Munitions Empire

Clearly, Suthers’s soldiers had not anticipated the side assault by a cavalry unit from Northern Ridge.

Similarly, they had not recognized these cavalrymen as belonging to Northern Ridge—Tang Mo’s cavalry uniform was also uniquely styled and colored a dim green-gray, just like his infantry.

Of course, no one had seen such attire before, so the Suthers infantrymen sitting on the ground to rest first regarded these sudden strangers with curious stares.

However, it wasn’t long before in their eyes, these strangers began charging towards them, showing no sign of slowing down.

Tang Mo knew that retreating to destroy those cannons might have been safer, but that would cause him to miss the fleeting opportunity of battle.

To launch an attack amidst the chaos and disrupt the entire battlefield as much as possible was the only way to achieve a greater victory—of course, it could also lead to the annihilation of his forces.

But he still called out the attack order without looking back, not even knowing himself why he was still so brave in the face of an enemy ten times his number.

In that moment, it was not rational thought but instinct that seemed to govern his body. He was a wild beast, a tiger pouncing on its prey! The moment he saw his prey’s throat, he instinctively opened his jaws wide and charged forward, throwing caution to the wind.

"For victory!" he shouted loudly from horseback, squeezing hard with his legs, spurring his horse to go faster.

His horsemanship was not great, but in a straightforward charge like this, he didn’t need exquisite riding skills; he simply needed to charge forward, leading the cavalry on either side of him to surge ahead recklessly.

At that moment, everything before Tang Mo’s eyes seemed to slow down. He held the reins tightly in one hand, his knuckles turning white from the force, while all he could hear beside his ears was the roaring wind—it was as though everything had quieted down.

His other hand reached forward, holding the Left-Wheel Handgun that had remained unfired since his horse had run too slow, leaving all six bullets intact.

Because the enemy was swarming, Tang Mo didn’t need to aim precisely; the bouncing of his horse wouldn’t have allowed for accurate aiming anyway.

Trusting his instincts, he pulled the trigger, immediately feeling the recoil on his arm, and it seemed a gunshot echoed in his ears.

He did not pause, continuing to pull the trigger, shot after shot as if venting his frenzy.

In front of him, the Suthers infantry, who had been fighting hard all day and were sitting on the ground resting with their flintlock guns, confirmed in horror that these charging knights were their enemies.

Then, as they tried to stand and reload their muskets, they were more terrified to discover that the few dozen cavalrymen charging towards them had opened fire upon them.

After a volley of gunfire, many Suthers soldiers fell to the ground, their spurting blood sowing fear among those splashed with their comrades’ gore.

What truly shattered the will of these Suthers soldiers was that these cavalrymen didn’t discard their firearms and draw their swords as other cavalry had done.

Instead, the unknown cavalry continued to hold their firearms and fired a second time, releasing yet another volley of bullets.

After that, the cavalrymen pulled their triggers a third time and fired again, hitting even more people and bringing complete chaos to the scene.

Unknowingly, Tang Mo and his 30 cavalrymen had penetrated the weakest point of a Suthers troop, achieving the battle objective that Earl Fisheo had been striving for all along.

The Suthers troops advancing to attack Northern Ridge had been pressing from the northeast to the southwest. And Fisheo’s troops had been fiercely attacking this troop’s left flank.

He had chosen this tactic because he was familiar with the terrain, knowing that assaulting the left flank would provide a patch of woods as cover for his own side.

There was another reason, which was that in case the attack failed to make progress, he conceived a plan to use a little-known path leading to a three-way junction on the flank, allowing him to lead his soldiers at a faster pace from an unexpected direction toward the junction to make one last effort and fulfill his promise to Tang Mo.

In reality, the left flank of the enemy, which Fisheo had been attacking from the east to the west, coincided with the troops deployed to the south.

Coincidentally, Tang Mo, following this path, also happened to make his way from the south to the north, right into the heart of the battlefield.

He was attacking the nerve-wracked soldiers of Earl Fisheo who had already been forced to retreat 3 kilometers after more than 6 hours of fierce fighting and had already collapsed four times.

This troop had finally gained a respite, finally found the opportunity to deploy cannons, and mustered the courage to prepare to have a decisive battle here with Fisheo’s main force on the right flank.

Just when they were ready to take a good rest, eat something, and face their arch-nemesis in a fair fight.

