When the defensive line formed by the veterans faced the impact of The Mountain's heavy armored troops, it was like a wheat field hit by a flood.
In the instant of contact, Jon could even hear the dense snapping sounds of spears breaking in the veterans' hands.
The cracking and crunching noises set one's teeth on edge.
Although the veterans were unafraid of death and possessed tenacious fighting spirit, it couldn't make up for the disparity in equipment and physical strength.
The Mountain's heavy armored unit had plenty of line-breaker knights.
Wielding lances and greatswords, they tore open the veterans' defensive line as easily as sharks tearing through flesh.
"Kill! Kill them all!"
By now, The Mountain had recovered somewhat and stood up.
His massive frame was immediately noticed.
But his condition wasn't great; an arrow was deeply embedded in his eye socket.
Blood flowed down, covering more than half his face.
At a glance, he looked as terrifying as a demon crawled out of hell.
"Seven Hells!"
"Mountain Gods!"
"Old Gods!"
In Jon's army, soldiers of different faiths uttered different exclamations, but the meaning was the same: this man was too fierce.
They had never seen such a warrior.
They didn't know that long-term use of milk of the poppy had gradually dulled The Mountain's sense of pain.
Being blinded in one eye didn't seem to bother him much.
But that blinded eye thoroughly enraged The Mountain. He began charging recklessly, even knocking aside soldiers blocking his path.
He wanted to reach Jon and take his head.
The Mountain's entire unit was now in a frenzy, completely unaware that a trap lay ahead.
The veterans retreated while defending, and Jon counted the heavy armored soldiers entering the oil trap.
Fifty... eighty... one hundred thirty... one hundred seventy... two hundred ten...
When more than half of The Mountain's troops stepped into the trap Jon had set, the ambushers on both sides immediately began to close in.
"Jon!" Sora handed Jon a longbow and a burning arrow.
Jon drew the bow, nocking the arrow, his expression blank.
The flaming arrow shot out like a meteor tearing through the night.
Boom—
A massive orange ball of fire exploded amidst The Mountain's iron-clad troops.
Burning oil splattered everywhere, sticking to the armor of the surrounding heavy soldiers.
Soon, the other oil jars were ignited one by one. The Mountain could no longer maintain his charge formation and had to desperately reorganize his soldiers.
He could even see Jon standing there, just a few dozen steps away.
Those short few dozen steps, usually crossed in the blink of an eye.
But now, they felt like a chasm.
"JON————"
The Mountain roared unwillingly in Jon's direction.
He knew if he didn't retreat now, everyone here would likely die.
These heavy armored soldiers were built at great expense by Tywin.
If they were lost, he might as well be dead too.
The Mountain chose to "cut off the tail to save the body" again, leading just over two hundred heavy soldiers to charge Jon's encirclement.
The encirclement collapsed at his first impact, causing Jon's eyebrow to twitch.
Even the most brilliant tactics required capable soldiers to execute and sufficient equipment to support them.
If Jon had a heavy armored unit of his own, The Mountain absolutely couldn't rampage like this.
But soon, he would have one. Jon was incredibly envious of that heavy armor!
"Hakon, they're fleeing west. Take men to set up the sandbag barricades. Don't let them cross!"
"Yes!"
The Mountain's armor was heavy and his soldiers tough, but they couldn't withstand Jon's numbers.
He could grind them down with human lives.
That heavy armor... it was so tempting! He really wanted it!
Having broken out of the encirclement, The Mountain breathed in the cold air, trying to calm down, but the excruciating pain in his eye socket kept his mind on the verge of collapse.
At this moment, his headache seemed to flare up again, aggravated by the weird howling sounds echoing around him.
"My Lord, those sound like mountain clan wildlings!"
"Mountain clans? Didn't they all join us!?" The Mountain snapped irritably.
His pimply squire thought to himself that Tyrion had said "most tribes," not "all tribes," but given The Mountain's mental state, he dared not argue.
"Charge through!"
Tywin's notorious henchman had given up thinking. He just wanted to smash forward with his solid, heavy armor.
But when they reached the western retreat route, they found a group waiting for them.
Seeing their mediocre equipment, The Mountain disregarded them and led the charge.
But he soon realized something was wrong. At some point, the ground had been filled with sandbags. Stepping on them made footing unstable; stepping over them consumed immense stamina.
And the opposing archers were already in position.
The Mountain, tall and long-legged, wasn't affected much, but the soldiers behind him couldn't cope as well.
Forced, he retreated again. His group of over two hundred shrank further.
Those left behind due to exhaustion were treated like wild boars by the Northern and clan soldiers—visors lifted, daggers thrust viciously inside.
The Mountain shifted direction several times, but every breakthrough point was blocked by sandbags.
By now, not only the ordinary heavy soldiers but even The Mountain himself looked pale.
His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, and his greedy gasps seemed to try and suck all the air from the surroundings.
"My Lord!" Suddenly, the pimply squire pointed at Northern soldiers gathering in the distance.
The Mountain turned and saw Northern soldiers carrying sandbags to further strengthen the defensive line. It was as if they knew exactly where he would flee, even though he left a rear guard every time he moved.
It seemed useless! They always built defenses one step ahead of him.
The Mountain couldn't understand how they could pinpoint his location so accurately in the dark. He looked around and found only a little over a hundred heavy armored soldiers left.
Their sparse numbers were a far cry from the five hundred-plus he started with.
The soldiers looked exhausted, wretched, and pitiful.
Dawn was breaking. The Mountain knew that once the sun rose, they would completely lose any chance of escape.
The reason the Northern soldiers could block The Mountain so precisely was, of course, Jon's command.
Seeing The Mountain driven to a dead end, Jon decided to launch the final assault and completely sever Tywin's right arm.
Just as he was ordering the army to close the encirclement, his [God's Eye View] revealed a unit of about a hundred men rushing toward him.
The leader appeared to be Martyn. It seemed he was coming to support him, which raised Jon's opinion of him slightly.
At least he wasn't a fool who just waited for rescue. Perhaps Jon could entrust him with important tasks.
But now wasn't the time to chat. Jon didn't wait to rendezvous with him but led his army directly toward The Mountain's remnants.