Chapter 402 The Walking Dead

Orders to "clean up" from the lord spread among the Cecil soldiers, and the pursuit had entered a stage of near-mechanized operation—at least for the Cecil Combat Corps.

Every day, the scouts in the front and the spies who were placed in the noble coalition would send the latest information to the commander of the combat corps. Even without this information, the noble coalition, which had completely lost order, could hardly hide its whereabouts when fleeing. , the Cecil Corps locked the huge enemy army at a short distance. As long as the opponent stopped, the artillery bombardment would start immediately. There was no normal eating, no normal sleep, and almost no stopping. time - in fact, this is a test of willpower for both sides of the pursuit, but it is obvious that the test of the noble coalition will be more difficult.

Cecil's soldiers had the opportunity to rest in shifts, and the surging fighting spirit of chasing after victory also motivated them to continue to move forward. After the homeland was secured, several replacement reinforcements were dispatched from the territory, which further relieved the pressure on the pursuit troops.

On the other hand, the noble coalition... they are rapidly approaching the limit.

In fact, they have already reached their limit. In this era, there is almost no cohesion and discipline of the noble private soldiers. When the heavy magic crystal shells destroyed the entire forward troops, noble masters and knights with extraordinary power, and mages also When they died on the battlefield like ordinary infantry, most of the ordinary people in this coalition had lost the slightest willingness to fight.

One of the reasons why they are still fleeing to this day is that the knights and nobles in the coalition are still trying to maintain their last dignity. Although the Cecilian "Skyfire Explosion" is terrifying, the extraordinary powerhouses who are close at hand are not afraid of it. The deterrent power of ordinary soldiers is even stronger. The pressure accumulated by these "upper-level people" for a long time has been deeply imprinted in the minds of those serf soldiers, private soldiers, and young men and women, and they are still barely maintaining the situation of the team.

Another reason is the propaganda made by Earl Hossman before the war, as well as the rumors that are still circulating among the remnants of the coalition army-many people believe that the Cecils rose by practicing sorcery and blasphemy. Yes, falling into the hands of the Cecil will be worse than death, and the land of Cecil is full of lies, sin, blasphemy, and mad chaos, such unfounded rumors that should be laughed at by the sane, but Those superstitious and ignorant private soldiers are deeply rooted in their minds, and with the ruthless pursuit of the Cecils and the terrifying force of force, the force of these prejudices has even kept the noble private soldiers who should have no cohesion. persisted to this day.

But no matter how long they persist, their physical strength and will are finally reaching their limit.

The cold night wind blew across the plain, with the sweetness of spring bell grass in the night wind, and the knight Baltel from Critland sat in a icy dirt pit, with his two knight companions and nine squires. They counted the time together silently, and beside them, there were dozens of sparse people, dozens of private soldiers, archers, coolies and serf soldiers from the Bartel area.

These are all those who set out from Bartel and survived, their lords are dead, their more than a hundred brothers and sisters were lost on the way, and even they themselves lost contact with the large army before nightfall . In the night, no one dared to light up the lights to look for their companions, and no one even dared to call out other noble corps who might be walking beside them. The dozens of people who had finally reunited after being separated could only gather in this dark and cold night. Wait quietly for tomorrow.

Waiting for that tomorrow that may not come.

No one spoke, and no one raised their heads to glance at the horizon, even though the gleam of the rising sun had already appeared on the horizon. Bartell lowered his head, his bloodshot eyes staring at the ground beneath his feet. Hunger and sleepiness were tearing at his nerves at the same time, making him not want to say one more word and do one more action.

He hasn't slept for days and nights, everyone here has not slept for days and nights, even extraordinary people will be on the verge of extremes in this situation, not to mention ordinary people. Bartell just wanted to lie down now, just want to sleep, just want to go back to his warm manor, drink a sip of hot ginger wine, and sleep for three or five days, but he knew he had no chance - he It was impossible to return to his manor, because just yesterday, his team had passed by that manor, and in a very short period of time, he was driven out by the shells that fell from the sky.

Bartell put his hand into his arms, and silently took out his last food: a small piece of black bread as poor as wood, and with his movements, the people around him also took out the last food from his body— — Small pieces of bread, dried cheese, slices of bread, or nothing at all.

These things are not their rations, but they snatch from the fields or villages along the way, but in most cases they will not even have a chance to grab a bite of food - those Cecilians have been Efforts drove them to flee in the barren wilderness, like a pack of wolves driving a flock of sheep.

