"Hold on." Kurzadh raised his hand to stop him, his gaze instantly becoming sharp. "Pass on my order: All hobgoblin archers immediately take your positions and prepare to shoot! No unauthorized firing; wait for my command!"
"Yes, sir!" The sentries on the wall immediately roared. The hobgoblin archers who had been preparing to rest instantly rushed out of the barracks, climbing onto the firing positions on the wall like agile monkeys, nocking their arrows and aiming them at the rapidly approaching cavalry troop.
The torchlight reflected in their eerie green eyes, glinting with bloodlust.
The cavalry troop was moving extremely fast, and in the blink of an eye, they had closed in to about a mile outside Ravenholt.
Kazrelbat rode at the very front, his face so grim it looked like water might drip from him.
He tightly gripped the longsword at his waist, his heart filled with frustration and anger—if Ram had not been constantly urging him from behind, even threatening him with "disobeying military orders," he would never have chosen to launch a forced attack under such unfavorable conditions.
"General, up ahead are the greenskins ' anti-cavalry ditches and spiked barricades!" a cavalry captain reminded him loudly.
Kazrelbat gritted his teeth: "Pass down the order: the entire troop is to slow down, avoid the defensive works, and look for a breakthrough point from the flank!"
Just as the cavalry troop prepared to adjust their formation and look for a route of attack, the gates of Ravenholt suddenly creaked open.
This sight stunned Kazrelbat and all the cavalrymen—they had anticipated the greenskins would shut the gates and defend to the death, or perhaps rain down stones, but they had never expected the greenskins to deliberately open the gates.
Immediately following that, something even more unexpected occurred.
A crowd of ragged townspeople, bringing their families and carrying simple bundles, streamed out of the city gates.
The elderly, women, and children, all wearing expressions of terror, stumbled toward the cavalry troop.
Behind them followed several tall orcs, waving battle axes and roaring in broken Common Tongue: "Hurry! Hurry! There's going to be a war here! Get back to Vireport quickly! Don't die here!"
"Faster! Don't dawdle! The orcs are going to kill people!" An orc roared at a straggling townsperson, raising his battle axe as if to strike, scaring the townsperson into scrambling forward.
Driven by the orcs, the townspeople swarmed toward the cavalry troop like a flock of headless flies.
Seeing the armored cavalrymen, hope instantly burst forth in their eyes, and they cried out, "Save us! Please save us!"
Kazrelbat's face instantly turned pale, and he cursed inwardly: "Damn it! This greenskin chieftain has such vicious methods!"
He immediately realized Kurzadh's intention. These townspeople were the "Hot potato" Kurzadh had thrown over!
If they allowed the townspeople to rush over, they would inevitably break up the cavalry formation.
Cavalry relied on uniformity and charging into battle; once the formation was disrupted, their fighting strength would be greatly reduced.
Moreover, the infantry troop arriving later would also be obstructed by these townspeople, preventing them from successfully completing the encirclement of Ravenholt.
But if he ordered the slaughter of these townspeople, although the formation would be preserved, he would earn the infamy of "massacring the innocent."
The people of Prince Patton's Fiefdom were already dissatisfied with the lord's rule, and if news spread that the cavalry had massacred civilians, it would certainly incite public anger and possibly lead to rebellion.
At that point, let alone retaking Ravenholt, it would be difficult for him to even save his own life.
"General, what should we do? These townspeople are rushing over!" the cavalry captain shouted anxiously, his spear subconsciously pointing at the surging crowd, yet he hesitated to give the order to attack.
Kazrelbat clenched his jaw tightly, veins bulging on his forehead.
He looked at the crying, running townspeople, and then at the poised hobgoblin archers on the city wall, finding himself caught in a dilemma.
On the city wall, Kurzadh watched the cavalry troop descend into chaos below, the smile on his lips growing more cruel.
He turned to Glen and said, "Do you see? This is how humans are; they always have all sorts of reservations.
These townspeople are our best human shields, and in a sense, we are even the good guys, since we didn't slaughter them but instead let them leave."
"Boss, you are too clever!" Glen rubbed his hands excitedly. "Those human scumbags definitely don't know what to do now!"
"Just wait," Kurzadh's gaze swept over the panicked townspeople and landed on the leading figure in the cavalry troop. "They either watch their formation be broken up, or they take on the crime of massacring the innocent. No matter what they choose, they are doomed!"
In the night, the cries of the townspeople, the shouts of the orcs driving them, and the reprimands of the cavalry intertwined, forming a chaotic symphony.
Kazrelbat sat on his warhorse, his face ashen, gripping his longsword tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white from the effort.
