“General, the breakout failed, we were beaten back.”
In Wolf Den Valley, a deputy officer covered in blood returned and gasped to Maclean Lyons.
Maclean Lyons didn’t speak, his face gloomy.
He had thought that they wouldn’t be able to break out, that the God of War wouldn’t let them go.
“But, general, a few people managed to break out successfully, there is still hope.” The deputy officer said again.
“What!”
Maclean Lyons’ face changed: “Quickly, seal the news, don’t let anyone know that there’s a possibility of breaking out.”
“General, it’s too late, many people already know, I heard it from them.”
The deputy officer was stunned and didn’t understand.
“Ah, the strategy of attacking the heart, this God of War of Kisia, how does he know everything.”
Maclean Lyons sighed.
He was at his wit’s end.
“If one person can’t break through, we can still fight to the death, still maintain our spirit. But if a few manage to escape, providing everyone with the knowledge that there’s hope for survival, then the will to fight to the death will be lost,” Maclean Lyons sighed heavily. There was another reason he didn’t voice.
He had planned to order his soldiers to launch a suicidal charge, to deplete this thirty-thousand-strong army on the battlefield. In that case, once all the soldiers had fallen, he could commit suicide too, no longer being a burden to the South Land army.
But now, allowing someone to break through, not everyone in the army is a fool. Some are clever and would naturally see through it. Once they escape, they will widely discuss his actions, his ordering of soldiers to suicide. Then, similarly, the morale of the South Land army will be greatly shaken.
Now, he truly had a headache.
“General, what should we do now?” his lieutenant asked again.
“Wait, wait for reinforcements,” Maclean Lyons had no other choice.
If it were just him, he would commit suicide to avoid dragging South Land’s retreat. But there were so many soldiers; if he took his own life, what would happen to them? So, he could only wait.
But waiting meant falling into their trap, being used as bait, waiting for reinforcements. He was truly drained.
At that moment, Pierre Calder, situated to the east, received the news. They had been fooled. His previous caution and preparation against the notorious Kisia War God had been their downfall.
He had been fully alert, even requesting an additional two hundred thousand soldiers to fight. Five hundred thousand, the main force of the South Land army, to deal with this Kisia War God.
But who could have anticipated that it was a trap? Their cautious mentality had been deliberately exploited.
Had he been slightly more rash initially, he might have discovered that it was just a small troop, avoiding this major disaster and preventing Lord Lyons from being trapped.
“What’s next?” a nearby lieutenant cautiously asked.
“Call in reinforcements, head to the west, St. Sunday. That’s an order from above,” Pierre Calder said through gritted teeth.
He had been outmaneuvered this time. As an officer who had followed Lord Whiteford through countless battles, he had been tricked.
The worst part was that even if he rushed there now, it would be of little use. Three days, three days’ time, the thirty-thousand-strong army and Lord Lyons were probably on their last breaths. The majority were likely dead, and their morale and prestige would surely suffer a huge blow.
He knew that if they rushed out now, it would only be for show.
Our side has not abandoned Lord Lyons and his thirty-thousand-strong army. But it’s too late. No matter what, they had suffered a major loss this time.
The Kisia War God, truly living up to his reputation, had completely outsmarted them.
“Retreat, hurry to the west, to St. Sunday Valley of Wolf,” Pierre Calder immediately ordered.
And in this battlefield, thirty miles away, there was a hundred-thousand-strong South Land army, surrounding some remnants.
“How many of us are left?”
Aaron Valkins, covered in blood and having lost an eye, asked his lieutenant. He had tied a cloth around his head, hastily bandaging the wound. It was obvious how much pain he was in, but Aaron Valkins still laughed loudly.
“Report, there are eight hundred left,” the lieutenant replied.
“Eight hundred! From our original six thousand, we’re down to eight hundred. Brothers, I ask you, do you regret it?” Aaron Valkins asked his brothers.
“No regrets.”
“No regrets.”
“No regrets.”
Many brothers roared in response.
“Ha, worthy of being my brothers. We, the Ghost Wolf Cavalry, are all elite soldiers, but only our sixth squad, is the elite among elites. Our six thousand men held off five hundred thousand. Yet we must continue to hold them, born to fight, rest only in death!” Aaron Valkins roared with fury.
“Born to fight, rest only in death!”
A murderous aura emanated from every man.
Below, the one hundred-thousand-strong South Land army preparing for the attack could only look on in awe. What kind of unit was this? They had been fighting for so long, yet the soldiers remained so fierce.
“Sir, the atmosphere above is still aggressive. Should we continue to attack?” asked a deputy.
In truth, he did not want to attack anymore. This was just a small unit of the Ghost Wolf Cavalry, only a few thousand strong. Still, they had been giving them a hard time, making them look like fools. Their many losses were due to the overwhelming force they had used against this small group.
They had lost over forty thousand soldiers, just to take down a few thousand. The fighting power of this small unit was stunning.
“No. We can’t give up,” the South Land officer shook his head. “We’ve come this far, it would be a waste to give up now. We need to kill these people to face off against the main force of the Ghost Wolf Cavalry. This was the strategy we set.”
Previously, they had chosen a cautious approach, since they were dealing with the notorious Kisia War God, known as ‘The Butcher’. So, they had only brought about one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers to deal with this rear-guard small unit.
The remaining three hundred thousand of their main force were still resting, gathering their strength for the final fight. Their main task right now was to eliminate this small rear-guard unit.
“Yes, sir,” the deputy left.
Immediately, they charged again. As their numbers were dwindling, all hundred thousand soldiers were sent to fight. Despite the fierce fighting power of the Ghost Wolf Cavalry, they were finally outnumbered.
“How many of us are left?” asked Aaron Valkins, covered in blood.
“Report, the deputy has fallen, we… we have three hundred left,” replied a soldier, his voice hoarse.
“Left with three hundred men, ha-ha, brothers, it’s my honor to go to the underworld with you. For Kisia, for our glory, follow me for one last charge,” Aaron Valkins cried out.
The final charge was like a long sword.
“Heh, fools, a suicidal charge,” the commander sneered when he saw this. But then, an aide arrived, “Report, headquarters orders everyone to retreat to St. Sunday. This is a command.”