Chapter 595: Battle Array

Chapter 595: Chapter 595: Battle Array

No one in the battle array knows whether the next blink of their eyes means life or death.

But their own lives or deaths, in the eyes of these soldiers with bloodshot eyes and burning bodies, aren’t things they want to think about or care for. They are like a monster fused together, forgetting life and death, forgetting fear and cowardice, even forgetting nervousness—there is only one thought left: kill more enemies!

The spearhead of the rhombus formation is lined entirely with cultivators, the strongest at Qi Refining Fourth Layer, the weakest at Qi Refining Second Layer. These are the blades of the array. The long spears they hold are distinct from others’, longer by a few inches, and etched with array markings on the spearheads—they are the magical artifacts used by the elite of the army.

"Close in tighter! Tighter! Forward! Forward!"

The flowing radiance at the Captain’s waist is the order signal in the army. Not just "light," but a unique vibration as well, responding to the True Qi within the body, letting the wearer never miss the orders on the waist token, even in the heat of battle.

The enemies to their left are not their concern for now—just focus on the frontal foes.

The tighter the rhombus formation, the better it can slice through and split the enemy, so every Captain both loudly encourages his soldiers and urges everyone to tighten their positions a bit more.

Both sides converge at the same time, distance cut by half in an instant, and soon, by the help of light talismans sent into the sky within the array, the figures of the enemies ahead become visible.

Wu Kai, with his broader view from horseback, lets out a slight sigh of relief. The ones charging toward them are not the long-toothed elephant race he feared, but the wolf tribe—infantry.

"Howl!" The roars grow closer and clearer, the thunder of feet becoming deafening as they run.

Even the ground beneath their feet seems to tremble. Even experienced veterans rarely face such a scene. Their numbers are immense—likely far exceeding their own formation!

"Spears up!"

In front, several Captains again bellow orders. Soldiers at the outermost and second ranks of the array immediately lower their upright long spears to a slight angle with the ground, and the entire formation’s advance suddenly slows.

"Plant spears!"

At the order, the front-row soldiers move in perfect unison. These are movements they’ve drilled countless times—not needing thought; at the command, their bodies execute the action instantly.

"Bang!"

The whole two-thousand-man battle array suddenly halts, and the rear ends of the slanted spears of the front row are braced firmly to the ground, with the man behind in archer’s stance stepping down to reinforce. The next row of spears is likewise planted, with their rear comrades pinning them with their feet as well.

"Bend over! Lower your heads! Get down! Lower! Tighten your chest and abdomen—unless you want your guts spilled, don’t relax your grip!"

Both hands gripping the spear tightly, bending forward, hunching down. They look just like half-crouched beasts. Across their backs are specially thickened layers of leather armor.

Heavy breathing rings in their ears, interspersed with the Captains’ and Decurions’ repeated commands to "Hold it tight!" and "Steady!" It feels like only moments pass—yet could also be an eternity...

Suddenly, a huge force slams onto their spears, accompanied by roars and the stench of blood, and the sharp crackle of weapons slamming into their helmets.

In an instant, it is like ocean waves smashing into the rocks.

The Captains’ helmets have face armor, for they must keep close eyes on the battle array. Contact is instantaneous—flesh and spearhead meeting—and there’s no telling which side prevails.

Have you ever seen an enemy, skewered on a spear, still madly kicking and pushing forward, only wanting to close in and hack at the spearman over the last inch?

Have you ever seen guts and entrails scattered everywhere, yet the dying still clutching the spear shaft stubbornly, even trying to snatch the weapon away?

Scenes like this are everywhere now. The Barbarian Race’s savagery is more than appearance—it is a bone-deep bloodlust. No human soldier can match this.

"Shaking spears!"

The soldiers in the front rows dare not look up. Lacking face armor, the moment they lift their heads, a flying shuttle or stone dust could blind or kill them. At the order, they immediately circulate True Qi, activating the array on their spearheads.

"Buzz!"

"Puchi! Puchi!"

It’s as if umbrellas spring open instantly, tearing and flinging away bodies clinging to the spears, a crimson rain erupting! In a flash, a huge gap opens before the battle array!

"Retrieve! Thrust out!"

The Captains control the rhythm of offense and defense for each position, while Decurions direct the soldiers to drag off the wounded and fill the gaps from behind.

Within the formation, Wu Kai remains calm, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up. The beauty of the military array is in patience and readiness: breaking the enemy lines at crucial points, sapping their strength while minimizing one’s own losses.

"Barbarians are barbarians. Even the most disciplined of wolf packs can’t form a proper array—how could they possibly contend with us?" Wu Kai is not underestimating them; he simply looks down on the barbarians charging in a scattered rabble. Are they seeking death?

"Order flag! Full advance! Rear force, watch for enemies coming around—test if we can punch through!"

Another command is passed down; the battle array begins to move again—not fast, but with a suffocating sense of pressure.

"Report! Poison mist ahead!"

Even as they report, poison mist has already swallowed several zhang ahead, covering soldiers in its radius, who collapse writhing and screaming, dead in seconds. Worse, a massive hole is torn in the formation, and it can’t be re-sealed without cover, while the wolf tribe surging from behind clearly won’t give them the chance.

"Order flag! Poison mist area—three volleys of Breaking Arrows!"

Wu Kai’s face shows not the slightest ripple; not even the cold smirk at the corner of his mouth vanishes. "This is nothing—just a small scene." After all, the barbarian race is full of toxic creatures and body cultivators, and their poison users are everywhere—using poison has a laughably low threshold; in the military, it’s nothing rare.

On the other hand, the opposing cultivators are moving—so their own cultivators naturally won’t just watch. That’s another slaughter altogether. Whichever side’s cultivators win can rain magic at will on the other’s ordinary soldiers. Thus, these duels are as decisive as the grinding melee below.

The crossbowmen are positioned in the center of the army, layered under heavy protection, with locations assigned by the Order Flag Officer—even if they can’t see the targets, they can fire their arrows as drilled, never straying far from the mark.

After three volleys of Breaking Arrows, the area tainted by poison mist is swept clean; rear troops fill in, and the carnage resumes.

At this moment, the barbarian force that had circled from the left flank finally runs out of patience and crashes into the back of the formation. Now beset front and rear, forward movement grinds to a halt.

"Hah! Want a war of attrition? You think you can afford one?"

Wu Kai scoffs, turning to ask his Deputy, "When is the central army coming up from behind?"

"Mylord, I’ve already contacted Assistant General Li. The central army will arrive in about the time it takes to burn two sticks of incense. But Assistant General Li’s division is already very close; they’re forming pincers and closing from behind us now."