Tang Mo’s cavalry broke through their defenses—from a direction they had never imagined, completely unguarded, and at the most relaxed moment when they were least capable of resistance.

The cooks distributing food, the officers who had taken off their boots, and the soldiers who hadn’t even loaded their ammunition were all crowded together, and 30 cavalries left them looking like fools.

The Suthers soldiers on the fringes dropped their weapons and started sprinting towards further places; they had already been running all morning, so they didn’t mind starting another escape.

The soldiers closer to the center were dizzied by the intense gunfire; they had already suffered heavy losses, without even a chance to flee. read-on-MVLeMpYr

More Suthers soldiers raised their hands in surrender, but the cavalries speeding past them had no time to stop and take prisoners.

The cavalries that swept through the battlefield like a whirlwind simply drew their sabers after running out of ammo, resorting to the most primitive means of ensuring those with raised hands fell back to earth.

Screams echoed across the battlefield, mixed with pleas for mercy and cries, the gunfire gradually faded, and Tang Mo’s cavalry had finally emptied the bullets from their pistols.

They had pierced through the formation of Suthers soldiers, and all the knights pulled their reins, turned their horses, and once again charged back into the battlefield.

In the process of adjusting and gaining speed again, they returned their sabers to their waists and drew a new pistol from the other side.

Shouting, with wild roars, the cavalries already deep in slaughter carried the pride and valor of victory and began the killing anew.

The already collapsing left wing of the Suthers had, just as Count Fisheo had anticipated, completely disintegrated and withdrawn from the battle.

The remaining less than 800 troops of the Suthers left wing were ravaged by Tang Mo’s 30 cavalries in a charge that plunged them into utter chaos.

Those whose courage had already been sapped, scurried and fled in terror, becoming nothing more than a backdrop to this war—the real heroes were clearly the knights who composedly wielded their sabers behind them.

"For victory!" A knight raised his saber high, the fresh blood dripping down the blade; he roared loudly and again brought down his blade, knocking down an escaping enemy from behind.

It was only now, after having his vision clouded by the frenzy of battle, that Wes realized the knight beside him did not seem to be his patron...

He subconsciously slowed down, looking bewilderedly to his sides; amid the chaos of the battlefield, he discovered, to his horror, that he could no longer find Tang Mo.

At this moment, he realized that when all the cavalries had turned to charge back at the enemy lines, he seemed to have forgotten about Tang Mo...

Even more frustratingly, he also just now realized that Tang Mo’s horsemanship seemed rather poor—charging in a straight line was no problem, but maneuvers like turning and stopping on inclines were practically failing grades for him.

So he yanked the reins, turned his horse around, and charged back through the chaotic battlefield, swinging his longsword while anxiously looking for Tang Mo.

Anxiety and tension had washed away the joy of victory, for in his view, if anything happened to Tang Mo, then this apparent victory would be a complete and utter defeat.

Even the thought that Tang Mo might be more important than the whole Northern Ridge flitted through his mind—a thought he would have surely laughed off six months ago.

But he could not laugh now, for after cutting down another Suthers soldier, he still could not see Tang Mo mounted on a horse.

Unconsciously, he had lost all reason, and couldn’t help but call out loudly, his voice trembling, "Tang Mo! Tang Mo! Where are you? Tang Mo!"

He didn’t even notice his warhorse had slowed down; he sat in the saddle, strolling as if in peace while surrounded by the enemy...

He continued riding and shouting, allowing the Suthers soldiers to pass by him.

His eyes didn’t even glance at these fleeing troops; his hand gripping the longsword swung it unconsciously.

Even his already hoarse and trembling voice began to carry a tinge of despair and self-reproach—he had lost the person he was supposed to protect, he had lost his master...

"Tang Mo!" he howled, his voice sounding abnormally strained.

Meanwhile, a young man covered in blood sat beside a dead warhorse, looking at a group of Suthers soldiers who were staring at each other, holding a Left-Wheel Handgun, his face unable to hide a smile: "See, my friend has come back to find me..."

He gestured with the muzzle of the pistol at the group of soldiers, terrified and retreating step by step, and couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter: "Did you think breaking you was my biggest gain? No! No, no! Hearing this shout makes me happier than winning this battle!"

After speaking, he pulled his throat and shouted joyfully: "I’m here! Wes!"

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