Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"Woo!"

In an instant, Pompey extinguished the last glimmer of hope in his heart. The flag signals behind him changed one after another, and the previously rousing war horns immediately became suppressed and urgent.

The remnants of the Tenth Legion, nestled in the ruined fortress, were instantly doused with ice water, their frenzied fighting spirit receding like the tide.

Seeing that most of the undead and elephant troops that had stormed into the city were beginning to retreat, the centurions in the city also decisively gathered their scattered teammates and, following the instructions of magical resonance and flag signals, fought their way back along the long street, breaking out from the west gate at the rear.

At this moment, both the Persians and the Romans reached a tacit understanding, retreating one after another to regroup their forces.

“I’ve taken a quick look, and about 80% of the defensive structures here are damaged. I’m afraid we can’t hold them. The Tenth Legion has already rescued those they could. I’ll cover the rear here, and you take the troops and prepare to retreat to the Ninth Legion’s base!”

On the hilltop, Samael noticed that as the two main forces, the Undead and the Elephant Army, returned, the Persian army gradually suppressed the chaos and began to stir again. With a flash of his eyes, he suggested to Pompey.

The decisive Roman general listened to the advice without hesitation, leaving behind a portion of the cavalry and a hundred or so bronze magic cannons that were difficult to transport. He immediately signaled with flags and led the merged legions to withdraw from the battlefield in an orderly manner, into the vast yellow sands of the wilderness.

Using the forces at his disposal, the ancient serpent insidiously bombarded the weak points in the Persian army's defenses several times before decisively destroying the bronze cannons that were nearly unusable due to excessive firing frequency. He then led the remaining men in a swift retreat.

Chapter Sixty-Two: Those Who Scam Others Ultimately Scam Themselves (2/4)

In the desolate wilderness of Zhisang, a howling wind blew, and withered grass flew wildly with the air currents. In the dim and blurred vision, the army, like a red tide rolling in from the sea, marched silently and swiftly under the magical glow. Large and small particles of sand hit the shields and armor with a crackling sound, like rhythmic drumbeats.

Before them stood the Roman army, fresh from that battle of ambush in the wilderness.

Protected within the legion, Samael, who was in charge of transporting the wounded, made way for the wagons and walked alongside the soldiers to inspect the stretchers and wagons carrying the wounded, both lightly and seriously wounded.

The fall of the god Romulus was undoubtedly a severe blow to the morale of the border troops who had not experienced the chaos of the Seven Hills City battle.

For Samael, having taken on this responsibility, he would do his best to do things to the best of his ability.

Therefore, during the process, he would naturally lower himself to show concern and care, or personally provide assistance, in order to demonstrate divine grace.

Although this kind of showy behavior is somewhat clichéd and utilitarian.

But the more conventional the behavior, the more likely it is to be effective.

With his extensive experience in manipulating people's minds, Samael diligently played his role, guiding their mental state in a positive direction.

Pompey, who was in charge of leading the army, saw Samael's behavior and couldn't help but feel respect for this divine regent.

Suddenly, the ancient serpent, which was examining the inflammation of a wounded soldier's severed limb, sensed something, narrowed its vertical pupils, summoned the carved longbow it had taken from the Pantheon, bent down and casually picked up a stone, attaching it to the bowstring.

laugh!

A sharp, piercing sound, muffled by the gale, suddenly arose, accompanied by the hum of an invisible magic that reverberated and spread outwards. Blood spurted from the body of an iron-feathered falcon as it plummeted from the sky, landing with a thud on the sand.

Samael strode forward, grabbed the falcon by the scruff of its neck, and stood before Pompey, who had stopped. He casually set up a barrier, his gaze dark and menacing.

How long did they chase us?

"Your Highness, it has been almost a day and a night."

"Tsk, they circled around several times but still couldn't shake them off. It seems the Persians are still persistent."

"Your Highness, our supplies are running low, and these wounded soldiers need rest..."

