Iron Powder and Spellcasters

   Chapter 279 Victory

   It was late at night, but Tartai could not sleep.

   Not only Tartai can't sleep, but Tartai's cronies can't sleep either.

The red feathers of the Tartai Department stayed up all night not because of the defeat at dawn yesterday - the slaves can be recaptured if they die, and the subjects can be recaptured if they run away. Damage the foundation.

   but because they were stuck on the river bank, unable to move.

  Where to go, the big and small bosses have been arguing for two days.

   "That face! Ladies and gentlemen!" The old slave Chahan advised bitterly: "Look at your feet, it's all black! There's not even a piece of turf the size of a palm! This is a dead place! Let's go! Go while you can!"

As Chahan said, he bent down and grabbed a handful of soil, with tears in his eyes: "Open your eyes, nobles! The two-legged people were so hard that even the grass roots were roasted to scorch! The weather is freezing cold, and the children can't find firewood for warmth. He, you can only burn the wet horse manure! Your eyes have been smoked and sick, how can you loot? In a few days, the horse manure will be gone!"

  Old Nuchahan wanted to leave, but the "nobles" of the Tartai Department didn't want to leave. The harvest of the plunder is related to their status and wealth, and even their life and death depend on the success or failure of the plunder.

   Immediately someone scolded Old Nuchahan: "Why is the crow screaming? The fire roaster ordered you and me to cross the river from here on out, but I can go if I want to? The fire roaster doesn't kill you, but he will kill the quiver!"

   Another red feather with gray beard said: "I can't walk, but I can't waste it. It's better to change the road, go upstream or downstream."

   "The way of the other ministries, can you and I go?" The person who spoke just now became more and more furious: "Father, father! Don't stop talking! Go! Fight! Your next decision!"

   It turned out that the one who spoke was Tartai's son.

   "Torge, don't be in a hurry." Tartai glanced at the eldest son, his eyelids jumped: "You are all right."

  Tatartai want to go? Neither do I want to. Now let go, aren't the hundred and ten subjects and slaves lost in vain?

   But he also felt that he couldn't afford it - the two-legged man was so vicious that he burned the West Bank to scorched earth. The Hurds fought by livestock, and livestock fought by grazing. If there is no grass to eat, how can you loot?

  I thought Pioneer was a rare fat man, but now he is in a dilemma, and Tartai has no regrets.

"I don't think there are as many two-legged people on the east bank as we are. In yesterday's battle, they lost a lot." Tartai looked around, and the jerky in his hands was about to be twisted into floss: "Tomorrow Divided into left and right wings, and crossed the river from the upstream and downstream respectively, and my flag was left here to catch the people on the other side."

   "What if you are seen through?"

   "It's okay to be seen through, go to a place as far away as a horse and cross the river. If they follow, you keep catching them. They only have two legs and can't go very far.

  If they don't see through, you just wait for me to feint from here and attack them from behind. "

  [Note: "One horse is so far away" refers to a day's journey for a horse, about 10km]

   "What if it doesn't work?"

   "If it doesn't work, you and I will leave! You and I have tried our best, and the fire-boilers can't blame you and me."

   The red feathers of the Tartai Department couldn't think of a better way, and they agreed to Tartai's strategy one after another.

  Chahan was Tartai's personal slave, and his status was an extension of Tartai's authority. Although worried, Chahan could not object to Tartai's words.

  The red plumes and feathers of the Tartai Department demarcated the left and right wings, so they stopped arguing and went back to their tents to sleep.

  Chahan also returned to his lodgings. He had no tents - none of the people of Terdun below the headman had tents.

   In winter, the weather turns colder, colder during the day, and colder at night, so ordinary members can only keep warm with hot stones in their arms.

  Chahan's son and grandson also went out with the army this time. The father and son were guarding the bonfire and did not sleep.

   "How? Father?" asked Chahan's son.

   Chahan shook his head.

   Looking at the smoke-smoked eyes of his son and grandson, the old man sighed heavily and lay down wrapped in a leather robe.

Chahan's grandson fiddled with the horse dung eggs vigorously, and said angrily: "If the battle is lost, you and I will die. If the battle is won, the leaders will share the wealth. They are like wolves who have tasted blood with great difficulty, of course they won't. Relax easily."

   "Shut up!" The middle-aged Hurd man whispered to his son: "I heard that Yan, pull out your tongue!"

"If he doesn't pull up for a day, I will talk about it for a day." Chahan's grandson stubbornly pouted with his father: "People who come and go say that even ordinary members of the Chihe Department can get money. But Taltai headman? He puts everything in his saddlebag, and he doesn't give a single horse's shoe to his followers!"

  The middle-aged Hurd people couldn't say anything about their son, and taught angrily: "The Chihe Department is the Chihe Department, and the Terdun Department is the Terdun Department."

   "There are no more golden people! What kind of Teltown department?!" Chahan's grandson said louder and louder.

   "Shut up!" The middle-aged Hurd jumped into a rage, rounded his arms, and slapped his son fiercely.

