When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Just as Horn had predicted, Hotam County and the hired lower-ranked knights launched a charge on both flanks.

However, the corps of the right-wing army chose normal retreat shooting since there were only about a hundred enemy knights.

Meanwhile, the left-wing army, having slightly more knights, opted for a kneeling front and upright rear shooting position in order to prevent the Imperial Order Knights from following in the assault, as there was no time for the Holy Gunmen to retreat back to the array.

Despite having mostly reloaded, there was no chance for a second volley. They could only stand at the sides of the gun array, stuffing smelling salts into their noses and struggling to wind the clockwork.

"Faster, faster!"

Hearing the terrible racket of the gears, Arman had no sentiment for his warhorse, spurring his boots to dig hard into the horse's belly.

Amid its painful neighing, the horse's four hooves swept, and the blood in its eyes became even more intense.

The horse hooves struck the ground, with black smoke and hot air endlessly brushing Arman's faceplate, funneling into his helmet through the eye slits of his bird-beak helm.

Breathing heavily, Arman's back slightly curved, his back bumping against the saddle as the ruby and sapphire-studded knight's longsword slapped against his thigh.

The golden mane danced with the hot wind, the horse's head nodding subtly as if the very earth were trembling and leaping.

Before them lay a slowly moving steel line, helmets and armor with a dull sheen rubbing against the clothing.

The lances swung orderly side to side, the cohesive black uniforms and red sashes made this army appear not as a timid infantry array but more like a mobile black wall of sashes.

Resolute as iron, seemingly insurmountable.

Arman shook his head, casting off his doubts, gritting his teeth and charging onward.

Standing before this wall, holding his plume lance, Victor's palms began to sweat.

Not far ahead, the warhorses formed a swarming triangular wedge, charging like a tsunami towards Victor's Black Hat First Corps, led by the Imperial Order Knights.

Heavy armored cavalry advanced on the pale plain, the sides of their hoof strikes littered with knights writhing and moaning on the ground.

Broken weapon fragments and banners were trampled by horseshoes, bouncing on the ground.

The knights charging like tides would likely shake even a renowned general like Marshal Deng Jia'er if he were reincarnated.

Yet their infantry was only six thin layers deep; Victor did not hope to hold all six hundred knights but at least two hundred, to ease the pressure on Lefi and Juer Dan in the rear.

"Hold fast, stay close!" Victor repeated his command, "Anyone who retreats a step, I'll shove this plume lance right up his arsehole!"

"Bang bang—" Amidst the gunfire, Victor's voice was half drowned out, followed by the wailing of warhorses.

The Imperial Guard's First Corps once again launched a volley at the charging knights' flank, with over a hundred lead projectiles hitting the side of the wedge formation.

Blood splattered, warhorses reared, instantly toppling over twenty knights and causing a dozen more steeds to wail in agony.

The toppled horses kicked up dust, blocking the charge path in the middle; the elite knights in the rear skillfully leaped over them.

As for those less skilled, they either reined their horses to slow and circumnavigate or were tripped, flying off their mounts and breaking their necks.

"Don't stop, don't wait, charge, charge!"

Sharp-eyed, Arman noticed two horizontal arrays moving not far away, seemingly supporting the four corps on the left side.

There was no time to wait, only to charge.

The 200 Hotam Squire Knights, 100 regular knights, and the 300 Imperial Order Knights charging in front were all the main knights Arman could gather in a short time.

A full 600 knights, though eighty or so had fallen behind, they still had over 500, and most importantly, not a single Imperial Order Knight was missing.

As long as they could break through the enemy formation with sufficient horse speed before the opposing Holy Gun Cavalry could react, they wouldn't count as a great defeat.

"Release arrows!" Arman shouted loudly after slipping the last vial of potion into his mouth.

The sound of bowstrings came from behind, emanating from the Light Armor Attendant Knights, with hundreds of arrows descending from the sky, striking the war monks who stood aimed with guns.

"Don't move, raise your lances."

"Look ahead, remember your positions!"

"Bastard, hold your gun steady, do you want to become a deserter?"

Eighty meters, fifty meters, thirty meters...

