Chapter 1450: Clouds Veil the Moon

Chapter 1450 -1359: Clouds Veil the Moon

Standing at the peak of Chunan Mountain Pass, surrounded by three to five guards, Horn extended the telescope tube and looked towards the east.

Amid the clouds covering the moon, Horn could see rows of soldiers resting around campfires at the bottom of the cliff by his feet.

On the artillery positions on one side of the mountain, every time a buzzing sound emerged, the gears rotated, causing the mountain to tremble.

Immediately, a shadow melted into the night sky, realizing only when the vampire formation raised the blood mist to know where the shell was headed.

Every seven or eight minutes, a sun shell rose high into the sky, illuminating the land.

With this brief light, Horn could see everything before and afar in this roughly two minutes of brightness.

I have to say, even though they’re clan troops as well, these clan troops are much more elite.

Shells continuously create bloody gaps in the formations, and this psychological pressure is enough to shatter the already tense minds of ordinary soldiers.

Yet these twenty thousand clan troops of the Royal Court, while unable to advance, showed no intention of retreating either.

They even, in the style of the Holy Alliance, dug trenches and bunkers under flying shells, clearly prepared for a defensive battle.

If the Royal Court troops defend the northern line, then their target must be the southern line.

Horn shifted the telescope southward but could only barely see the Holy Grail Heights.

From the light cavalry and ranger reconnaissance results, the enemy seems to have gathered about ten thousand troops controlling the heights and artillery positions.

And there should be more troops either at the base or behind the mountain, though the number is unknown.

Intelligence from the south line suggests that about forty thousand troops are assembling on the southern line, indicating an impending attack from the south line.

At this moment, accompanying Grand Duke Saranto lowered his telescope.

He looked at Horn still observing the enemy, somewhat unbelieving.

Since he arrived today, unbelievable events have occurred one after another.

They thought the clan troops they had faced were already elite, but compared to the Royal Palace troops and these two elite clan troops, they were inhuman.

Oh wait, not vampires.

Previously, under relentless shelling from the moon mercury, the Royal Court formations would quickly become restless after several salvos.

But the formation of the clan troops before them remained motionless; occasional runs or disturbances were swiftly suppressed by officers.

The proportion of veterans and officers was unusually high.

And on the Holy Alliance side, the most noteworthy was the quality of the Holy Alliance artillery commanders.

Artillery can be operated through tactile experience, but artillery commanders require knowledge to command numerous gear guns.

Artillery’s math can be a bit lacking, but artillery commanders must excel in mathematics.

In the Falan Kingdom, being able to command three cannons is already excellent, commanding four is rare, and even counting five cannons can be counted on two hands.

Meanwhile, on the Holy Alliance side, the average number of cannons commanded by artillery officers is five, at least four at worst.

Generals like Mormon could easily command ten, twenty, or even thirty gear guns.

Commanding isn’t merely about firing shells, it’s about deciding who to hit, how to deploy, how to shoot, and so forth.

There are even astrologers skilled in divination for calibration.

Although the Royal Court’s fire rate and aftereffect surpass that of the Holy Alliance, they were still suppressed by the Holy Alliance artillery at the initial artillery duel.

The Royal Court is a newcomer to artillery, and their technology isn’t impressive.

But they have many people and are obedient to instructions, making their efficiency and accuracy unmatched by Falan.

At the Chunan Mountain Pass, even with preliminary artillery battles, either side swapped with Falan would result in a devastating loss.

Scratching his numb scalp, Grand Duke Saranto quietly retreated, realizing this battle wasn’t one he’d intervene.

If it weren’t for the Holy Alliance, either Norn or Falan, any of them would be punched through by the Royal Court’s concentrated attack.

Lowering his telescope, Horn took a deep breath, his left hand resting on the hilt of the Blood Covering Cloud, gently rubbing it.

Whether Konyaz had kept a hand or believed forty-five thousand soldiers sufficient to seize this place, he left a considerable force at Holy Grail Heights.

