I was a knight in the Middle Ages

Chapter 470 Bloody Canyon

The morning light was like a rusty, blunt knife, slowly and laboriously cutting through the thick night sky and piercing obliquely into the tent.

The air was filled with the sickening smell of powder and the pungent smell of blood, which intertwined and made people feel hallucinogenic.

Captain Stanford suddenly sat up from the camp bed, his brows furrowed and his face full of disgust.

He roughly pushed away the two disheveled, still sleeping women on his body. They rolled to the ground like broken rag dolls, uttering faint moans.

"Damn you, you bunch of trash!" Stanford's roar rang out in the tent like thunder, causing pain in everyone's eardrums.

"You only cleared three meters of this crossing in one night? What's the point of keeping you?" Stanford kicked over the copper basin beside him, splashing water and leaving dark marks on the mud.

A centurion stood in the middle of the tent, his posture straight, but he could not hide the fatigue and anxiety on his face.

etc.

The centurion took a deep breath and said, "Captain, we have launched three attacks. Each time, the enemy's arrows poured down like a rainstorm, and we couldn't get close at all. Our brothers suffered heavy casualties, but we will never give up. Prepare for another round of attacks!"

There was a burning fighting spirit in his eyes, which was the desire for victory and the commitment to his comrades.

Stanford stared at the Centurion, a hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes, and then he sneered: "Let forward Andilo go with you."

When he mentioned the name, his tone was filled with disgust and disappointment.

Because of Andilo's wrong decision, Stanford has lost three thousand soldiers, but there is still no hope of victory in this damn battle.

Even though Andilo had followed him for many years, at this moment, Stanford decided to give up on him.

"Yes, Captain!" The centurion breathed a sigh of relief. When he walked out of the tent, his palms were already full of sweat.

As long as you can come back alive, there is still hope.

The sun shone on the earth. The Centurion looked at the canyon in the distance, thinking about how to use the light of day to carefully approach the enemy area.

The two teams of a hundred men stepped into the canyon as if they were stepping into a huge tomb.

It was eerily quiet all around, with only the occasional whimpering of the wind, like the whispers of the dead.

On the hillsides on both sides, the crossbow carts were like dormant beasts, with cold crossbow arrows pointing straight down, emitting a terrifying breath of death.

The soldiers' footsteps unconsciously became heavy, and every step seemed to be stepping on their own heartbeats.

In the canyon, one night seems like a long century.

The wounded were lying on the ground in all directions. Most of them were already dead. Their bodies were beginning to stiffen and flies were circling over them.

Of the remaining wounded, half were struggling on the brink of life and death, with empty and lifeless eyes;

Although the other half temporarily survived the critical period, he was too weak to move.

Andilo stood in front of the team, his face as gloomy as iron.

The successive failures had made his nerves extremely tense, and any slight disturbance would make him break into a cold sweat.

"These people are all disguised as enemies. We can't let our guard down!" Andilo shouted at the top of his lungs, "Kill all living creatures in sight, even dead ones! We must stab them!"

The blade fell mercilessly, and the knight, who was still alive, let out a shrill scream.

Their eyes were filled with despair and confusion. They thought they would be rescued, but they didn't expect to be slaughtered by their own people.

The screams echoed in the canyon, waking up the wounded in the rear.

"Look! These enemies are pretending to be dead bodies and intend to murder us." Andilo laughed loudly, as if his judgment was absolutely correct.

However, he did not see that the flames of hatred were burning in the eyes of the wounded who were not yet dead.

They dragged their broken bodies and used all their strength to crawl towards the reins that controlled the crossbow cart little by little.

They knew that as long as they touched the rope, they would be able to activate the trap above and avenge themselves and their dead comrades.

The crisp sound of dead branches breaking in the Blood Gorge suddenly pierced the silence. A soldier's ankle was caught by the gravel and he fell heavily into a pool of blood.

His panicked palm happened to press on the dilated pupils of a corpse. Sticky eye fluid seeped out through his fingers, mixed with blood and formed horrible lines on the palm of his hand.

This sudden change made the team freeze in an instant, and everyone's breathing stagnated for a moment.

Andilo suddenly drew out his sword, pointing the tip of the sword directly at the twitching soldier on the ground: "You pretentious bastard!"

A cold light flashed, and warm blood splashed on his wristband, winding along the bronze lines to form a twisted totem.

The dying man let out an indistinct whimper from his throat, and his fingers scratched five deep grooves in the mud before finally falling down helplessly.

"Speed ​​up!" Andilo hit the shield with the bloody back of his sword. The sound of metal collision startled the crows perched on the cliff.

A black flock of birds fluttered up, covering half the sky, and their feathers fell on the soldiers' shoulders like snowflakes.

At this moment, a slight creaking sound of wood was heard from the hillside on the right - the moss-covered crossbow cart was turning slowly, and the rusty gears were groaning like they were dying.