He knew he had fallen into Kurzadh's trap, and no matter what choice he made, he would pay a heavy price.
Meanwhile, the greenskins on the city wall watched the scene with great interest, as if enjoying a carefully orchestrated play.
The archers in their hands were already drawn, waiting only for Kurzadh's command to unleash a rain of arrows, completely burying this cavalry troop, caught in its dilemma, within the darkness of the night.
Outside Ravenholt, under the cover of night, chaos spread like a plague.
Kazrelbat, astride his warhorse, watched the surging tide of townspeople, his face so grim it seemed water might drip from it.
He abruptly reined in his horse and loudly commanded, "All troops halt! Quickly, disperse the townspeople!"
However, no sooner had his order left his lips than Ram's sharp rebuke came from behind him: "Kazrelbat! How dare you defy orders?! Do not stop! Attack immediately!"
Ram, riding a scrawny white horse, hid in the middle-to-rear section of the cavalry, his face filled with hysterical fanaticism.
He couldn't see the chaos ahead at all, his mind solely focused on breaking through Ravenholt as quickly as possible to seize credit; as for the lives of the townspeople, they were nothing but insignificant dust in his eyes.
"Lord Ram! Look clearly! It's all townspeople ahead; a forced charge will only break our formation!" Kazrelbat roared back, his voice filled with suppressed fury.
"Townspeople? Just a bunch of commoners! Kill them if they block the way!" Ram waved his hand indifferently. "The Lord wants Ravenholt! Not these useless civilians! If you hesitate again, I will have you court-martialed!"
Kazrelbat gripped his sword hilt tightly, his knuckles white from the effort.
He knew that Ram was currently blinded by the prospect of merit and would not listen to any advice.
If he continued to stand firm, it would not only delay the opportunity but also risk Ram turning on him.
In desperation, he could only grit his teeth and make a decision.
"Pass on my order!" Kazrelbat's voice was tinged with a desperate hoarseness. "Everyone, shout loudly, tell the townspeople to disperse immediately! Those who block the way will be treated as colluding with the greenskins and killed without mercy!"
"Those who block the way, die! Disperse immediately!"
"If you don't want to die, move aside! Otherwise, don't blame us for being impolite!"
Eight hundred cavalrymen roared in unison, their voices shaking the night sky, carrying the unique majesty and killing intent of soldiers.
However, most of these townspeople were simple and ignorant commoners who had never seen such a spectacle in their lives.
They only knew that greenskins were bloodthirsty demons, and the cavalry before them were "Saviors."
They simply didn't understand the true meaning of "those who block the way, die"; instead, they thought the cavalry had come to meet them and rushed even more frantically towards the cavalry formation.
"Save us! Lord, save us!" An old woman, clutching her young grandson, stumbled and rushed towards the nearest cavalryman, her eyes filled with desperate pleading.
"Get out of the way! Quickly, get out of the way!" The cavalryman's face turned pale as he roared and desperately pulled on the reins, trying to avoid the old woman.
But the warhorse, startled, reared its front hooves and kicked the old woman hard in the chest.
The old woman grunted, coughed up blood, and fell to the ground with her grandson, instantly submerged by the surging crowd behind her.
"Charge! Keep charging!" Ram was still urging from behind, completely oblivious to the tragedy unfolding ahead.
The cavalry had no retreat and could only brace themselves and charge forward.
Hooves pounded the ground, kicking up not just dust, but also fresh red blood.
Although the cavalrymen tried their best to control their warhorses and avoid the crowd, the chaotic scene had already spiraled beyond their control.
Some warhorses were tripped by panicked townspeople, their riders falling to the ground, instantly trampled into a bloody mess by the frenzied crowd and subsequent warhorses.
Some cavalrymen had their reins tightly grabbed by townspeople, unable to advance, and could only watch helplessly as the hobgoblin archers on the city wall aimed at them.
Still other cavalrymen, to protect themselves, had no choice but to swing their longswords, cutting down townspeople who blocked their path; blood splattered their armor and stained the ground beneath their feet.
"Ah--!"
Screams, cries, warhorse neighs, and the clang of weapons intertwined, forming a tragic and mournful symphony.
The open ground outside Ravenholt instantly became a living hell.
Large numbers of townspeople were struck and trampled by warhorses, their bodies piled layer upon layer on the ground, blood flowing into streams, glowing with an eerie red light in the night.
Kazrelbat, on his warhorse, looked at the tragic scene before him, his heart filled with endless regret and fury.
He knew that the blame for this massacre would ultimately fall on him.
And the instigator of it all was Ram, hiding in a safe zone behind him, only capable of giving orders!