   "Boom!!"

   It was as if thunder exploded in his ears, and the mouth shook so much that the earth trembled.

  The horses neighed in horror, and the old man Chahan jumped up, not looking like an old man.

   "What sound?!" The old man Chahan's eyes stared like a cow.

   "I..." The middle-aged Hurd was at a loss: "...hit him in the mouth..."

   "No!" The old man Chahan shouted: "No!"

   Red light flashed.

   "Boom!!"

  Zhenlei exploded right at the feet of Chahan's ancestors and grandsons this time. Invisible fragments flew in the air, and a wave of air instantly pushed Chahan down.

  Chahan's head hit something hard, his eyes went black and he lost consciousness.

   Thirty meters away from the Tartai camp, Winters, whose hair was still wet, held a saber and ordered sharply: "Get ready!"

Eighteen warriors crouched in the darkness behind    Winters, each with purplish lips and trembling uncontrollably.

   In front of Winters, there are four carefully selected burly warriors.

  In order to avoid the Terden sentry, twenty-two warriors followed Winters from two kilometers upstream, swimming in sheepskins across the river.

  The Hurds may not have imagined that they inadvertently taught the enemy how to use sheepskins to gain buoyancy.

   Each of the four burly warriors raised a palm-sized iron grenade to the height of their eyebrows, and a long lead extended from the top of the iron ball.

  Winters passed behind the four, he didn't strike the scythe, but the four powder strands had already started to burn.

   "Throw!" Winters shouted.

  Like ancient discus-throwing contestants, the four burly warriors strode up to run, rotated their bodies in a full circle, and used all their strength to push the grenade towards the Tartai camp.

  The hissing grenade disappeared into the darkness, and Winters' roar even drowned out the dull explosion: "Come on!"

  The iron smelted by the little blacksmith Carlos from the iron peak ore is of poor quality and brittle. But Winters found a use for brittle iron—making grenades.

  By improving the process, the weight of the grenade produced in Tiefeng County has been reduced to less than 1kg.

   The lighter weight eliminates the need to use the "hammer" throw - a method so dangerous that the slightest accidental grenade will fly over allies.

  Everyone was running, the horses were neighing, and the Tartai camp was in chaos.

  The Tartai Department, who lacked the cold protection equipment, used sticks to arrange the horses in the outer circle of the camp to block the wind.

   Bright light, gunpowder smoke and loud noises, any of which can cause a horse to lose control, let alone all three stimulate the horse's senses at the same time.

   A frightened horse occupied by the escape instinct kicked the surrounding horses wildly, broke through the rope, and ran towards the night.

   More frightened horses rampaged through the camp, trampling the crowd, spreading panic to more horses and people.

   "Don't panic!" Tartai ran hoarsely and shouted: "Open the rope rails! Disperse the horses!"

  The rumbling sound of the snare drum covered Tartai's desperate cry, and the sight in front of him would make the knees of the Tartai staff go weak just by looking at it.

   Hundreds—no, thousands of torches swept out of the embankment like a gigantic wave, hit the river bank, surfaced, and pressed toward the west bank.

   is actually going to cross the Dajiao River by force!

"What? How could it be?" Tartai grabbed a slave beside him who was trying to escape, red eyes, and incoherently asked: "Defend us! Two-legged people must protect you and me! Why? They Why cross the river?"

   The usually submissive slave had a fierce look on his face, he pushed the face away fiercely, struggled to get on a horse without a bridle and no saddle, and walked away without looking back.

   "Father!" Tartai's son took two personal guards and found Tartai in the crowd: "What should I do?"

   "Fake!" Tartai suddenly woke up: "Two-legged people never have so many soldiers, those torches are all fake!"

   "What shall we do?"

   "Draw your sword! Get on the horse! Go to the river bank!" Tarta roared with a savage face: "Come up and kill one!"

   At the same time, on the east bank of the Big Horn River, Bart Haring's voice was so hoarse that it didn't look like a human voice, and he was still trying his best to shout: "Shout! Shout! [Hedde] Tartai is dead!"

   In the battle at dawn yesterday, the two armies killed almost equally.

  Today eve, Winters took another twenty of the best sergeants and veterans.

  Bart Xia Ling had only a little more than one soldier left in his hand, and he was able to create such a big momentum by pulling out all the men, women and children who could walk in the Niu Hoof Valley.

  The soldiers rode on the raft made of door panels and logs, waving their arms and paddling fiercely, and sailed towards the other side of the river.

   And the mobilized civilians did not have the courage to cross the river to fight, all they could do was shout.

   "Shout! It's all **** shouting to Lao Tzu!"

   A chorus of shouts rang out: "[Hedde] Tartai is dead!"

   There are young children's voices in this shout, the vague guttural voices of old people, and the screeching voices of women.

   "Shout! Shout!" Bart Xialing was about to burst into tears: "If you don't shout again, the blood wolf will die! One! Two! Three!"

