The sudden lunge, combined with the length of the spear shaft, instantly annihilated the first row of knights—thousands of repeated thrusts drove the spear tips into the gaps between their helmets and armor in an instant, like cold snakes sliding in. Many knights were pulled off their horses by the spear tips before they could even react.
Many were impaled on the long spears, but the enemy's warhorses did not stop!
They charged directly into the formation, knocking over the first row of warriors before being stopped by the gleaming spears of the subsequent rows. Any warhorses that couldn't stop were all impaled and killed.
The formation seemed to be broken, and the only knight who managed to dodge the spear tips and break through into the enemy lines—the titled knight leader—hadn't even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when he was startled by a gleaming wall of spear tips, like a forest of spears.
His reaction was incredibly fast. He instantly abandoned his horse, using the stirrup's momentum to leap over the horse's head and the spear tips, landing behind the spear formation. His horse was instantly riddled with holes.
"Shoot!" A loud roar came, and the knights of the third row, who wanted to take advantage of the chaos to charge into the formation, were instantly shot full of arrows, becoming like porcupines. Even as they fell, the knights of the fourth row, unable to defend against the sudden arrows from the front, were unluckily struck.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, the warriors who had been knocked down either stood up or were replaced by the second row. Aside from the unlucky ones who were constantly being dragged back or knocked unconscious, everyone else stood ready, facing the still over three thousand knights.
The titled knight, after charging into the central formation, found himself surrounded by enemies on all sides. As soon as they saw him, many abandoned their spears, drew their short swords, and charged at him.
He sneered. He had discarded his knight's lance along with his mount at the crucial moment earlier. From this, one could see what kind of person he was—for a knight's warhorse, their comrades, they were like brothers, requiring grooming, play, and a seamless bond between man and horse. But when faced with danger, he unhesitatingly abandoned his brother for his own survival. This fighting method made many knights watching from above turn away with expressions of disgust, yet they still quietly asked themselves: if they encountered such infantry tactics, facing that instant killing move, did they have any other choice besides abandoning their horse?
The answer was no. If you didn't abandon your horse, you died! It was a checkmate!
The titled knight sneered as he drew his knight's broadsword, bringing it down in a cleave against a brave infantryman who charged at him.
But the moment he was deep within enemy lines, his attack was already futile.
Having learned from the previous encounter with the titled knight Demacia, at least twenty ace archers focused their attention on the knight who had entered the encirclement. Although the others around them were still suppressing the enemy with arrows, these twenty men, with the gaze of hawks, had locked onto the enemy's figure.
It's easy to judge an archer's skill: just look at his quiver.
An ordinary archer is already weak and sore after 12 draws, while an elite archer can make 24 accurate shots, hitting the target every time (though heavy armor made it difficult for each arrow to yield a return). As an ace in Kailar's army, like the Mongol archer Jebe, there were two ways for Jebe to earn his title: shooting down eagles with a strong bow, and taking the heads of a hundred enemies.
The definition of an ace in Kailar's army was: having at least fifteen knights' lives on his hands.
These archers grew through a single war—eight hundred knights were counted in that one war.
And these aces were directly granted the title of Baron for their merits.
Facing the sniping of such archers, let alone a titled knight, even if Kailar possessed magic equal to or less than absolute defense, he would only be suppressed—as soon as he dropped his magical defense, arrows would fly towards his face and other vital points. Kailar had no confidence in defending against that.
This was also why he always stayed behind the phalanx. He could join them on the battlefield, boosting their morale, but he didn't want to die from a small crossbow bolt.
So, although this crushing blow gained bonuses from the battlefield and his title, if it had landed squarely, this warrior, who dared to charge a titled knight, would likely have met his end. However, at least twenty arrows not only struck his sword tip and hilt, but also his shoulder, abdomen, chest, waist, and thigh—not a single spot was missed.
Clearly, this was also a lesson from last time—don't expect a one-hit kill against a titled knight!
So no one aimed for the head; they all used arrows to make the opponent's movements hesitant.
The impact of dozens of arrows hitting him caused his longsword to swing wide and strike the mud beside him. The warrior who dared to challenge the knight one-on-one was full of courage. With a single strike of his short sword, he plunged it into the knight's arm along a gap in his armor.
Like a loach, he struck and fled, rolling out of the opponent's attack range. Instantly, a circle of Macedonia long spears surrounded him. A few others, abandoning their long spears for short swords or daggers, slowly circled in front of the opponent. Arrows rained down from above, none aimed at their own men.
The titled knight, stuck full of arrows like a porcupine, for the first time thanked the uncomfortable and cold chainmail he wore.
Although the arrowheads were firmly embedded in the heavy armor, the chainmail kept them from penetrating, with only a limited few arrowheads constantly scraping his muscles, making him very uncomfortable.
Facing the gleaming long spears, he sneered, raising his sword and directly severing the wooden shafts of a row of spears. But immediately, four warriors simultaneously leaped at him.
He sneered again. He only needed one chance to take them down—a chance for the arrow rain to stop.
But he wouldn't get it!
Jack was the first brave warrior to lunge forward and stab the opponent with his short sword. The moment he retreated, he immediately gripped his long spear, waiting for an opportunity—a chance for a fatal blow.
Facing the titled knight, who had cut down the other men's spear shafts and was focused on the arrows and the other charging warriors, Jack sneered. Ever since Fulin died, he had been filled with hatred for these knights, and equally for war and invaders. Jack's face twisted into a ferocious grin, but in an instant, he poured all his strength into his arm, then thrust with all his might... Red Leaf Ridge had no inferior products!
Even the Macedonia long spear instantly pierced through the armor on the opponent's back, through his chest, and then emerged from the armor on his front.
A cold light gleamed, as if a cold snake had been swallowed into his windpipe, only this snake carried sharp venom...