"Ram! You idiot! Look at the good you've done!" Kazrelbat abruptly turned his horse and charged towards Ram.
Ram was smugly observing the "progress" ahead when he suddenly saw Kazrelbat charging towards him, his face contorted with murderous intent, instantly scaring him out of his wits: "Kazrelbat! What do you think you're doing?! I am the Lord's confidant; if you dare lay a finger on me, the Lord will never let you off!"
"Let me off?" Kazrelbat sneered, his eyes filled with cold killing intent. "If not for you today, how would my brothers have fallen into such a state? If not for you, how would these innocent townspeople have died so tragically? You scum, your death is not to be regretted!"
Before he finished speaking, Kazrelbat drew the longsword from his waist and, taking advantage of the chaos, swung it fiercely at Ram.
The longsword, whistling through the air, precisely struck Ram's neck.
"Pfft—"
Blood gushed out, and Ram's head rolled off, falling to the ground, his eyes still wide open, filled with incredible terror.
His body fell from the horse's back and was quickly trampled beyond recognition by the chaotic crowd and warhorses.
"Greenskins have infiltrated the ranks! Lord Ram has been slain by greenskins !" Kazrelbat suddenly roared loudly, his voice clear enough for all the surrounding cavalry to hear.
The cavalrymen were stunned at first, then immediately reacted.
They looked at Ram's body on the ground, then at the chaotic scene around them, and instantly understood Kazrelbat's intention.
In such a chaotic situation, saying that Ram was killed by greenskins was undoubtedly the best excuse—it eliminated this troublesome fool without incurring the crime of "insubordination."
"Kill the greenskins ! Avenge Lord Ram!" A cavalry captain immediately shouted in cooperation, while swinging his longsword and cutting down a panicked townsperson next to him, disguising him as a "Greenskin who infiltrated the ranks."
Other cavalrymen also chimed in, and for a time, the shouts of "Kill the greenskins !" drowned out the cries of the townspeople.
Kazrelbat knew that this was not the time for a protracted battle; if they continued, the entire cavalry force would be annihilated here.
"Pass on my order! All troops retreat! Retreat immediately!" Kazrelbat commanded loudly, his voice carrying unquestionable authority. "Break through from the left flank, retreat towards Vireport!"
"Yes, General!"
The cavalrymen, as if granted a great pardon, turned their horses and broke through towards the open ground on the left.
At this moment, they had lost all their initial momentum, each looking disheveled, their armor stained with blood and dust, their eyes filled with exhaustion and fear.
On the city wall, Kurzadh saw everything, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.
He turned to Glen and said, "Do you see? humans are like this, constantly infighting, utterly foolish.
Pass on my order, hobgoblin archers prepare to shoot, give them a 'farewell gift'!".
"Alright!" Glen shouted excitedly, "Archers! Fire! Don't let those human scum escape!"
The hobgoblin archers on the city wall were already poised, and upon hearing the command, they immediately released their bowstrings.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—" Countless poisoned arrows rained down like black drops, shooting towards the retreating cavalry.
"Watch out for the arrow rain!" Kazrelbat shouted, brandishing his longsword to block the incoming arrows.
But the cavalry was in the midst of a chaotic retreat and could not form an effective defense.
Arrows whistled down, and cavalrymen constantly fell, struck by arrows.
Some cavalrymen were shot in vital areas and died on the spot; others had their warhorses shot, and the startled horses threw their riders to the ground, where they were overwhelmed by subsequent arrows and pursuers.
"Retreat quickly! Retreat quickly!" Kazrelbat urged the troops forward while blocking arrows.
He knew they had to get out of the greenskins' range as soon as possible, or the consequences would be unimaginable.
Under the pursuit of the arrow rain, the cavalry fled in disarray towards Vireport.
Behind them were mountains of townspeople's corpses, rivers of flowing blood, and the arrogant roars of the greenskins on the city wall.
Kurzadh stood on the city wall, watching the cavalry's frantic retreat, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
He turned to the greenskins behind him and said, "Pass the word down, the brothers in the forest outside the city can move! Bite at their tails, kill as many as you can!"
"WAAAGH!" The greenskins' roars echoed through the night sky, filled with bloodthirsty excitement.
Soon, hundreds of Orc Boyz, who had been lurking in the forest outside Ravenholt, surged out.
Like a pack of hungry wolves, they chased after the retreating cavalry, their battle axes gleaming with a cold light, intending to completely bury this defeated cavalry in the night.
Kazrelbat, riding his warhorse, listened to the increasingly close roars behind him, his heart filled with despair.
He knew that this retreat was destined not to be peaceful.