Pompey glanced back at the soldiers and wounded in the ranks, whose spirits were still high but whose physical exhaustion and weakness were hard to conceal, and frowned with some worry.

The terrain here is complex, with wilderness, sand dunes, grasslands, and valleys all present, which increases the difficulty of marching.

Moreover, relying solely on human labor, the soldiers' physical strength was depleted faster than that of the pursuers behind them.

The Persians were skilled with Arabian horses, camel caravans, and elephants for long journeys, which were far superior to the Roman legions' two legs.

"Judging from the frequency of this beast's appearances, the Persians behind us are keeping a close watch. We can't let the pursuers lead us to the Ninth Legion's camp like this, otherwise it will be a rather troublesome problem."

"Indeed, what do you mean?"

"The quality of the Persian soldiers varies greatly, and it's impossible for all of them to keep up with our marching speed. Those that are relentlessly pursuing us from behind are mostly the vanguard. The narrow valleys ahead are not conducive to the deployment of a large army. Let everyone rest for a while, and while we're at it, lure the Persians in and teach them a lesson!"

Samael's gaze was chilling, and he gave a faint, cold laugh.

Using infantry to defeat cavalry was a specialty of the Roman legions. After circling around for so long without shaking off this stubborn ant, it was time to teach them a lesson.

Upon hearing this, Pompey nodded, adjusted the marching speed and formation changes, and began preparations.

Samael watched Pompey disappear into the formation, then casually tossed the half-dead falcon behind him.

"Come on, let's give the wounded some extra food later."

The guards who hurriedly caught the prey behind them couldn't help but twitch their cheeks.

This must be the forty-third one already. The Persian falconers have put a lot of effort into raising these iron-feathered falcons, and now they're just going to be stewed in one pot. It's such a waste.

Furthermore, it must be said that the eagle meat was dry, tough, and even got stuck in your teeth...

Amidst the swirling sandstorm, Samael remained unaware of the unspoken grievances of his defenders. He simply tapped the bowstring lightly, turned his head, and gazed wistfully southward, a cryptic look flickering in his eyes.

After a brief, forced march of about an hour and a half, the Roman legions, protected by magic and divine power, broke through the sandstorms and wilderness, entered the valley, and began to rest. Scouts were deployed on both sides, and the legions took the opportunity to adjust their formation.

During the rest period, Samael tasted the eagle meat he had personally hunted. He promptly handed the rest to the guard next to him, patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner, and looked at him with encouragement, as a sign of favor.

Looking at the bloody foam in the bowl, the meat was barely any meat, and the bones were still covered in hair, the young soldier was almost moved to tears.

While the troops rested, Samael patrolled the area, climbed a high slope, looked around, and secretly counted the number of soldiers in a hundred-man unit.

After repeatedly confirming, the man frowned slightly, his good mood from doing a good deed was immediately ruined.

In the previous battle, the Roman Praetorian Guard, drawn from the provinces near the city of the Seven Hills, suffered considerable losses. The full strength of 50,000 men was reduced to just over 40,000, a rough estimate of a loss of 7,000 to 8,000.

However, the Persian army on the other side fared even worse, with at least 30,000 to 40,000 corpses left behind, and nearly half of their spellcasters also perished.

The casualty ratio between the Roman legions and the Persian army was close to one to four or one to five, which was much better than the usual one to three.

However, from a holistic perspective, this defensive battle can only be described as mediocre.

Because the fortresses guarding the eastern and western passes fell, the Tenth Army Corps, with nearly 20,000 men, only managed to evacuate a mere 2,000, a devastating loss.

Adding in the losses suffered by the Persians during the siege, the overall casualty ratio for both sides has returned to the average, and the Roman legions' effectiveness is even lower than before, which inevitably worries Samael.

After all, the Persian army has already amassed nearly 300,000 men, and more slave soldiers and supplies are being continuously transported to the front lines.

In contrast, Rome, fighting on three fronts, was already stretched thin. Even after joining forces with the Ninth Legion, Pompey could only muster about 60,000 to 70,000 troops.

