Chapter 199: The Fish Has Taken the Bait

The sky was like a child throwing a tantrum, sometimes angry, sometimes happy, unpredictable, as if teasing the people below. Clearly, the bright sun was shining high just a moment ago, but in the blink of an eye, those gray clouds covered the sun’s brilliance. The ensuing drizzle continued to fall endlessly, giving people the feeling that it would never stop.

The spring rain rustled as it came into contact with objects on the earth; those crystal-clear raindrops were like pearls with broken strings, sprinkling all over the leaves and branches of the poplar trees on both sides of the road. The poplars seemed to have opened their mouths wide, greedily sucking in the sweet dew bestowed by nature, and the spring rain seemed exceptionally generous, falling even more merrily.

Hiren rode his beloved horse back and forth, patrolling the convoy. The south wind, coming from the ocean and carrying the breath of spring, blew through his hair. After the weather warmed up, the swallows returning to the north flew back and forth among the tree branches, and the air was filled with their twittering sounds.

The newly grown green grass by the roadside lay softly on the ground with a smiling look, as if whispering sweet love words to the small yellow flowers of the bowing dandelions.

This was the road from Bolerum Territory to House Cranston, and George and his group were now on their way to his first blind date of the year. Following the meeting with Miss Markin last year, the ensuing events had been somewhat overwhelming for George. For this reason, George also had sufficient excuses to constantly put off Viscount Bolerum with delaying tactics.

However, in order to achieve certain tactical purposes now, George had to go against his heart and actively travel to fulfill his identity obligations. The night before last, during the negotiation process with Val, the two had a dispute regarding where to go.

George hoped to go to the West family, because as far as the current situation was concerned, Clematis Nephton West was his most suitable marriage partner. As for Cecilia Pasqual Cranston, whom he had met while garrisoning the border in Brandenburg. Not to mention other matters of interest, her previous actions alone forced George to rule her out.

In fact, after this battle, although that young lady could not be said to have lost all reputation among the nobles of Nohan. But she would never be the first choice for other nobles to marry. The best result waiting for her should be to marry a certain Knight in the Territory! At the very least, after marriage, she could live comfortably relying on her maiden family’s relatively high status. If she were to marry a noble who could only choose her to make do for personal reasons, then it would be really hard to say how her days would be afterwards.

To some extent, that guy ‘Ben’ seemed to have harmed the other party. But if it weren’t for ‘Ben’, that tomboy in her flowering season might have lost her life. Now she was just paying the due price for her previous actions.

Of course, if the scale of the Barbarians’ southern invasion this year hadn’t suddenly become so large, the probability of her being discovered would still have been very small. However, things had already happened, and besides blaming bad luck, one could only blame that young girl for being too bold.

Since such a thing happened, George originally decided not to waste time meeting her. After all, after just taking over the new town, the affairs in the Territory were still quite complicated. George planned to directly send someone to Cranston to explain the reason, thinking that this should settle the matter. Because according to current traditions, House Cranston was originally in the wrong in this matter. George wanted to stop the matter at the right point, so that no one could say anything.

However, Val stopped him; Val insisted on his own point of view, that even if he wanted to refuse this time, he had to go there in person. Giving the other party enough respect was beneficial for the future interaction between the two families.

At the same time, there was another quite important point. Although there were large areas of forest cover in House Cranston’s Territory, the road there was flat. The West family’s Territory, however, was located among hills; if an ambush were encountered, the risks borne by the two were vastly different! But George was afraid that those rats in the dark might feel the chance of success was small. If they didn’t send anyone, then all his preparations would be in vain! Unfortunately, he still couldn’t twist his arm around Val, and stepped onto this path which seemed to have much less risk.

Suddenly, George’s gaze passed through the carriage window and discovered something unusual. Not far from the road, a farmer was cultivating in the field. Although this person was dressed like an ordinary villager, wearing a set of wrinkled black trousers and jacket, covered in stains, with the knees and cuffs worn shiny. But his whole body was covered with bulging muscles, which was not something an ordinary farmer of this era could possess.

More importantly, George’s eyes, sharper than an eagle’s, even at such a distance. Could still see that this person’s hands had protruding tendons, and the calluses on the web between the thumb and index finger did not look like those left by doing farm work. Most importantly, the look in his eyes when he turned his head to look at the convoy was not the curiosity or envy that ordinary people should have. Instead, he looked like a seasoned bandit with a fierce light in his eyes; that look of watching his prey was definitely not faked.

‘It looks like a fish has taken the bait, but why would the Evil Camp Church alliance send such a person to be a spy! This loophole is really too childish! Could this be a deliberate trick by the other side to show weakness to the enemy?’ A lot of content flashed through George’s mind.

When Hiren passed by George’s carriage window again, George whispered a sentence: “Get ready to fish.”

Hiren on horseback outside the carriage paused slightly, then pretended as if nothing had happened and continued his previous patrol.

Just after the tail of George’s convoy disappeared from the sight of that guy disguised as an old farmer. After waiting a while, he took out a cage from a small pile of grass beside him and opened it. A white pigeon just shot out of the birdcage, flapping its strong wings and flying into the sky.

