Chapter 1424 - 765: Welcome to... Hell! (2)

Chapter 1424: Chapter 765: Welcome to... Hell! (2)

The commander from the farm wasn’t surprised that Hamlet had the capability to deal with those traps. Disabling the traps wasn’t surprising, but how was it so precise?

This doesn’t seem right...

Once suspicion arises, it becomes an unstoppable force that corrodes their hearts. Only a select few have access to the defense map, and the culprit might be among them!

"The power of this world is not that simple, there’s nothing unusual about it."

A Knight spoke, reminding everyone of the existence of supernatural power. If that were the case, it would indeed be possible. Hamlet’s rapid recovery from downfall should not be separated from supernatural power.

Could it really be as the rumors say, that within the ruins lies the treasure of the Ancient Empire? That the dark power is the force unleashed by a Divine Artifact?

For common people who could barely get enough to eat or wear, pursuing basic living conditions and becoming a noble was their lifelong luxury.

But for these Knights who lived a life of plenty, their pursuits were on a higher level, seeking stronger power and authority was their desire.

Perhaps just by defeating Hamlet, they could seize their secrets... for a moment, this became an unspoken ambition among them.

"My lord! They’re attacking!"

Hamlet’s Army wouldn’t give them time for fantasies, as they dismantled traps, the simply modified shield wagon was pushed forward.

The so-called shield wagon was basically a logistics cart with several wooden boards, covered with wet burlap. Although not freezing into ice in the cold wind, it could still protect against arrows and fire.

The Knights quickly looked out and saw that the opposing side had already pushed carts to the front, their expressions tightened as they quickly shouted.

"Quick, quick, quick! Crossbowmen, shoot! Don’t let them get close!"

They were tense not out of panic, but having clashed before, they knew what these contraptions represented.

The real terror wasn’t the shield wagons, but what hid behind them—soldiers and numerous mortars being pushed forward...

This time, Hamlet deployed a hundred artillery pieces, of which eighty were cannons, and the remaining twenty were mortars.

Along the way, it was mostly the mortars being used, as most battles were sieges, hardly any field battles, and even in smaller skirmishes, before adjusting the artillery, it was over.

So, those Knights were well aware of the destructive power of mortar shells, prompting them to start rearranging their formations.

"Assemble those longbowmen, quickly!"

"Order the others to spread out, take cover in the buildings, and hit the ground if encountered."

"Archers, prepare to shoot arrows!"

Don’t think these Knights were truly foolish, they had witnessed the devastating power of the artillery, and realized that its range was only a hundred yards, so to counter it, only longbowmen could do.

Compared to the now-popular musket, with an effective range of a hundred yards, maximum at one hundred fifty yards, firing two to three shots a minute, the heavy arrows of a longbow could even pierce knight armor, thus, in this era, the longbow remained a formidable weapon of war.

But not everyone could be a longbowman. Those serfs couldn’t even draw a longbow, only those trained from a young age, with proper nutrition, could endure the training.

Practicing archery required arrows, which were consumables, and even though practice arrows could be reused, they still wore out.

More importantly, this profession required talent, raising the threshold further.

The effective range of ordinary short bows and crossbows was about fifty yards; they could shoot a hundred yards, but the force was gone, and the accuracy was uncontrollable.

Only longbows could shoot beyond a hundred yards, with a terrifying effective range of three hundred yards at a forty-five-degree trajectory, and a skilled archer could shoot six arrows a minute.

Currently, the entire territory of the Baron could barely scrape together just over a hundred, mainly the noble families’ own elite soldiers.

"Shoot! Shoot!"

As the Knight shouted, the longbowmen released their arrows in an arching shot toward the shield wagon.

"Thud, thud, thud!"

Due to the wet cloth, the sound was muffled, but the soldiers hiding behind the shield wagon could hear the sporadic noises above their heads, and the whistling of arrows flying by, though they weren’t worried as none had penetrated.

But in the next second, the sound of arrows slicing through the air became strange. Being seasoned battlefield veterans, they instinctively became alert and shouted.

"Watch your heads!"

Everyone tried their best to stay sheltered under the shield wagon, while raising their wooden shields above to protect their comrades.

However, the solid wooden boards of the shield wagon couldn’t withstand the penetrating heavy arrows, some even hitting the mortars, producing a metallic clash, sparking against the barrel, leaving visible marks.

Similarly, some arrows embedded into the ground, making a dull sound as they sank into the wood; in any case, the shield wagon could no longer offer them shelter, displaying the terrifying might of the heavy arrows in an instant.

Not to mention, this wasn’t a single wave, but continuous showers of arrows!

Fortunately, at that distance, there wasn’t much force left to penetrate both wet cloth and wood, with most being blocked by the soldiers’ own shields. Yet, some arrows found their mark, causing fatalities that gradually increased.

In the first exchange, despite Hamlet breaking the traps, the shield wagon incurred casualties.

Initially, it was the crossbowmen probing with their shots, and only afterward did the regrouped longbowmen launch their attack.

The appearance of the longbowmen wasn’t unexpected to Barton, as his intelligence reached him before the battle began.

A direct assault was impossible; unlike the unworthy rabble on the opposing side, Hamlet’s soldiers were valuable, and Barton didn’t dare to trade lives.

He advanced the shield wagon to draw out the longbowmen and pinpoint their location.

Hamlet’s soldiers had a distinctive feature, generally not in full armor, but equipped with breastplates and helmets for protection.

They were also equipped with shields, perhaps some were injured, but as long as too many didn’t die, it was acceptable.

There was a cost for power; longbows were nearly two meters long, requiring considerable space to draw, especially for volleys that created arrow storms—they had to show themselves!

In this era, longbowmen’s advantages were significant, but unfortunately, compared to muskets, which could be trained to fire proficiently in three days, they held no advantage.

Not to mention, my artillery could fire five hundred yards, with a maximum range of eight hundred yards!

As soon as the longbowmen showed themselves, the war machines stationed four hundred yards from the farm erupted in roars from positions on both sides.

The Knights weren’t fools; they knew about artillery, of course?

The farm itself was undefended, the brickwork merely a facade set up over the past few days, unable to enclose the entire farm, focusing instead on reinforcing structures, connecting buildings with brick walls, thus the longbowmen were hiding behind these defensive lines.

Countless projectiles rained down with little time for reaction, immediately penetrating the farm, with thunderous detonations reverberating, that was the sound of shattered and flying masonry.

Under this concentrated barrage, the brick walls couldn’t withstand and collapsed, revealing that underneath, wooden posts were embedded into the ground, covered with clay, and finally piled with bricks.

Indeed, in just three to four days, there wasn’t enough brick for comprehensive fortification, only clever expediencies could suffice.

With the brick walls down, most of the archers were startled, and some injured by flying wooden and stone debris, losing the confidence to unleash volleys of arrows as before.

However, the accumulation of arrow waves turned into a tide, and the same applied to the second wave of artillery fire.

Another round of exaggerated explosions woke them up; without orders, their instincts drove them to turn and flee, even discarding their longbows as cumbersome.

But unfortunately, to artillery shells, there was no distinction, instantly tearing apart the flesh of those individuals, and the area became a grisly scene, with mangled limbs flailing in the air, a still-beating heart ejected outside.

With the impact, blood splattered in the stream, the ground was layered with a gruesome carpet of flesh, and the pungent stench quickly spread.

This scene was a shocking revelation to the enemy, telling those who had never truly been to battle one phrase.

Welcome to... hell!