The sound of footsteps, unbelievably synchronized, accompanied by the creaking tension of winding springs.

A steel forest was rushing forward at a speed beyond their comprehension, spears interlaced, forming a long wall of blades, leaving only a narrow slit for a glimpse of the indigo hills behind.

"Hurry up, hurry up!"

The Armored Soldier shoved within the infantry's grand array, lashing fiercely at the lingering Guards with a whip.

Driven by the threat of death, these soldiers had never turned the rear rows with such high efficiency.

At a mere thirty to fifty meters away, the legions halted their steps.

At this distance, they were as close as a Knight's charge away, individuals on the opposite sides could roughly discern each other's figures.

Spears lowered, occasionally resting on the shoulders of the Holy Gunmen, their black muzzles silently aimed at their ranks.

Perhaps an illusion, many Church soldiers felt a moment of inner peace.

"Fire!"

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

Lead bullets rained down on the backs of the Guards like a storm, the squelching sound of lead penetrating flesh incessant.

Their bodies trembled, blood arrows shot from wounds piercing front to back, and the bullets could even penetrate another guard's body.

In the short range of thirty to fifty meters, tracks of twisting air by the lead bullets were almost visible to the naked eye.

The Holy Gunmen moved mechanically like puppets on stage, the first row stepping forward to fire, retreating when done, then the second row stepped up, followed by the third.

For the Guards of the Church's army, when the first row fell, so did the second, third, and even fourth and fifth rows.

The screeching whine of firing and the creaking of winding springs made one's scalp tingle, and the Guards facing battle head-on fell in swathes.

They curled on the ground, clutching the explosive cavities in their wounds, faces drenched in cold sweat, screaming in agony and fear.

Even the Armored Soldiers cried out in anguish under the barrage of lead.

"I've been bitten by the devil, it's the devil."

"Monk, go suppress the sorcery, where's the Monk? Where are the Monks?"

"The devil defeated the Saint Master!"

Amid continuous explosions, blood trickled onto their clothes, pieces of pale yellow fat floated in the doomsday-like stream flowing past the Guards' feet.

The thorny grass scratched at the Guards' ankles, leaving them no time for fear, only bewilderment, utter bewilderment.

This bewilderment fell into a peculiar silence when the gunfire ceased.

Has the devil's wind ceased?

Many Guards lifted their heads, only to see the Holy Gunmen retreating from both flanks, the sight of a hundred spears laid flat like a porcupine.

The double-layered spears wobbled up and down as bearers stepped forward, leaving no doubt they could pierce through flesh.

The shining spear tips trembled, causing the hearts of the Guards to tremble in unison.

Just then, a devilish command issued from the mouth of Superhero Corps Commander Rudilo—"Slow, charge step!"

"Boom!"

Three hundred Long Spearmen stomped forward in unison, airborne dust weaving a curtain of ochre sand before them.

"Gallar!"

Those marching Salvation Army infantry shouted the Pope's surname, launching a charge at the infantry's great formation within a mere twenty meters.

Cracks emerged instantly in the grand infantry formation, with cries and shoving among comrades, some were pushed to the ground, trampled on as they retreated backward.

The jarring spears continually pierced in the congested phalanx, a Walking Combat Cultivator impaled a spear into a Guard's chest, who cried "Mother" as he collapsed clutching his wound.

Withdrawing the spear, blood spurted out, the Combat Cultivator followed his fellow monks, swinging the spear shaft to deflect blades while thrusting the spear tip into throats, chests, backs, and ribs...

As expected by Arman, the four infantry grand formations engaged with the Gallar Array were struck down in one close firing round complemented by a charge of Long Spearmen.

Wounded soldiers lay on the ground moaning, deserters and rout soldiers dashed madly through the gaps in formation, shedding heavy armor as they went.

No matter how the Knights overseeing the battle killed, they couldn't catch up with the fleeing soldiers.

Lying prone on his horse, Arman paid no heed to the infantry phalanx's defeat, while Count Koma leaped about in agitation.

The defeat of the central army did not upset Arman; instead, his eyes fixed intently on the Salvation Army's left wing.

For the left wing, being close to the King's Path was the most convenient route for retreat.

So Arman dispatched four hundred Knights of Hotam County aiming to open a path for the distinguished figures within the command unit.

Currently, among the four hundred Extraordinary Knights, there were roughly two hundred ordinary Extraordinary Knights and two hundred retinue Knights, with the two wings amassing at a careful pace, separated by eighty to ninety meters.

But for Desai, who took the initiative to charge at the front, eighty to ninety meters was a short distance, traversed in an instant.

"Fire!"

A thunderous roar erupted as 120 Holy Guns simultaneously unleashed their fury, 120 lead bullets transformed into speeding clouds, whooshing past the galloping Knights.