Regardless of the north line or central line, Horn’s primary requirement was ensuring Holy Grail Heights wasn’t heavily fortified.

Otherwise, cutting off the contact in the four enemy regions and encircling Serafe wouldn’t have been possible.

Feeling the roughness in his palm, he lowered his head, gazing at the hilt Frick gave him.

Twenty years of blood and tears, the fate of millions, lies beneath this sword and hinged on Horn’s decision.

Can they win?

From a strategic perspective, as long as both sides clash here and Serafe appears on the battlefield, Horn’s ascension to the brass throne is assured.

But outside the battlefield, uncertainties abound; what if Serafe sees through it? What if Serafe escapes?

No time to wait, Fate won’t grant Horn, the Holy Alliance, or the world a second chance.

All Horn can do is seize the moment and do his utmost.

Gripping the Blood Covering Cloud, as the red-smoke sun shell rose from the distant south.

In the ink-like night sky, the red sun stood strikingly vivid.

“Fire the cannon, signal!”

As the North Line streaked with a sun shell bearing blue smoke in the sky, all Holy Alliance officers and soldiers understood—

The Holy Grail plan, officially starts!

Under the blue light, the seventh envoy unit of the Royal Palace army and its two vanguard squads appeared outside Tibot Village unnoticed.

Boots slightly sank into the damp, waterlogged grass, stained with mottled mud marks.

In the vampire’s gaze, the village with white lanterns on in the night and surrounded by rammed earth low walls was glaringly conspicuous, almost highlighted.

“In the White Bone Swamp area, the Holy Alliance army is sparsely and thinly distributed,” echoed the squad leader Maus’s voice within the bird-beak mask, “This village won’t host more than half an enemy squad (250 men). We must seize it quickly, or if they reinforce, we, you, will be disadvantaged. Understand?”

“Understood.” The vampires from the two squads all responded quietly, and Maus smiled.

The difference between vampires and humans is like that of the moon and feces.

Even if humans temporarily grasp something that vampires haven’t; once acquired, vampires quickly absorb it as if it was innate, catching up rapidly.

On a frontal battlefield, elite vampires might seem slightly disadvantaged.

But when it comes to skirmish battles or confrontations of hundreds, Maus feels confident in vampire victory.

“Bang!”

Not allowing time to speak, a crisp sound followed as sparks exploded on the adjutant’s pointy helmet beside him, immediately causing him to fall.

“Rangers, it’s rangers, retaliate!”

Before Maus finished speaking, his adjutant was hit by a helical gun by the rangers, naturally enraging him.

In a moment, several top-grade vampires dove into the shadows as sharp whistles from the woods abruptly ceased.

The effect was clear, the previously dimly lit village suddenly flickered with bright firelight, indicating that soldiers inside were awakening and assembling.

Facing such adversaries like the Holy Alliance, no room for error could be afforded.

Though angry, Maus didn’t believe it would affect the final outcome.

In confrontations of more than ten thousand, he acknowledged occasional inferiority; but in battles of hundreds, advancing with superior numbers was Maus’s forte.

Bullets whirled through the night, toppling flowers, snapping branches, shattering rocks.

Among steadily advancing vampires, soldiers occasionally toppled with blood blossoming from their chests.

Yet for Maus’s group, two squads of a thousand soldiers needn’t worry about the volleys of two hundred Holy Alliance soldiers.

When his adjutant suggested deploying scouts and pausing the attack, he smiled and shook his head.

When advancing steps were repeatedly interrupted by volleys and squad leaders suggested slowing down, he smiled and shook his head.

Even when the adjacent squad leader inquired, he continued nodding and smiling.

But when he casually turned back, discovering nearly a tenth of the two squads had unexpectedly scattered, Maus finally sensed something amiss.

Maus felt uneasy, his eyes widening.

With vampires’ unique dark vision, shaking his head vigorously sweeping side to side.

The next moment, a scream pierced the night sky.

“When? Where’s the army from? How did they know?!”