As the helmets of the Imperial Order Knights with their sinister bird-beaks loomed closer, the war monks fell increasingly silent.

Without the Holy Gunmen's Holy Wind cover, are you afraid?

They now have exquisite armor, sharp spears, and higher-level breathing techniques and more proficient extraordinary martial arts.

Compared to their civilian days, they now possess a resolute heart.

Back in Pavia, they only had cloth clothes and were never afraid; how could they be now?

The whistling wind fell ahead of the thundering hooves, and the knights could clearly see this group of peasants, who, for the first time, raised their heads defiantly under the hooves.

"Leia! Leia! Leia!" With three calls of the nation's name, over five hundred Imperial Knights charged ahead into the blockade formed by the Black Hat First Corps.

"Saint Master abides!" Three rows of densely packed spears pointed towards the charging Imperial Knights, "You lazy pigs!"

The clash of armor and spears emitted countless sparks, twisting into bent and even spiral shapes.

The wooden shafts of the spears burst one after another, and more than a dozen War Monks in the front row were knocked off their feet, flipping several times in the air before landing.

Spears swung, axes cleaved, the Imperial Knights faced the same encounter as they did during the battle at Windmill Land against the Deng Jia'er Array.

In a bird's-eye view, the originally straight-lined Gallar Array was instantly bent backward by the knights' charge.

Just like a cloth strip about to be pierced, close to the breaking point.

Exploded wood chips covered the ground, as Arman navigated like sailing through the sea of spears and axes.

The surrounding spears, axes, and swords traced across his armor, and chaotic daggers, rocks, and even unknown sticky substances crashed onto him.

Yet this could not stop him from continuing the charge, as he gulped down a fourth bottle of potion beyond limits, Arman's face turned the same purple as the Hired Knights.

Similarly, his form swelled several times larger, as the jousting lance and Longsword swung back and forth, sending each attacking War Monk flying backward.

The roar of anger and the sound of weapons scraping armor echoed, but after all, Arman was a Titled Knight.

He skillfully and easily dodged all the incoming weapons, letting them strike non-critical areas as much as possible, his Longsword danced a circular ballet, a raised hand and a head rolled off.

Within ten seconds, Arman had slaughtered his way through the legion.

Six rows of thin lines, for an Extraordinary Knight, were just easy prey served on a plate.

The Imperial Order Knights seemed like the final straw, tearing apart the resilient strip of the Gallar Array, breaking it from the middle.

Through this breach, the remaining knights rushed out in a mass, the wound tore wider, almost splitting the array in two.

In the past, Arman surely would have charged once more, decisively crushing this 500-man squad, but now he couldn't.

"How many men do we have left?"

"About 400 left, most of the Squire Knights perished, and ten Imperial Knights were lost."

Although Arman broke through, nearly a hundred knights were still blocked in the battle formation, their charging distance was already short, and the side was pounded by Holy Guns.

Some lacking in horseback skills couldn't speed up, combined with the obstruction from these armored Extraordinary Infantry, causing them to be trapped within the military lineup.

And amid the crossed spears and axes, Holy Gunmen dove into the formation.

A shot from the Holy Gun occasionally fired, and one could see a knight clutching his waist in agony, or abruptly straightening his back, followed by seven or eight spears and three to five axes striking through.

The knights were emitting a battle cry akin to wailing, as blood bubbled out from their wounds, they clutched at their injuries, swinging their Longsword single-handedly, staggering, awash in weapons stabbing from all directions.

This reminded them of their favorite game ever—surrounding a commoner and, under the rule of not speaking behind a knight, shouting for the commoner to be stabbed until they bled to death.

But now, trapped within this circle, they felt the despair and helplessness.

The knights surrounded in the formation, stared at Arman, he was their sole hope.

Looking back at those pulled from their horses and surrounded on the ground, the adjutant couldn't help but ask, "Do we need to turn back to rescue?"

Arman hesitated, he looked at Mizam shivering on horseback, then at the still-moving battle line in the distance, and finally yelled out in frustration.

"Ah—"

Startled by the yell, the adjutant whispered, "Sir?"

"Do not rescue, speed up the horses, continue charging!" Arman, staring at the remaining layer of battle line, gritted his teeth and said.