"Hide!" Before the centurion's roar ended, three crossbow arrows came flying through the air.

The soldier in the front row was pierced through the chest and flew backwards like a puppet with its strings cut, pinned to the rock wall behind him.

Immediately afterwards, more crossbows were triggered and arrows poured down like a swarm of locusts.

In a panic, Andilo staggered and bumped into the shield bearer beside him. The two fell into the pile of wounded. The sharp arrowheads brushed past the helmets, and sparks flew on the rock wall.

"It's those damn enemies, they are hiding among the corpses!" Andilo suddenly found that not far away, half of the broken arm was pulling the reins tightly.

He was furious and swung his sword to cut off the hand, but at the moment when he saw blood splattering, he heard the roar of chains falling to the ground from the deeper canyon.

Cracks appeared on the cliffs on both sides at the same time, and dozens of giant boulders wrapped in animal skins rolled down, and the gusts of air they created knocked over the nearest soldiers.

The centurion saw in the rain of rubble that the wounded who should have died were rising from pools of blood.

They bit the reins with their teeth, activated the mechanisms with their broken limbs, and the fire of revenge was reflected in their cloudy eyes.

When the rolling stone was about to crush him, he suddenly remembered the deputy general who died in the battle last night. Before he died, the man held his hand tightly, and blood gurgled in his throat, but he was still muttering: "Asshole... comrade..."

Before his last consciousness faded, the centurion saw the tragic scene of Andilo being crushed into a meat pie by rolling stones, while deep in the canyon, the enemy's flag was slowly rising towards the bloody sun.

As dusk dyed the outline of Eagle's Beak Cliff into iron gray, Stanford's boots rolled heavily over Andilo's twisted body.

The rotten flesh and gravel made a teeth-grinding squeezing sound under the soles of the boots, and the splattering blood foam drew strange arcs in the scarlet sunset.

The battle-hardened commander suddenly tore off his blood-stained iron mask, revealing two veins twisted by rage.

"What on earth happened?" His roar made the shields in the hands of the soldiers behind him buzz.

Yesterday, he personally pushed Andilo to the front line where he was bound to die - the old follower who had followed him from the slums, the loyal servant who would always warm his wine for him late at night even though he couldn't even lift a shield.

At this moment, the face that was crushed by the boulder only had half of its cloudy eye still staring at him, as if questioning this absurd sacrifice.

Stanford gripped the lion-head hilt at his waist, the metal guard digging deep into his palm.

He knew very well that those who were killed this time were just some bandit knights who were temporarily recruited from various places, but Andilo's death was like a poisoned thorn that pierced his deliberately numb heart.

Memories surged like a tide: when they huddled in the alley and shared moldy bread, Andillo always gave him the fullest piece;

Later, when Stanford captured the city, the old follower was the first to put on a cloak embroidered with lion patterns for him.

"Keep attacking!" Stanford suddenly kicked the broken sword at his feet. The crisp sound of metal hitting the ground startled the crows on the cliff.

His deliberately lowered voice could not hide the tremor in his throat. The commander also realized at this moment that the enemy was not a lamb to be slaughtered, but a tiger and a lion.

The centurions exchanged meaningful glances, and the shield array began to move slowly at a speed visible to the naked eye.

When the moonlight climbed up the Eagle's Beak Cliff, the army had advanced less than three miles.

The stones kicked up deliberately by the soldiers kept rolling down the ravine, causing waves of bluffing shouts.

At dawn on the third day, the first ray of sunlight broke through the morning mist.

When the vanguard troops finally reached the top of the mountain, the smell of rotten pine wood mixed with thick gunpowder smoke hit them in the face.

The arrow walls that frightened them were nothing more than scarecrows made of thatch. Wooden frames wrapped in animal skins swayed in the wind, like a group of mocking ghosts.

Stanford's cloak fluttered in the mountain breeze. He looked at the empty camp and suddenly let out a roar like a trapped beast.

"Chase! Don't leave any one alive!" But the captain's trembling fingertips revealed the truth - the shame of being teased made him more nervous than he had imagined.

As the setting sun dyed the Gobi Desert bloody, the sound of Quintiles' cavalry hooves tore through the hot air.

The blood-soaked messenger dismounted from his horse, sweat forming strange lines on his blood-stained breastplate. "Lord Alpha! The pursuers behind us are less than fifty miles away. They will catch up with our rear team by dusk!"

The moment the dust spread over his combat boots, Alpha's gilded visor flashed a cold light.

His eyes passed the messenger and stared at the mining city that was looming thirty miles away.

The black smoke rising from there was burning the clouds, and the explosions coming from underground mixed with wailing created a teeth-grinding resonance across the Gobi Desert.

"Mashu, lead the Raven Squad to infiltrate the mining city and conduct reconnaissance." Alpha's voice was shrouded in ice. "I want to know the defense of the city walls, the morale of the defenders, and..."