The crackling, continuous popping sounded like a string of firecrackers, and the warhorses reared, neighing, as the Knights, like small boats in a storm, swayed and tumbled, falling backward off their mounts.

Amid the terrifying sound of flesh ripping, the leading ten or so Knights and their horses collapsed onto the ground like tattered sacks.

Behind them, another seven or eight Knights were hit by stray bullets, clutching their chests or arms, burying their heads deep into the horse's mane.

As for some of the horses hit by stray bullets, they even snapped out of their drug-induced frenzy, with their intelligence regaining control.

Upon hearing that deafening roar, they astonishingly shrieked wildly, throwing their Knights off and fleeing on their own.

The Knights, blocked by the corpses and horses, slowed down considerably, with at least a dozen quietly leaving the charging formation.

"Quick, they've finished firing, charge over, charge over!"

Enduring the painful tearing of shoulder muscles, Desai, ignoring the thick blood flowing from his armor, raised the flag and shouted to the disarrayed Extraordinary Knights.

"Don't wait, if we wait for them to close in, we won't be able to charge through, charge!"

The Knights, already reduced by at least twenty percent of their speed, continued their charge.

Their eyes red, faces twisted in fear and rage, the Knights were like trapped beasts, missing this chance meant there would be none other.

"In the name of the master, slash down these demons!"

The finished Holy Gunmen calmly stowed their weapons and, at the Brigade Commander's "left/right turn," marched swiftly to the rear from the sides of the gun formation.

The first wave of Holy Gunmen parted, revealing a second wave, still in a kneeling-shooting stance, with ten Spring-Loaded Hand Cannon users placed at the very front.

"Left turn! Form ranks!"

"Double left column formation!"

A peculiar shout sounded from the flank, Desai glanced over, feeling as if a boulder pressed on his chest.

The first and third rows of flank Legion Holy Gun Masters each stepped left, while the second and fourth rows stepped left-up, filling the gaps.

Thus, the flank's firepower doubled.

"Crouch on the saddles!"

After a fifty-meter firing range, another barrage at thirty meters descended upon the Extraordinary Knights.

Besides 80 lead bullets and at least 200 iron shots from the front, at least 50 more lead bullets struck from the side.

Blood flowed freely from the armor, horses bucked wildly, terrified, as dozens more Knights fell from their steeds.

The cloud of projectiles dissipated, but the Holy Gun's thunder had already slowed the Knights to less than thirty percent of their original speed.

Lead bullets whooshed past their ears, and even though Desai had prepared himself, he couldn't help feeling jittery, nearly losing consciousness.

Only when the whooshing and thunder paused did Desai dare to look up blankly, realizing he hadn't charged forward, having subconsciously tightened the reins.

The tattered heraldic flag twisted on the ground, the warhorse panted like a bellows, and a river of blood slowly flowed from its body.

Over a hundred Long Spearmen leveled their spears, aiming them at the charging Knights, even stepping forward to attack.

"Kill!" Three hundred Walking Combat Cultivators roared simultaneously.

"Run!" Someone led the charge, and the Knights rushed past Desai, crying as they fled.

Only about a hundred Knights remained on the battlefield, the rest either claiming their term ended or shamelessly running away.

Among them, those who truly reached the enemy front line were only about a dozen near him; the rest were either wounded, dead, or fled.

"We're this far in, we must continue the charge, let's turn back to strike their rear Holy Guns..." Desai shouted, pulling back the fleeing Knight Commander.

Before he finished speaking, a sound came to his ears, but unfortunately, his visor's view was too narrow, and he did not notice a halberd hooking toward him.

Pain and tearing came from his neck, the immense force almost strangled him, and before he regained his senses, he felt a dizzying loss of balance.

The halberd hooked his neck, bending the shaft into an arc, and Desai was flung from the horseback, tumbling heavily to the ground, limbs in the air.

The hefty Knight crashed down with his armor, stirring a cloud of yellow dust.

Seeing the Knight twitch once before lying still, the Walking Combat Cultivators drew their swords, about to lift his armor to finish him.

But after taking two steps, they halted, a sharp whistle sounded, making their faces change as they quickly retreated.

They even withdrew from their newly established positions, unable to see beyond their vision but hearing the Guards' cheers and the rumbling earth.

No doubt, they knew who it was.

Sure enough, the Orders could no longer hold back, and Victor even thought they arrived a bit early.

To be exact, several Legion Commanders were guessing which lucky one would seize this chance.

Victor always had decent luck.

"We've really struck it lucky," Legion Commander Victor raised the feathered spear, stood beside the front line's soldiers, raising his spear to the same height and position, "Be prepared!"

"The Orders, they're here!"

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