There is no grill, no cooking pot, and the rising smoke will attract the "heavenly fire" of the Cecil people. This is one of the few useful experiences summed up by everyone in the days of escape. The small fleeing party brought the last of their food to their mouths, and before the first rays of the rising sun hit their faces, they began to eat silently, Bartel biting hard on something he would never have eaten in the old days. Inferior brown bread, bloodshot eyes full of tiredness.

He wants to sleep, no matter the cost, he just wants to sleep now, he wants to be full, and then lie down, nothing, nothing to stop him.

A high-pitched whistling sound came from a distance, flying high in the sky.

This sharp whistling sound is the language of the devil, the voice of the gods of death, disaster, and curse. At the moment when the whistling sounded, Bartel only felt that every pore in his body was subconsciously tightening, but at the moment when the whistling sounded. Just before the muscles were about to subconsciously lift him off the ground, his movements stopped for another, more intense and irrational reason.

He didn't want to get up, he just wanted to rest, he just wanted to stay here quietly and go to his mother's life and dignity! He doesn't think about it!

Bartell's eyes were bloodshot, and he was staring at the ground beneath his feet, almost gnashing his teeth. Around him, two fellow knights, nine squires, and dozens of private soldiers, all of them stayed where they were after a brief period of trembling and nervousness. land.

No one stood up, only a few pairs of numb eyes lifted and glanced around with lifeless eyes.

The sharp whistling sound pierced the sky, and a terrifying explosion came from a distance, and the ground under the body trembled slightly in the explosion. Bartel listened to the explosion that didn't seem to be very far away, and silently picked up the food in his hand and brought it to his mouth.

The companions beside him did the same: after a brief hesitation, they continued to eat.

The second round of whistling came from the air, and a moment later, the second round of explosions resounded through the heavens and the earth.

The shock of the explosion and the weakness of his body made the hard and dry bread in Baltel's hand fall to the ground. He looked at the muddy bread almost numbly, reached out and picked it up expressionlessly, and continued to stuff it between his teeth. In between, biting fiercely as if chewing wood.

The third round of whistling came, and this time the explosion seemed to be a little closer.

Even if the "Sky Fire Explosion" falls on the top of his head, he doesn't want to get up! They don't want to get up either!

They gnawed at the remaining bread and pasta, and the human spirit of sharing even poured out of some people's minds. Those who still had food divided the food into two parts and sent it to the mouths of their long-starved companions. On the side, in the deafening roar of the skyfire explosion, the knights from Critland and the soldiers they led ate these last foods in silence until the explosion subsided, until the unique irritating breath of the magic explosion floated to them. .

Then they sat quietly between the pits and the stones, and lay, thinking and doing nothing.

When one of Cecil's "recycling squads" discovered the team, the squad leader was taken aback.

Several noble knights and dozens of private soldiers were sitting only a few hundred meters away from the last shelling. Half of them had already fallen asleep, while those who stayed awake watched Cecil fight with a numb expression. The soldier appeared in front of them, and the dead man's eyes left a deep impression on the leader of the recycling team. After many years, the leader of the recycling team described the scene he saw as follows:

"...after crossing that limit, their will (the nobles' coalition) was completely destroyed, they moved on the plains like walking dead, stopped when they were exhausted, sat anywhere, and our shells fell. Next to them, they're completely unmoved, they'll finish their last food and wait like that. Surrender? No, they're not surrendering, they don't even think about it, they just stay there , but when we arrived, they threw out all the weapons in cooperation, and the only thing they asked for was a sleep... It seems that as long as they can rest peacefully, they can do whatever they want."

On the eighth day after the battle at Crushed Stone Ridge, the fugitive coalition of nobles began to surrender in large numbers—or stand in place, quietly waiting for the Cecilians to "incorporate" them.

Knight Philip and Wald Perridge saw the most incredible sight they had ever seen in the military: people who had lost their fighting spirit roamed the plains in droves like walking dead, no more fighting required to capture captives, Just shoot a few random shots at the feet of those people, or throw a crystal grenade in the distance.

Naturally they would stop and even tie their hands themselves if given a rope.

On the tenth day after the battle at Gravel Ridge, the Cecil Combat Corps entered the western region of the South, and through a series of detours, they rounded a long arc around Carroll-Conskoe and Continue to "pursue" towards the Horsman Territory, and in the afternoon of this day, Knight Byron led a thousand support troops and a large amount of supplies from Cecil's mainland to complete the confluence with the Philip Corps.