Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 361: Chapter 30: Crossing the Field in Vain_2

Sergei, who had run a few meters away, turned back, picked up Michel, and ran toward the spot on the shore where the horses were tied.

“Mount up! Mount up!” Old Sergei shouted as he ran, with the Dusacks in the river channel dashing towards their warhorses.

Several coachmen lashed their draft horses desperately, trying to force their way through the ford. Others, in their panic, attempted to turn around but found themselves immobilized.

Inside the ford at that moment, chaos reigned; only a few coachmen and laborers jumped onto their carts in search of weapons, while the rest fled.

The sound of bowstrings vibrating came from the shrubs on both sides of the riverbank, accompanied by the “whoosh” of arrows flying chaotically over the water’s surface.

“Archers!” someone screamed in agony.

“There are crossbowmen in the woods!” another shouted loud.

A coachman had just found a longbow under the seat, and before he could string it, a short, thick crossbow bolt penetrated his neck. This brave man of Wolf Town clutched at his neck and tumbled into the knee-deep river water off the cart.

Sergei pointed towards both banks of the river and bellowed, “More thieves are coming!”

Pierre saw bandits, armed and in tattered clothes, crawling out from the bushes, too numerous to count.

Some bandits ran toward the great carts to plunder the various fine goods brought back from Revodan. Others went after the Dusacks’ warhorses tied up on the shore—horses were even more valuable.

Still other bandits specifically chased after and captured those well-dressed riders. They were manor lords, who not only carried large sums but could also be kidnapped for ransom.

Even well-trained armies could struggle to organize an effective counterattack when ambushed, let alone the Wolf Town convoy, most of whom were just tenant farmers.

In the midst of the melee, the command structures of both sides had collapsed.

But the bandits had a clear objective: they wanted money, goods, and would kill anyone who resisted. Their determination was stronger.

The people of Wolf Town, however, were utterly disorganized, each fighting for themselves, each with their own plans, with only a few brave souls attempting to fight back.

But when most were fleeing, the brave became the most conspicuous targets, often being killed by the bandits in a concerted effort.

The attention of many bandits was drawn to Sergei’s warhorse, Red Sun, and several brutes with long spears had already reached its side.

In desperation, Sergei let go of Pierre and with a roar, lunged at the spear-wielding brutes.

“Ah!” The thug lagging behind was caught off guard and was fiercely hacked on the shoulder by Old Dusack.

Sergei kicked aside the thug whose shoulder was nearly severed, not giving the dying man a second glance. He swung his saber and charged at several other bandits.

Although Pierre had grown up on stories of war, he never expected his uncle, well into his fifties, to be so ferocious.

Clenching his teeth against the pain, he picked up a long spear dropped by a thug and charged into the fray.

The bandits, hearing their companion’s screams, turned and saw Old Dusack coming at them, thrusting their spears toward the old man.

Seizing the moment, Sergei grabbed the spear with his left hand, holding it firmly. He yanked it towards himself and hacked the enemy to death with his sword.

But outnumbered, Sergei could not fend off all attacks; while grabbing one spear and killing its owner, another bandit with a spear yelled strangely and jabbed at Old Dusack.

Just as the bandit was about to strike, he was skewered in the flank by Pierre, who had caught up. He fell to the ground, and Old Dusack, turning around, delivered a heavy, powerful chop that cut the bandit’s head off.

The remaining two bandits, petrified by the god-like slaughter by Old Dusack, dropped their weapons and fled in terror.

Sergei quickly helped Pierre onto Red Sun: “Go! Get on behind! Find your father!”

“I’m not leaving!” Pierre yelled.

Old Dusack had no time for words: “Not leaving? If you won’t leave, stay and fight. Follow me along the shore and let’s take care of those archers and crossbowmen!”

The scales of victory had completely tipped in favor of the bandits, turning the situation into a one-sided slaughter.

The archers on the shore shot at the people of Wolf Town with impunity, while the bandits in the ford chased after coachmen. The Dusacks fought for themselves, and those who had reclaimed their horses fled towards the front and back of the convoy.

Some manor lords, in a blind panic, ran toward the forest, unaware that they were falling into bandits’ traps. There was a sliver of a chance of survival if one dashed down the road, but fleeing into the forest was like walking into a net.

At this point, anyone still thinking of resisting felt only a profound sense of helplessness and despair.

An old coachman with graying hair scrambled to the riverbank and stumbled toward Wolf Town.

The pursuing bandit bellowed viciously, “Stop running! Run again, and I’ll kill you!”

The coachman, in terror, turned to look at the bandit and, losing his footing, fell hard to the ground. Unable to stand for a while, he was overtaken by the laughing bandit.

“Please, don’t!” The old coachman knelt on the ground, begging pitifully.

The bandit walked up, kicked the old man in the stomach, causing him to curl up in pain like a shrimp.

However, as if born without a shred of compassion, the bandit planted a foot on the old man’s chest, grinning wickedly as he raised his spear.

The old coachman closed his eyes.

The thunderous sound of galloping hooves approached; a rider arrived instantaneously beside the coachman and the bandit. A scimitar whirled, severing the bandit’s neck and spear shaft in one stroke.

The warhorse continued at full speed toward the ford, without slowing down.

Following the leading rider, more Dusacks, brandishing their sabers, swept past the headless corpse of the bandit and the old coachman.

A thunderous shout exploded in the ford, startling everyone and causing their hearts to stop for a moment.

Even the convoy hundreds of meters behind heard the angry roar; those within the ford were left dizzy and ringing from the blast of sound.@@novelbin@@

A magnificent silver-gray warhorse stood atop the riverbank, and everyone in the ford saw it, as well as the rider upon it.

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