Our Family Has Fallen
Chapter 59: Bandit Leader Wolf_1

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Bandit Leader Wolf_1

Only when they got close to the battlefield did they realize the fighting was extremely intense. The ground was littered with bodies, mostly of the artillery unit’s rank-and-file soldiers, with a few members of the uniquely outfitted Wolf Faction among them.

War is about brutal slaughter, life and death, the collision of blood and fire. Shrieks, screams, and wails interwove over the battlefield—there was absolutely nothing beautiful about it.

It was an ambush. Lance saw instantly that the site had been chosen by the Barbarians because the clearing was flanked by dense forests on both sides—a classic ambush site. It was unclear why the artillery unit’s sentries had failed.

Caught in an ambush in such an environment meant that after exchanging an initial volley of gunfire, both sides had already entered the phase of close-quarters combat. Evidently, the Barbarians did not intend to give the artillery unit a chance to leverage the power of their muskets.

In the chaos of battle, the Wolf Faction Musketeers also dared not shoot recklessly. Otherwise, given the inaccuracy of Flintlock Guns, the probability of hitting their own men was high—virtually guaranteed.

The soldiers of the artillery unit were trained and battle-hardened, not fresh recruits. Furthermore, their numbers exceeded those of the Wolf Faction warriors.

But the Wolf Faction’s equipment was superior. Those engaged in close combat with the artillery unit were fully armored, their faces even covered by masks.

These Barbarians, born from tribes, excelled in close combat, not to mention the aid of numerous white wolves fighting alongside them.

In contrast, only a few elites of the artillery unit wore armor. Most of the common soldiers had none or wore makeshift "Wan Guo Brand" protection cobbled together from the gear of mercenaries and bandits. The quality of such gear was questionable. The bodies on the ground bore witness to this reality, which explained why more of them lay there.

As for the cannons—war machines requiring eight people to operate—the fallen gunners nearby made it evident the Barbarians had also targeted this area heavily. As a result, the cannons remained unused on the battlefield like scrap metal, as no one had the chance to operate them.

Conversely, some of the Wolf Faction’s more confident Gunners hid in the forests to shoot, each shot taking a life.

The artillery unit’s elites, in particular, were singled out. However, even with protective gear, Wolf Faction members could not withstand being outnumbered three or five to one, and the mightiest were cut down by chaotic blades.

The artillery unit could afford casualties with their numbers, but for the Wolf Faction, each loss was irreplaceable.

For a time, the battle reached a stalemate. Everyone was frenzied, none could cease fighting—not even the Captain, who, unable to command, drew his saber to join the fray.

His strength was undeniably formidable. Two Wolf Faction members had already fallen beneath his blade, and a third seemed about to follow when a brawny man carrying a Great Shield emerged from the Wolf Faction ranks to block the blow.

The Captain was not a small man. Robust in stature and clad in Heavy Armor, he looked more imposing than those around him. Yet, standing next to the nearly two-meter-tall giant, he still seemed a head shorter.

Not to mention, in the recent clash, the brawny man had used his Great Shield to deflect the Captain’s attack outright.

This was a steel Great Shield, two-thirds the height of a man. Its top and bottom were connected with rivets to protrusions as sharp as Short Swords. Coupled with a Skeletons emblem painted on it, it exuded a terrifying presence.

The shield-bearing giant, with a high nasal bridge and triangular eyes, had a fierce visage. He wore a thick beard but sparse hair, covered only by a band of cloth.

Compared to the fully armored warriors, the giant had exposed arms. He wore a Fish Scale Armor with a large metal disc in the middle as a heart guard. A pendant made from a white wolf’s tail dangled from his waist, and his legs were protected by metal leg guards and iron boots.

The style of his gear was not characteristic of the Empire. Not to mention the whole white wolf pelt twisted around his neck, its head complete with fangs, seeming as if it were alive, merely napping, ready to wake the next second and bite.

At first glance, his attire set him apart from the common Wolf Faction members. The moment Lance saw him appear, he recognized him as the bandit chief, ’Head Wolf’.

After they engaged, no words were exchanged. They both knew that, in this situation, they couldn’t stop, nor did they need to understand any reasons.

The only thing left to do was to fight.

And then kill the enemy!

The Captain swung his saber fiercely and fearlessly, aiming each strike at vital points.

The Head Wolf’s combat style was even more exaggerated. A war cry like a wolf’s howl came from his mouth; then he lifted the Great Shield and smashed it forward, using the spikes on it to attack.

Each blow was heavy and powerful, impossible for ordinary opponents to block.

This was both a Shield and a weapon. The blood and Flesh clinging to the spikes attested to how many had fallen before it.

Both men were ruthless. No one dared to approach their fight, and the surrounding rank-and-file soldiers deliberately stayed away, clearing a space around them for a time.

Watching from the rear, Lance realized how formidable both were. The Captain’s strength was not inferior to Reynard’s, and the Head Wolf was even more ferocious.

Although he didn’t know how heavy that thing was, judging by the metal Great Shield, it certainly wasn’t less than thirty or forty pounds. Yet, in the Head Wolf’s hands, it was like a toy. His thick arms could match Lance’s own thighs.

These guys were indeed fierce. Lance was glad he had chosen to set the Wolf Faction against the others; otherwise, his own Hamlet might not have withstood an assault from either of them.

"Damn, the fuse operator has been killed!" Laosan exclaimed, his face etched with worry as he explained the battlefield situation to Lance. "The Bombs are loaded but can’t be fired. It’s a pity we’re already embroiled in the melee, and the artillery and ammunition have been seized. Otherwise, if we used explosive Bombs, how could these men possibly stand against the Captain?"

After all, they were brothers who had fought together on the battlefield, not to mention that the Captain had once saved his life and shown him kindness.

"What explosive Bombs?" Lance asked.

"The Captain brought two cases of Bombs," Laosan explained. "One contained solid shot—simple in material, cheap to produce, and even reusable. The other contained explosive Bombs, which could create a blast radius upon firing and cause widespread damage, but they were expensive and difficult to replenish once used."

At the same time, Lance noticed that after the Head Wolf’s howl, all the Wolf Faction members became frenzied, like chickens on steroids. Although Lance didn’t know the reason, he knew that if they didn’t act now, the artillery unit was finished.

He wanted both sides to suffer, not for one side to achieve a landslide victory.

"The Barbarians must have committed all their forces by now," Lance said. "They definitely won’t expect us to attack from behind. Find and kill the Barbarian Musketeers."

Having said that, Lance tossed Laosan a short-barreled musket and handed another long gun to Dismas.

Lance had long noticed those hidden Barbarian Musketeers and led a few men to circle behind them.

The Wolf Faction warriors and white wolves were all fighting fiercely on the front lines, leaving the Barbarian Musketeers vulnerable without protection.

There weren’t many of them—just six Barbarian Musketeers in white wolf fur wielding long guns.

Observing their positions, Lance saw they were all spread out, each occupying an area at intervals, ideally suited for covering the battlefield by sniping from concealed spots.

But this also made it easier for Lance and his men to make their move.

After assigning targets, Lance signaled to begin.

Dismas fired the first shot. His target, one of the Barbarian Musketeers, dropped dead instantly. Dismas then immediately drew the short gun from his waist with one hand. Familiar with his pistol, he demonstrated terrifying accuracy with a headshot.

Eradication!