Even with casualties at a ratio of four to one or five to one, if this continued, the Roman legions would likely have been worn down long before the Persian army was completely wiped out.

Moreover, even if they retreated to the Ninth Legion's base, during the Age of Gods, the so-called high walls and fortifications could only provide extremely limited protection against the relentless bombardment of magicians and those with divine blood.

The more people cluster together, the more severe the losses may be.

The extremely obvious disparity in individual combat strength was also directly reflected in the previous blocking battles.

The well-trained Roman legions could easily rout a Persian army of over 100,000, but they were utterly defeated by the mere two or three thousand Immortals.

Their casualty ratio compared to the opposing side was astonishingly high, reaching one to ten in some areas!

Of the seven or eight thousand casualties suffered by the Royal Guard, nearly half died in the clashes with the Undead.

Even if they lose one or two thousand undead soldiers, the opposing side still has more than ten thousand undead main force soldiers.

Samael suspected that these 10,000 Immortals alone could overpower the 40,000 to 50,000 Roman legions in front of him.

What the hell was that despicable bastard who came up with this inhuman mess?!

Frustrated, the ancient snake lost its temper and couldn't help but curse inwardly.

However, in an instant, Samael thought of the immortal herb in the Persian Gulf, the black-armored soldiers in the Battle of Uruk, and the Kusa people who were protected by Ereshkigal's underworld, making them invulnerable to blades and spears and possessing abnormal vitality. His lips twitched violently.

Stop yelling, stop yelling, I'll take the blame, okay...

Just as the ancient serpent was feeling frustrated and grumbling, a violent tremor came from the wilderness outside the valley entrance, and a continuous black tide of people surged in.

Chapter Sixty-Three: Winning at the Clubhouse with Young Models, Losing at the Clubhouse with Young Models (3/4)

Boom boom boom!

A series of cursed projectiles were launched, kicking up clouds of yellowish dust. The rapidly advancing cavalry, seeing that they had caught up with the Roman troops, instinctively closed the distance and surged into the valley.

However, in their hazy vision, what greeted them were insidious horse traps the size of fists, hidden under the sandstorm, magic mines, and waves of arrows raining down from the gentle slopes on both sides.

In an instant, hundreds of Persian cavalrymen charging in the front ranks were thrown to the ground.

The Persian cavalrymen who fell to the ground, along with their horses, suffered broken bones and torn tendons, while the charging troops behind them kept their heads down and shields raised, showing no sign of slowing down the momentum of the charge.

Puff puff puff!

Under the relentless iron hooves, those unfortunate souls who landed were mercilessly trampled into mincemeat.

Pompey and Samael's eyelids twitched; they sensed a fierce aura emanating from this group.

Meanwhile, the rested Roman legions, based on the unit of a hundred, formed ranks in rows and columns. The soldiers in the first rank crouched down and used their javelins as spears, while the soldiers in the rear ranks, according to orders, used their javelins as spears to thrust or throw them in concentrated fire. They formed several square formations that protected each other, displaying a typical heavy infantry anti-cavalry formation.

Faced with a dense forest of spears, each two meters long with a grooved iron handle and a sharp triangular tip, the Persian cavalrymen who crashed into them were instantly skewered like meat skewers, and even their armored warhorses were riddled with holes by the powerful impact.

The offensive of nearly 20,000 cavalrymen was immediately halted. The Roman legions peeled away the Persian cavalry lines layer by layer, like peeling an onion. The sounds of metal clashing, flesh tearing, cursed bullets exploding, and screams filled the air.

However, as the infantry phalanx penetrated to a depth of one-third of the Persian cavalry, several hundred-man squads in the front ranks, which had been standing firm, were knocked away along with their shields. Their bones and tendons were broken in mid-air, and their bodies were twisted in an exaggerated way as if they had been run over by a tank. The tight formation was also brutally broken apart.