Alpha suddenly stopped and looked at the refugees fleeing with their families in the distance.

On those faces burned by the flames of war, fear and despair were condensed into substance, and even the raised dust carried a pungent smell of blood.

The bronze horn suddenly blew, and Alpha's black iron heavy cavalry formed a battle formation.

The blue battle flag of the Knights of the Hague fluttered in the wind, and the emblem embroidered with a trident glowed coldly in the sun.

This force disguised as the Maritime Alliance sailed into the center of the storm in the afterglow of the setting sun.

When they were only ten kilometers away from the mining town, three cavalry units suddenly emerged from behind the sand dunes.

The leading knight’s armor was condensed with dark red blood scabs, and the flail in his hand was still dripping with mucus: “Which branch are you from? Do you want to take him to a military court for not helping him?”

His roar startled a group of vultures, and a foul smell wrapped in sand blew towards them.

"The Fifth Fleet of the Knights of the Hague." Alpha's fingers were bulging with veins as he pressed on the hilt of the sword, and his eyes under the gilded visor were as sharp as an eagle.

However, the other party suddenly burst into laughter, and the flail slammed heavily on the sand: "The Fifth Fleet is protecting ships on the Eastern Front. You fake guys want to take advantage of it? Get back to the sea immediately!"

The Gobi wind suddenly became biting.

Alpha's peripheral vision swept around - smoke and dust were rising in the northwest, and reflective armor was vaguely visible on the ridge in the southeast.

Once exposed, they would be crushed into powder on the Gobi Desert by these cavalrymen.

"Withdraw, eastward." Alpha's order was as low as thunder.

The heavy cavalry phalanx slowly turned, and the dust it raised obscured the setting sun.

The pursuers laughed wildly from behind: "Look at these cowards! They even dared to disobey the marshal's orders just to grab the credit!"

The dusk was like thick ink, completely engulfing the vast Gobi Desert.

Mashu was wrapped in a blood-stained cloak, and the dust raised by her horse's hooves left a winding trail behind her. She only reined in her horse suddenly in front of the tent.

When he rolled over and landed on the ground, the bronze wrist guard collided with the hilt of the sword, making a clear sound, as if foreshadowing the coming storm.

"Sir, the mining city is like a cage where beasts are trapped." Mashu knelt on one knee, her breath beneath the mask smelling of rust.

"The ore dock in the south city is filled with smoke, the smelter in the east city has become a sea of ​​fire, the enemy's scimitars have reached the north city wall, and every inch of the alley is flowing with blood." Mashu clenched the short blade at her waist, her knuckles turning white due to the force.

On the chariot, Alpha leaned against the tactical sand table inlaid with obsidian, and his gilded armor glowed coldly under the candlelight.

His slender fingers were sliding along the winding trade routes on the map, as if the approaching enemy marks were just a few grains of sand on the sand table.

"Continue eastward." There was no trace of emotion in the hoarse voice, as if he was talking about tomorrow's breakfast.

Darwin stood up suddenly, the handsome magician's eyes were red: "Lord Alpha! There are our compatriots in that city! When the mine collapsed..."

Darwin's accusations came to an abrupt end because Alpha suddenly turned around, and the flickering candlelight was reflected in his ice-blue pupils, like two clusters of cold stars that would never go out.

"Three thousand people can't even block the gap in the city wall." Alpha's voice seemed to come from deep in the frozen earth.

"Do you think you can cut the gears of fate by swinging your sword? It is never flesh and blood that can save the mining city." Alpha's fingertips slid across the strategic roads on the map. "If the outer throat is cut off, even the strongest fortress will suffocate and die."

War horses neighed outside the tent. Alpha suddenly tore open his cloak, revealing the imperial emblem embroidered on the lining: "Change the flag, raise the crescent flag of the Ottoman Empire."

This statement stunned everyone present - that was the most mysterious force in the Maritime Alliance. Legend has it that their cavalry had never set foot on a land battlefield.

Quintai stood up silently and accepted the order. When the silent flag bearer took over the blood-stained flag, he finally couldn't help but speak: "Sir, the Ottoman eagle never touches the smoke of the ground. Will this attract the attention of the enemy?"

"That's exactly why." Alpha raised his hand and pressed the hilt of the mithril sword at his waist. The sharp blade was three inches out of the sheath, reflecting the strange curve at the corner of his mouth.

"When the new moon appears on the horizon, those jackals will think that the Empire's punitive army has arrived. Fear is sometimes sharper than thousands of troops." Alpha raised the corners of his mouth, as if he was sure of victory.

When the black flag embroidered with the star and moon totems rose in the twilight, exclamations came one after another from afar.

The enemy troops that had been pouring towards the mining city like a tide suddenly slowed down their offensive, and torches flickered in the night like startled fireflies.

They didn't know that behind this flag was a group of desperate soldiers who were betting their last chips on a slim hope.