After doing all this, the spy’s mouth corners raised slightly, revealing an imperceptible smile.

Lunchtime arrived quickly; the ten-plus carriages of Bolerum Territory coiled like long snakes, lying crookedly under the poplar trees. The sixty or seventy soldiers in the team sat in three or four circles, seemingly eating dry food. Except for the Guards responsible for standing sentry, most of the members were talking and laughing with the people beside them; the whole atmosphere was as relaxed as an outing in the suburbs.

But just then, smoke and dust kept rising from the grassland in the distance, as if something was approaching rapidly. That rumbling sound even shook the nearby earth as if it were swaying a bit.

The soldiers in the team who originally seemed a bit sparse standing around. Without anyone’s command, everyone spontaneously moved their feet a few times. Surprisingly, in an instant, in groups of three, they formed seven or eight triangular formations blocking the very front of that smoke and dust.

Very quickly, everyone finally saw the culprit causing the rising dust; it was many bulls charging head-on at George and his group. Sharp blades like short swords or daggers were tied to those bull horns. Green smoke was rising from the constantly swinging bull tails, with flickering firelight, sometimes bright, sometimes dim.

‘Unexpectedly, it’s the Fire Bull Formation! I didn’t expect that I, a Transmigrator, haven’t used this thing to deal with enemies yet, but I have to taste it myself first.’ George thought and couldn’t help feeling a bit amused.

But at this moment, a team of Adventurers who had very little presence along the way. Began to show their use, which was indeed worthy of the big bag of Gold Coins George had paid.

Lino Ebertz, who hid himself tightly with a cloak and hood, began to chant a spell in this sleep-inducing spring breeze. Immediately following, as a nearly imperceptible ball of light flew out, the color of a patch of grass on the bulls’ inevitable path seemed to become much more vivid than other places. However, this range could not completely block the herd.

For this reason, Lino Ebertz took out two Scrolls from his waist bag. After activating them one by one, that abnormally vivid lawn looked like a U-shaped horseshoe, forming a protective barrier in front of the team.

And when the herd entered that pre-arranged trap, just as George expected, they all slipped under their feet, and then fell into a heap. The bulls in front fell to the ground; some had their legs broken on the spot and could not move, while others seemed to want to struggle to stand up. However, their compatriots following closely behind gave a heavy blow to those who hadn’t been able to stand firm yet.

The bulls in the midst of their mad dash couldn’t stop their footsteps so easily; they quickly crashed into their fallen companions. And the sharp blades tied to the bull horns further stimulated the rage of the attacked. Under the triple pain of the burning heat at the tail, the blade wounds on the body, the falling, and the crashing. The already severely enraged herd completely lost their reason and began to kill each other.

Lino Ebertz used one of the most famous spells, Grease. This type of spell is divided into two kinds, visible and invisible; the former can show obvious spell traces, while the latter only reduces the friction of the target area without obvious signs. However, wanting the invisible type seemed to require the Spellcaster to pay some extra price. But for those mindless herds of bulls, there was no such need. Lino Ebertz naturally wouldn’t gild the lily.

However, regardless of which of the two. When passing through this area, most creatures would always slip under their feet and be unable to keep their balance. At this time, they were very susceptible to concentrated fire attacks from the other side. It can be said to be a cost-effective tactical spell on the battlefield; facing this kind of spell, if the situation permitted, the attacking side might as well lie down on the spot and crawl forward. In addition, the effect of this spell is only targeted at the ground; if you have confidence in your physical fitness, try jumping over. In fact, most well-trained elite cavalry, with good warhorses, could leap over a single casting of Grease. But in the ever-changing battlefield, wanting to truly achieve this was actually not that easy.

However, if the enemy was only those wild bulls, Lino Ebertz had just performed a standard academic response in front of everyone.

Just after breaking the charging bull herd, the main culprits who launched this attack felt a bit late. They came from all directions and surrounded George and his group tightly. In terms of number, they were at least five to six times that of George’s group.

From George’s point of view, although those guys’ equipment wasn’t very sophisticated, the combination was reasonable. As for strength! Their eyes and aura were considered not bad; they looked like seasoned bandits at the very least. The rest could only be known after fighting.

Perhaps feeling that their side had many people and strength, those guys felt that if they swarmed up, killing the hundred or so people in front of them would be like playing! Because according to their experience, as long as they showed overwhelming strength, at most killing thirty or forty people, the rest would naturally scatter like birds and beasts. In such a situation of tight encirclement, their mission target was absolutely unable to escape. This seemed to be the norm in the battlefields of this world.

“Line up, defensive formation!” With George’s command. Facing the enemies attacking from afar, the soldiers beside George seemed to have a dense aura like a copper wall and iron fortress, suddenly rising up. As if even if thousands of troops were in front, they were bound to smash into pieces in front of this wall!

“Archers, prepare! Free hunt!” Following George’s words falling, more than ten men who were originally hidden in the Wagons appeared one after another. The common characteristic of these hiders was that their eyes were clear and bright. Their hands were extremely long, their muscles knotted, and their upper bodies were obviously stronger than their lower bodies. And on their backs, there was a Composite Longbow!

