they appeared to be dressed in plain clothes, the sound of metal plates scraping against each other and chainmail rings striking hard leather armor as their robes fluttered proved that they also had excellent protection; even their boots were covered with neatly arranged thin copper plates.

Those prisoners who managed to escape from this country with its harsh laws were no pushovers; each one was resolute, ruthless, and incredibly cunning.

Capturing them and bringing them to justice is not something cowards or incompetents can do. Although the jailers are feared by everyone, they are also exceptionally skilled and highly adept. Coupled with their meticulously crafted protective armor, they have become feared by criminals throughout the empire.

They are like vicious dogs from hell; once they catch a scent, they will never give up until their prey falls between their fangs and oozes scarlet blood, only then will they be satisfied.

Even their horses are specially trained and have their vocal cords removed, in order to become the most deadly hunters.

A jailer reached out and touched a fallen leaf on the ground, looking at it...

He observed the fine dust left behind by the shattered leaves for a moment, then looked up and nodded to their leader.

"They just left here a short while ago and headed southeast, probably trying to get into the forests of Perishart."

"This stray dog ​​is quite good at escaping..." the leader sneered, his voice filled with disdain.

"In order to escape from us, he lost the wealth he brought with him, his trusted subordinates, and his so-called collaborators. Now, what can he possibly lose to delay our advance?"

"Time is running out. Capturing this guy has been more difficult than we expected. We should have finished this mission three days ago... Now, we must bring him back before that person gets impatient."

"Salivia, you take a team and head straight from Paz. Don't let him escape from there. The rest of you, follow me and continue the pursuit along the original route. Let's go immediately!"

The crowd roared in agreement. A thin jailer led ten men away from the group and sped off along another path. The others rode their silent warhorses, following their leader as he roared through the woods. His dark bronze face flashed in the moonlight before disappearing into the darkness. For a moment, it seemed as if a cold wind was blowing, and ghosts were howling. The fallen leaves on the ground were blown up and down by the air currents, as if ghosts were passing through them.

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

A sharp pain shot through my shoulder, but it had already become somewhat numb and sluggish.

The warhorse beneath him had reached its limit, panting heavily, its saddle and mane soaked with sweat, which also stained his trousers, making him feel the hot, damp sensation.

The warhorse slowed down more and more, occasionally letting out a pitiful groan, but he only used the spurs on his feet to desperately stab the warhorse's belly, showing no intention of stopping. He would occasionally look back, but his expression did not show any panic.

Finally, this disregard for the condition of his mount brought about disastrous consequences. The once strong and agile warhorse was now completely exhausted. After being tripped by a small tree root growing from the road, it tumbled forward and fell to the ground, throwing the young man off its back.

He rolled on the ground a couple of times, looking rather disheveled, but actually protected his bones and muscles well, avoiding any serious injury from the fall. He then slowly stood up and stretched his limbs.

Looking at the warhorse lying on the ground, beyond repair, he reached into his boot and pulled out a gleaming double-edged dagger. He then plunged it diagonally behind the horse's ear, twisting it slowly as the horse convulsed in its final moments before pulling it out.

He carefully avoided the gushing horse blood. The clouds in the sky dispersed, and a ray of moonlight shone on the area, illuminating the young man's face.

It was a very ordinary face, with dark hair and a short beard. His facial features were completely unremarkable; however, his downturned eyes and slightly large nose gave him an honest and reliable appearance. He would be hard to spot in a crowd.

Like the young farmers in every ordinary village in the empire, they had just taken up their fathers' hoes and had not yet learned how to properly care for their fields, still needing guidance and help from their elders. Yet, they had already begun to shoulder the heavy burden of their families.

They hadn't yet learned to drink, swear, and spit in pubs every day to release their heavy pressure, and their romance stories always carried a kind of naive and innocent feeling.

The seemingly ordinary young man slowly wiped his dagger clean, then looked up to determine the direction before diving headfirst into the grove of bushes. He trudged through the dense thickets and undergrowth, making his way in one direction with difficulty.

…………

About fifteen minutes later, he finally managed to push aside the dense bushes and emerged from within, accompanied by the rustling of the leaves. He reached out and pulled the spider webs and weeds from his hair, took a couple of careful breaths, and then looked up to continue surveying the surrounding terrain.

This is a clearing in the middle of a dense thicket of trees, with a dead tree trunk lying in the very center. It is mostly rotten and hollow in the middle, buried under a few inches of grass.

Apart from that, there were only a few inconspicuous stones of varying sizes piled around. It looked utterly ordinary.

But he immediately breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxed, and he eagerly darted forward a few steps, bending down and reaching out to pry open an inconspicuous branch on the tree trunk.

"That's a good place."

A chilling, mocking voice suddenly rang out from behind him, sending shivers down his spine. He turned around with a force and speed that seemed to snap his neck—

A tall figure appeared behind him, the black robe covering his entire body and the bronze mask with its ambiguous smile almost making him lose his soul. He involuntarily stepped back, forgetting the huge tree trunk for a moment, and stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.

"This guy's got some brains; he actually thought of setting up a hiding place here..."