In an instant, the Roman legion suffered heavy casualties. The Persian cavalry that broke through the enemy lines, after their horses fell, quickly got up, drew their scimitars, cut through the dense arrows embedded in their bodies, drew their javelins, and charged forward as if unaffected.

Samael and Pompey, who were surveying the entire situation, looked at each other from afar, their eyes fixed on each other, their faces grim.

The Undying Army!

A large number of undead soldiers were mixed in with these cavalrymen! Initial estimates put the number at four to five thousand!

They actually used nearly half of their Undead Army to charge into the enemy lines and intercept them; they're really willing to go all out!

At this moment, in the narrow valley, the classic Roman heavy infantry anti-cavalry formation was gradually pushed back by the Undead who were willing to suffer casualties. The Roman legions, which were being impacted and divided, inevitably fell into chaos.

Samael watched the blood and flesh flying everywhere on the battlefield, locked in a stalemate, his brow furrowed in worry.

Three to five thousand Immortals are naturally no match for forty to fifty thousand Roman legions, but anyone with a little common sense can understand that.

Spending a lot of money is often for the purpose of making a big profit.

It seems that Darius III's hundreds of thousands of Persian troops are on their way and are closing in from all sides, ready to completely annihilate their Roman legion.

Tsk, I actually got tricked!

The ancient snake, having figured out the key to this, was immediately struck with a headache and felt quite helpless.

Ultimately, however, this was not simply a miscalculation, but rather a result of the vast disparity in strength between the enemy and ourselves, as well as Rome's internal weakness, leaving him with very few cards to play.

This reckless, all-out attack was precisely the kind of wasteful strategy that the Roman legions couldn't afford to afford.

It seems there were also shrewd and capable individuals within the Persian army.

This is troublesome...

Samael met up with Pompeo, and the two exchanged views briefly, summarizing two strategies.

Either be wise and make a tough decision, leaving 10,000 men to intercept the Persian cavalry, while the main force urgently retreats to the Ninth Legion's base to join them.

The reason for choosing this valley area, which is wide in and narrow out, was to facilitate evacuation in case of unforeseen circumstances.

However, doing so would be tantamount to completely abandoning these 10,000 people, which would be a significant blow to both morale and strength.

They could take a gamble and hope that Darius III could devour this 3,000-5,000-strong undead army bait before completing the encirclement and annihilation, and then still have the strength to break out of the encirclement.

High risk naturally leads to high reward. If they win, they can break the spine of the Persian Empire's 200,000 to 300,000-strong army, ensuring that the eastern defense line has the strength to fight head-on on the front lines.

But if things went wrong, it would be equivalent to the complete collapse of the Roman Empire's entire eastern defense line.

However, neither of the two options was entirely satisfactory, regardless of which one was chosen.

This battle was a matter of life and death for the entire Roman Empire. Pompey was somewhat hesitant, glancing at the gods beside him several times, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

Samael traced the patterns on the carved bow in his palm, his fingertips lightly tapping the bowstring, his gleaming gaze finally hardening into a fierce intensity.

Winning means getting a young model from the club, losing means getting a young model from the club.

The outcome is the same anyway, so damn it, I'll gamble!

Having made up his mind, Samael looked up at the stalemate on the battlefield and responded with a sinister grin.

"Since they've delivered themselves right to our doorstep, let's devour them as quickly as possible!"

Upon receiving the divine decree, Pompey decisively adjusted his mindset, cleared his mind of distractions, and focused his calm and sharp eyes solely on the battlefield before him, issuing precise orders for changing formations and encirclements to the entire army.

The entire Roman legion, like a finely wound-up gear, meshed and operated flawlessly, carrying out its plan to divide and annihilate the Persian vanguard in the valley.

The accompanying priests and magicians sensed an ominous atmosphere and spared no effort in providing magical and divine support, causing chaos and bloodshed on the enemy's side.

At this moment, the ancient serpent's gaze swept across the battlefield, looking into the distance.