In this environment where the enemy also possessed long-range weapons, they did not blindly seize the high ground. Instead, relying on the carriage as cover, they formed relatively safe fire points one by one.

Each shooter adjusted their mental state through even breathing, calmly and composedly raising the military Composite Longbow in their hands. The habitual hand wearing a Bronze thumb ring slowly pulled the bowstring, which was rewarded with an arrow, to full draw, aiming at the enemies not far away who were constantly approaching.

“Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!” sounds accompanied the bowstrings leaving the hands, and the “Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!” sounds of breaking air followed immediately after the flying arrows.

The distance of dozens of meters arrived in an instant. The wind-force refined iron arrowheads directly pierced the throats of more than ten enemies. The sudden attack made them unable to make any reaction, and they could only struggle feebly and fall down, unable to make any sound until death.

This almost fleeting attack caused the opponent’s momentum to drop. These people were the elites George selected from the army’s archers! If he hadn’t lent a batch of manpower to the Gnome Merchant Guild, the number here would be far more than this!

If it were the effect caused by one or two arrows, it could still be called a coincidence. But this kind of almost uniform action could not be underestimated for the psychological pressure it caused those attackers. However, such an attack was just a few waves raised in the flood-like enemies.

They accelerated their charging pace; after all, in their view, once close combat started, those sharpshooters would lose most of their effect. Soon, close combat began. Facing the enemies constantly pressing forward, the formation of George’s team was constantly being compressed.

But just when those foremost attackers passed through the foremost triangular formation. They discovered that the front, left, and right were actually all enemies. The Spears or Longswords on the side could take their lives at any time.

Because what they faced were the elites of the army! Well-trained hundred-battle elites! These were young and strong men armed to the teeth, with killing as their profession. They had crawled through places like the northern battlefield of Brandenburg, which was like a sea of blood. Although it couldn’t be said they were survivors of a hundred battles! But their wills were tempered as hard as refined iron! Facing such a small scene, each of them still held their posts.

After the opponent’s offensive slowed down, Hiren took the lead, rushing through the formation to kill at the very front. As the saying goes, soldiers are the courage of the general, and the general is the soul of the soldiers; at this time, he obviously could not retreat. If he didn’t take the lead to establish authority, then on what grounds should he let the people behind him sell their lives for him? Moreover, on the battlefield, ordinary soldiers relied more on the formation and cooperation with each other; they talked about one slash, moving forward indomitably, directly determining life and death! Once the formation was disrupted, the stalemate in front of them might collapse because of this.

Drawing out the Star-Iron Longsword at his waist, amidst sharp war cries, Hiren slashed his blade horizontally at the nearest attacker. With a cruel and swift upward slash, at the instant of cutting into the opponent’s waist and abdomen, Hiren lightly shook his right arm to raise the blade tip; the metal steel slice directly followed the gap between the ribs, piercing deep into the chest cavity. That unlucky guy widened his bull-like eyes, trembling as he spat out blood foam, then fell onto the ground covered with corpses.

“The first one!” Hiren shouted loudly while turning his body sideways. He made his waist and abdomen burst with force like a tightened spring, smashing the Longsword toward his side and back, erupting a piercing crashing sound with the ambusher’s blade. Spots of blood suddenly leaped out from the dead body, splashing open steeply along with the swinging of the blood groove.

“Damn guy, you’re next!” The hot flow constantly gushing from the heart constantly transmitted the feeling named power to the gap of every muscle; Hiren roared as he pressed over with the strong sword body, using pure power to destroy, to kill!

The opponent’s Scimitar was easily twisted, and became more and more testing the limit of the metal. From the change in the opponent’s face from surprise to fear, Hiren tried his best to control his killing pleasure and bursting bloodthirsty impulse, so as not to let himself fall into the evil path.

“Get lost!” At least twice the power of the opponent directly impacted. Hiren roughly swung his arms; this was like the absolute violence of a sledgehammer, flying the Scimitar away along the cracked web between the thumb and index finger. Blood light flashed, and the double-edged sword directly cut off that guy’s neck, chopping off his dirty head.

Turning the double-edged Longsword in his hand into a violent whirlwind, Hiren chased after the figures that stood out in the crowd of attackers, carrying out that seemingly never-ending attack.

The thick spine of the sword issued a sharp sound of splitting wind, occasionally the harsh scraping sound on the Breastplate, or the roaring crashing sound when weapons intersected. That circle surrounding Hiren formed a series of hurricanes of metal and blades, grinding any approaching outsiders into powder.

At this time, Hiren was like a ferocious beast on the battlefield; on every sword he swung, there was faintly the sound of wind and thunder. With a casual flash of sword light, an attacker located to his rear left immediately let out a muffled groan. Although he was only grazed by the sword body, that guy was considered to have barely blocked it. But he staggered back several steps. Blood was already overflowing from his mouth; the crescent Scimitar used to parry was also broken in the middle, and the web between his thumb and index finger was severely torn, with blood spurting out.

This was the suppression of absolute strength; Hiren, who had become a Formal Knight, was not so much fighting as he was mowing grass like an unrivaled warrior.