The greenskin pursuers had already arrived, and his army was already in disarray; whether they could successfully escape back to Vireport was still an unknown.
The night was thick, and blood stained the sky.
On the land outside Ravenholt, countless bodies and bloodstains remained, telling the story of this tragedy caused by folly and arrogance.
The night was like a blood-soaked shroud, tightly clinging to the wilderness outside Ravenholt.
Kazrelbat's cavalry troop was fleeing frantically towards Vireport, their horses' hooves trampling over bodies and puddles of blood, sending up dark red spray that arced eerily in the night.
Behind them, hundreds of Orc Boyz, like rabid dogs smelling blood, roared and chased relentlessly, their warpstone-inlaid axes whistling as they swung, their characteristic crude Orkish howls making hearts tremble—"WAAAGH! Kill these human goblins! Don't let them escape!"
These Orc Boyz, lurking in the forest, were all fierce and malevolent, their skin glistening with deep green oil, their muscular arms covered in grotesque scars, running like out-of-control wild bulls.
They were already the most bloodthirsty shock troops of the Blackrock Clan, and now, seeing the human cavalry in full retreat, their eyes turned red with fury, and they clung to the cavalry's tail with beast-like explosive power.
"Pfft—" A cavalryman at the rear of the troop failed to evade the pursuit and was struck in the lower back by an Orc Boyz's axe from behind, his iron armor splitting like paper, blood mixed with internal organs gushing out.
The rider screamed as he fell from his horse, and was instantly hacked into a bloody pulp by the swarming Orc Boyz.
"Help me!" Another cavalryman's warhorse was struck in the leg by an Orc Boyz's axe; the horse neighed and crashed to the ground, throwing its rider off.
Before the rider could get up, three Orc Boyz had already pounced on him, their sharp tusks aiming for his neck, their axes striking his limbs.
His screams echoed mournfully across the wilderness and soon faded into silence.
In just half an incense stick's time, the cavalry troop had lost nearly a hundred men.
Bodies were strewn across the wilderness, blood soaking the earth beneath their feet, emitting a strong, fishy smell smell.
Kazrelbat rode his warhorse, listening to the screams of his brothers behind him, watching his dwindling troop, his eyes burning with raging fury, his teeth grinding—he absolutely could not let this elite cavalry be completely annihilated here!
"Hold steady, all of you! What are you panicking about!" Kazrelbat suddenly reined in his horse and roared, his voice cutting through the chaotic sounds of flight, "To the left is the scree slope, to the right is the deadwood forest!
Squad One, turn left with me! Squad Two, turn right! Use the terrain to outflank these orcs! Let them know the might of our Patton Cavalry!"
At this moment, he had given up on passive retreat and being picked off one by one, opting instead to use the cover of night and terrain for a desperate counterattack.
The cavalrymen were already battle-hardened elites, only having their formation disrupted by the townspeople earlier.
Now, hearing their general's command, their remaining fighting spirit was instantly ignited, and they roared back in response: "Yes, General!"
"Squad One, follow me!" Kazrelbat spurred his horse's flanks, and the black warhorse neighed, turning and charging towards the scree slope on the left.
Thirty cavalrymen followed closely, their horses' hooves making crisp "Clack-clack" sounds on the loose stones, drawing an arc in the night.
On the other side, the captain of Squad Two immediately led thirty cavalrymen, galloping towards the deadwood forest on the right, their warhorses crashing through low bushes, kicking up a shower of dry leaves.
The pursuing Orc Boyz were in the midst of their killing frenzy when they suddenly saw the human cavalry split their forces, and they paused, their simple orc brains momentarily unable to process it—"Huh? The human goblins split?"
"Who cares! Kill them all! WAAAGH!" The leading Orc Boyz boss roared, not giving it a second thought, and continued to charge straight ahead with his troop, completely unaware that he had ridden into the trap set by Kazrelbat.
The Orc Boyz swarmed into the open ground between the two cavalry squads.
Just as they were halfway across, Kazrelbat's furious roar suddenly came from the scree slope on the left: "Kill!" Thirty cavalrymen, like fierce tigers descending a mountain, charged down the scree slope on their warhorses, hooves kicking up loose stones, spears pointing directly at the backs of the Orc Boyz.
From the deadwood forest on the right, the Squad Two cavalry also charged out simultaneously, longswords swinging, striking at the sides of the Orc Boyz, forming a pincer attack.
"Oh no! An ambush!" The Orc Boyz boss finally realized what was happening, frantically roaring as he tried to adjust their formation, but the orcs were already disorganized, and now caught in a pincer, they instantly fell into chaos.
An Orc Boyz had just turned around when he was impaled through the chest by a charging cavalryman's spear.
