When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist
Chapter 65: Betting on National Fate (4)

Chapter 65: Chapter 65: Betting on National Fate (4)

"Are all the ropes tied properly?"

Victor, the commander of the first brigade of the Black Hat Army’s first division, shouted to the company commanders of his nine Imperial Decree companies.

"All tied!" the nine Imperial Decree companies shouted in unison.

Ropes were tied to their belts, ensuring basic uniformity during marches and charges.

"Commander Kolman, doesn’t this count as cheating?" A company commander of the Black Hat Army asked while fingering the rope.

Slapping the young man beside him on the back of the head, Kolman cursed, "With such a weak tone, I thought you were Imperial Guards!"

"What’s so special about the Imperial Guard?"

"What’s so special? Just relying on their seniority! Pah!"

The topic quickly resonated with everyone present, who all complained in unison.

After all, the Imperial Guard always hogged resources. The more the Imperial Guard took, the less the Black Hat Army got, naturally leading to resentment.

The Black Hat Army acted tough, but they were well aware.

As the Pope’s elite legion, the Imperial Guard’s equipment and combat capabilities were superior to theirs.

Moreover, the Imperial Guard stopped the coup while many of them participated in it.

To prove their loyalty to His Holiness the Pope and clear their past faults, the company commanders of the Black Hat Army were not adverse to using some extra tactics.

Thus, the rope tactics were born.

If they couldn’t keep formation, tie a rope around each person in every line, pulling each other to stay in line, wasn’t it?

Simply genius tactics.

To any commander, this would be a perfect remedy for low morale.

If one person fell or had an accident, it could cause the whole brigade or even the entire division to stumble.

This method had been strictly forbidden by Jeska before, but to excel in this "special competition," cheating was acceptable.

If the Holy Father had an opinion, why wouldn’t he descend to the earthly realm?

If he hadn’t descended, he must have no objections.

As for rules, there was no rule against using ropes.

As to the risk of falling and implicating others, the Black Hat Army didn’t care; if they died, so be it, they’d ascend to Paradise Mountain, what’s there to fear?

Besides, they carried small knives; if necessary, they could cut the rope.

Stomping the ground hard as if trying to firm up the muck and prevent slipping.

Lifting his head, Victor squinted his eyes.

The sun was blazing, illuminating the disorderly approaching peasant soldiers.

Hiding his green eyes under the shadow of his hood, he carefully observed the peasant soldiers about seventy paces away.

Peasant soldiers were just a habitual reference; they weren’t serfs, mostly Public Register Farmers and refugees, with only a few tenant farmers of the lords.

The tenant farmers of the lords also held positions as household servants and were trusted allies of the masters, unlikely to be on the battlefield.

To the refugees, tenant farmers were a more noble form of Public Register Farmers.

They didn’t even have the pathway to kneel.

Like excrement floating in chamber pot urine, the peasant soldiers formed small groups, sometimes sticking to one side, sometimes to the other.

In crowded areas, it seemed there wasn’t even room to stand, while in spacious places, shouting to a companion couldn’t be heard.

The peasant soldiers wore ragged linen garments full of holes, exposing speckled, whip-scarred, and bruised bodies to the air.

In appearance, they were no different than Victor a few months ago.

In physical condition, with only two weeks of good meals and training, Victor wasn’t much better than them.

But Victor didn’t feel much fear.

In this group, the most combat-capable group would probably be the refugee elite—ruffians and hooligans.

They made a living through deception and extortion, often engaging in fights, known for their bravado, naturally considered the worst of the civilian class.

These individuals were once one of the groups the Public Register Farmers like Victor feared the most.

When this army of hundreds of peasant soldiers stood before them, and those they once feared appeared.

It wasn’t just Victor; most soldiers of the Black Hat Army felt an inexplicable sensation.

Their hearts pounded with tension, mouths dry, and many of their bodies began to tremble, gripping their muskets, veins bulging.

But it wasn’t fear.

Grasping the six-meter-long spears tightly, what initially terrified them seemed to lose its foundation of fear.

That feeling, more than a desire for victory, was confidence in it.

"Hey!" A hooligan seemed to recognize Victor and excitedly shouted, "Victor, you’ve joined the Secret Faction too? Come over, let me kick your ass hard, it’s been a while, my foot itches."

"Hahahaha—"

The peasant soldiers laughed mockingly.

Without any expression on his face, holding the lance level, Victor silently calculated the distance between both sides.

Sixty paces, fifty paces, thirty paces...

"Sprint, charge!"

With a unified shout, the entire Imperial Decree Master, a total of 60 Imperial Decree companies, charged collectively.

Spears clashing like a forest, colliding during the charge with metallic clanging sounds.

Despite the ropes, they could only maintain relative formation within twenty steps (ten meters).

After barely ten steps, a scream was heard.

Due to the slippery ground, an Imperial Decree company lost its footing and fell with a thud.

"Wait, I fell!"

"No time, keep going!"

In a situation like this, there was no stopping for him.

Feeling the rope sink beside him, his companions on both sides lifted the rope, gritting their teeth.

In an instant, the Imperial Decree company ended up on their back, the rope lifting their waist, legs in the air, dragging along the ground.

His head left a long trench on the ground, and his pants tore open during the struggle, revealing another swaying spear thrusting at the peasant soldiers.

The comical scene made even the hooligans and the peasant soldiers nearby clutch their stomachs and laugh.

But as the Black Hat Army approached quickly, their laughter grew quieter.

Waving knives and sticks, hooligans issued threats, trying to evoke familiar memories in their old "friends."

But this couldn’t stop the Black Hat Army’s unwavering charge.

When the gleaming spearheads appeared before them, they hadn’t even retracted their knives.

The feel of the spear piercing human flesh was indeed different from staking wood.

Victory felt the sensation of the spearhead tearing through flesh, going into muscle, and stabbing into the bone marrow carefully.

The ruffians skewered on the spears flailed helplessly, still being pushed back by the Black Hat Army.

The shrill screams and cries burst forth, blood mist diffused into the air, merging with the humid moisture.

Spears thrust, piercing bodies, the peasant soldiers fell one by one.

The person standing a second ago clutched the bloody hole and fell to the mud in the next instant.

The peasant soldiers didn’t attempt to fight back, only to discover their weapons merely two meters long.

The opposite Black Hat Army’s Imperial Decree companies wielded spears measuring six meters.

The Black Hat Army could stand there, and they couldn’t even touch them.

Long arm versus short arm, upper versus lower hand.

Blood water trickled on the ground like a brook, the sun glazing it with a translucent golden sheen.

Amongst the blood-drenched ground, wounded soldiers rolled in pain, wailing under the feet of the Black Hat Army.

Witnessing this scene, the Black Hat Army burst into laughter, achieving their first victory.

These merits could translate into titles and land, finally giving them bragging rights before the Imperial Guard.

The clash of laughter with cries was so jarring, such a carnage led many peasant soldiers to collapse.

They cried out "Demon" and "Monster," starting to retreat backward.

This left the Black Hat Army puzzled.

Isn’t this just something like a knightly tournament?

It wasn’t warfare, why resort to name-calling?

Can’t they handle losing? Can’t they handle losing?!

Having dispersed the peasant soldiers up front, the first division of the Black Hat Army began to regroup, preparing to flank the central forces.

There was, of course, one utmost important task, which was reporting the victory to Horn, sitting twenty paces away in the headquarters.

"Pass it on, initial victory! Prepare to flank the central forces!"

"Pass it on, major victory in the center!"

"Pass it on, our army has won! Our army has won."