The voice continued to come from behind his head. He turned his head with difficulty and saw again the robe as black as the night sky, and a bronze face with raised eyebrows and furious eyes.

“He’s a bit smarter than you. If Bayas hadn’t noticed something amiss, he would have really been hiding here. It would have taken a lot of effort to catch him later.”

A bronze mask with downcast eyes, seemingly about to cry, emerged from the woods, but calmly stabbed its own companion first.

…………

More and more copper faces emerged from the woods, like mushrooms sprouting on bare tree trunks after a spring rain, silently yet with a chilling sense of dread.

They appeared like a group of ghosts, moving silently through the overgrown woods and shrubs, and had surrounded him without him even noticing.

Like friends chatting together, the jailers talked freely, eyeing their prey with mocking looks, without even reaching into their robes, maintaining a very weak encirclement in a completely relaxed manner.

Although it seemed like there was an opportunity, the young man was as afraid to move as if a knife were held to his throat. A strong intuition told him that if he made any move, the outcome would not be good.

"Alright, throw out all your stuff. You don't want us coming looking for it."

The jailer who spoke was their leader. Although the corners of his mouth were upturned, revealing his teeth, his eyes were drooping and dark with wounds, making it difficult to tell whether he was crying or laughing.

As he finished speaking, everyone fell silent. All the noise disappeared, and the forest became extremely quiet, with only the chirping of crickets and other insects remaining.

The young man's face turned deathly pale, even trembling slightly. Just as he was feeling lost and confused, he suddenly paused. Then, his expression changed drastically, before returning to calm in an instant.

"I think that's unnecessary. After all, you're all going to die here today. Let's give this dagger to the next person who comes after me!"

As his words fell, a fierce battle cry suddenly erupted from the surrounding forest. A dense thud of footsteps rustled through the bushes and leaves. Lighted torches illuminated the surrounding area.

Countless people appeared in the forest, all heading towards the clearing with a clear objective. The gleaming swords were conspicuous in the darkness, and the black-clad jailers were instantly surrounded.

Being trapped and surrounded should have been an extremely urgent and life-or-death situation. But the smug young man's expression quickly hardened, because he found that the men in black were completely unmoved, still moving their limbs in a relaxed manner, and some were even whistling.

"He's getting anxious! Look how anxious he is!"

The smiling jailer with the bronze mask on his face clapped his hands and laughed merrily.

"I just want to see that expression on your face. I'll never get tired of it, no matter how many times I see it. It's just so funny."

The jailer, his face contorted with rage, shrugged his shoulders like an excited viper.

"He's stunned, he's stunned now!"

The prison guard, with a sorrowful expression, patted the tree trunk beside him, laughing so hard he couldn't straighten up.

…………

The young man stared blankly at the chaotic scene before him, almost thinking that these people were all insane...

"Disperse."

Suddenly, a word came from beneath the leader's bronze mask. The black robes of the strangely shaped jailers suddenly came loose, spreading out like a cloud of black smoke. With a turn, they effortlessly disappeared into the bushes, as easily as dropping a drop of ink into clear water.

Just then, the noisy reinforcements arrived, and he could even see the burning torches and the ferocious faces; the firelight illuminated the surrounding area...

The next instant, with the whistling of crossbow bolts, all the torches fell to the ground, illuminating only the area below the knees.

A gleaming white blade exploded in the jungle, reflecting the moonlight, crisply slicing through flesh and severing bones. The sound of blood splattering was like someone dumping swill, and panicked screams and wails appeared like a downpour, then disappeared like a shower.

Crossbow bolts crisscrossed the forest, emitting deathly shrieks as they pierced bone and flesh, the sounds of bodies falling echoing endlessly. In the firelight, gleaming bronze faces flashed by, and black robes drifted away like clouds of mist…

The flying head still wore a bewildered expression, and the spilled internal organs emitted bursts of heat. Scattered limbs smashed through the surrounding grass, and the sound of bodies falling one after another, accompanied by the hissing sound of blood splattering, created a terrifying and bizarre symphony.

In the blink of an eye, the forest, which had just been filled with clamor and cries, fell silent. The torches on the ground were picked up by gloved hands, illuminating the blood-stained brass artifacts.

"A total of 32 people came."

The bronze-faced jailer emerged from the forest, blood still dripping from the scimitar in his hand, gradually revealing the smooth blade. But he still found it too slow, so he raised the blade above his head and swiftly swung it to the side, drawing blood lines on the surrounding grass, leaving the blade clean and spotless.

"They're a bunch of idiots, and they didn't have anything good on them, just a few silver coins and copper coins..."

A smiling copper-faced figure emerged from the forest, complaining in a disgruntled tone while tossing several money pouches in his hand.

…………

The men in black reappeared from the forest, just as they had left, and in exactly the same spot as before.

A dark figure swam lightly to him and, before the young man could make any move, deftly threw a punch to his chest and abdomen, causing him to go limp like a lump of mud. The hand that had been inside his clothes was now exposed, along with a sharp dagger.

Even after his hands and feet were bound, his mouth was gagged, and he was strapped to a horse, his expression remained stiff and numb.