The spear was pulled out, dripping with blood, and he screamed as he fell to the ground.
Another Orc Boyz tried to swing his axe to resist but had his arm lopped off by a cavalryman charging from the side with a sword.
Green blood gushed out, and he howled in pain, quickly being trampled into a bloody mess by a warhorse.
Kazrelbat wielded his longsword, moving through them as if unopposed; wherever his blade passed, Orc Boyz fell.
He split open an Orc Boyz's skull with a single sword stroke, green brains mixed with blood splattering on his armor.
His eyes cold, he roared: "Kill them! Avenge our fallen brothers!"
The cavalrymen's morale surged, and they charged back and forth among the Orc Boyz on their warhorses, spearing, longsword-slashing, and trampling with their warhorses.
The Orc Boyz suffered heavy casualties; their formerly arrogant howls turned into desperate screams.
They usually only knew how to charge blindly and never encountered such tactical coordination.
Under the cavalry's encirclement, they scattered like headless flies, constantly being cut down and trampled.
Green blood flowed into streams on the ground, mixing with the earlier human bloodstains, becoming even more gruesome.
"Retreat! Retreat quickly!" The Orc Boyz boss watched his brothers fall one by one around him and finally became afraid, roaring as he tried to lead the remaining Orc Boyz in retreat.
But the cavalrymen would not give them a chance, clinging tightly and relentlessly harvesting the lives of the orcs.
orc bodies were everywhere on the wilderness; the hundreds-strong Orc Boyz troop was reduced to less than half in an instant.
Just as Kazrelbat was preparing to press the advantage and completely annihilate these pursuers, a volley of "whoosh-whoosh-whoosh" arrow sounds suddenly came from the distance.
His heart jolted, and he looked up to see hundreds of hobgoblin archers rushing towards them in the night, nocking and drawing their bows as they ran, their poisoned arrows raining down on the cavalry troop like black raindrops.
"Watch out for the arrow rain!" Kazrelbat shouted, swinging his longsword to block the incoming arrows.
A cavalryman failed to dodge in time and was struck in the shoulder by an arrow.
The poison took effect instantly; he screamed as he fell from his horse, convulsing, and soon breathed his last.
The hobgoblin archers ran incredibly fast, quickly closing in.
They split into two teams, occupying the high ground on both sides, continuously shooting arrows at the cavalry troop.
The poisoned arrows were incredibly potent; a hit, even a graze, would quickly lead to death by poisoning.
The cavalrymen had to deal with the remaining Orc Boyz while also dodging the arrow rain, immediately falling into a passive state.
"Boss! We've come to save you!" The hobgoblin archers' boss roared, directing his subordinates to keep shooting arrows, covering the retreat of the remaining Orc Boyz.
Seeing this, the Orc Boyz boss quickly led his remaining brothers, scrambling and rolling towards Ravenholt under the cover of the arrow rain, not forgetting to curse: "Human goblins! Just you wait! We'll be back! WAAAGH!"
Kazrelbat looked at the fleeing orcs, his eyes filled with unwillingness.
He knew that pursuing them further now would only lead to greater casualties—the hobgoblin archers had the advantage of terrain, and their arrow rain was dense; the cavalrymen simply couldn't get close.
Reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and ordered: "Stop the pursuit! Retreat immediately! Get out of the orcs' range as quickly as possible!"
The cavalrymen responded, blocking the arrow rain as they slowly retreated, continuing their escape towards Vireport.
Seeing the cavalry retreat, the hobgoblin archers did not pursue rashly, but continued to shoot arrows to cover the Orc Boyz's retreat back to Ravenholt, stopping their firing only when the cavalry troop completely disappeared into the night.
On the wilderness, only bodies remained—human cavalry, Orc Boyz, innocent townspeople—piled up in layers, blood soaking the earth, emitting a nauseating stench.
The night remained thick, as if to devour all the sin and bloodshed on this land.
Kazrelbat rode his warhorse, leading the remaining cavalry, struggling through the night.
He looked back in the direction of Ravenholt, his eyes filled with cold killing intent and deep apprehension—these orcs were far more troublesome than he had imagined.
And this war, clearly, had only just begun; more brutal battles awaited them.
On the walls of Ravenholt, Kurzadh looked at the returning hobgoblin archers and the remaining Orc Boyz, not showing any displeasure, but rather a playful smile.
He patted the blood-stained shoulder of the Orc Boyz boss and said gruffly: "Don't be so quick to get angry, the human cavalry won't escape.
This hunt has only just gotten interesting."
The orcs' roars once again echoed on the city walls, filled with bloodthirsty excitement and arrogance, lingering long in the night.