  People gradually let up their voices: "[Hedde] Tartai is dead!"

"one two Three!"

  The blunt shouts merged into one voice, soaring into the sky: "[Hedde] Tartai is dead!"

   "I'm not dead!" Tartai yelled angrily, beating the warhorse under his crotch like madness: "I'm not dead! I'm here!"

   Outside the camp, Winters with eyes like falcons pulled out his saber, and the blade pointed directly at the particularly conspicuous fat Hurd strong man: "There!"

  The twenty-two warriors no longer hid their tracks, took off their spears and jumped up.

   "That person is Tartai!" Winters seemed to have entered another personality, and all his emotions that had been suppressed for a long time were all released at this moment. He laughed happily, wantonly, and cruelly: "Everyone! Come with me!"

   But before Winters could take the first step, someone hugged him from behind: "No way!"

   is Shire.

   "What!" Winters shouted furiously.

   "You can't go!"

   "No armor! No horses! You are no longer a centurion! I am!" Tamas stopped in front of Winters, holding his spear high and roaring: "Follow me!"

  Tamas rushed to the enemy camp first, without shouting or shouting. Twenty warriors silently followed behind Tamas, like a pitch-black dagger piercing the enemy's heart.

"let go!"

"Do not!"

   Winters roared like thunder, and with a violent force, Ciel's right shoulder was forcibly dislocated.

  Ciel let out a scream, his left hand still gripping his right wrist tightly, and he did not let go.

   Perhaps awakened by the screams of Ciel, Winters slowly became quiet and silent, and his breathing and heartbeat gradually returned to normal.

  Ciel vaguely sensed that Winters' enthusiasm had subsided, he tentatively retracted a little force, but was still vigilant.

   "Okay." Winters said suddenly: "Let go."

  Ciel let go of his hand obediently, and stood with his right arm bowed.

   Winters threw the knife into the ground with his backhand, and silently connected Ciel to his right shoulder.

   "You said." Winters looked at Tamas, who was screaming and rushing, and said to himself, "Am I never going to have a chance to fight in person?"

Ciel didn't know how to answer. After thinking about it, he replied in a low voice, "At least not this time. The company commander is right. We didn't bring armor or war horses when we swim... If something happens to you, then... What can I do then?!"

   "Yeah. Oh, court mage, no wonder." Winters suddenly remembered an old man: "Forget it this time."

  Ciel nodded vigorously, thinking to himself, "It's better to forget it later."

   "Give me your spear." Winters flicked his wrist.

   "What are you doing?" Ciel hugged the spear vigilantly.

   Winters took the spear involuntarily. He calmed his breath, took four steps, and threw the spear with his body as smoothly as running water.

  The tip of the spear swept across the battlefield like a meteor, and a horse-riding red feather feather on the edge of the rope rail was thrown off in the blink of an eye.

   "Remember." Winters announced in high spirits: "In this battle, Winters Montagne killed one enemy."

  Charle took a deep breath and cheered to the quiet river: "Winters Montagne! Kill an enemy!"

   The raft carrying reinforcements touched the west bank, and the soldiers jumped into the knee-deep river, screaming and rushing towards the enemy camp.

  …

  The fighting on the west bank did not last long, and some firelights could be seen at first, and finally the light of the torches completely dimmed.

   But the hooves and the cries were intermittent until dawn.

  Batt Xialing, who stayed on the east coast, was anxiously waiting for the outcome of the victory or defeat.

   Not only Bart Xialing, but also thousands of civilians from Niuho Valley stayed on the river bank and refused to leave for a long time.

   Many people were praying in low voices.

  Finally, when the morning light was slightly revealed, someone shouted in surprise: "Snare drum!"

   "It's the snare drum!"

   "Snare!"

   "I heard that too!"

   is the snare drum! Bart Shalling couldn't hide his excitement, he ran all the way to the river bank, stood in the river, and cheered ecstatically.

  The commoners of the Oxhoof Valley also ran to the river bank, waving their hats and handkerchiefs and cheering from their hearts.

   West Bank of the Big Horn, Winters urged the drummer: "March! Hit hard! Louder!"

  The Tartai group has been defeated, the group fled, and the enemy chief Tartai himself was captured by Tamas.

   "It's a pity." Tamas' left arm and left leg were injured, and his face was pale: "The horses ran a lot, and only collected more than 200 horses."

"The meadows with a radius of dozens of kilometers have been burnt down, let Bart Shaling get some wheat seedlings, water, and a few mares in heat. Before it gets dark, all the horses that have run away can be found again. Come back." Winters laughed and said, "Lt. Cellini seems to be right. Grab it faster than anything else."

   The snare drummer blushed and thumped the march.

  The dust and blood were washed away with the river water, and the warriors waiting for the victory hummed softly.

   Winters always felt that something was missing.

   After thinking for a moment, he suddenly realized that the lyrics were missing.

  The marches, assembly songs, and assault songs of the army...all of them have no words. The soldiers could only hum along, but could not sing happily.

   "Come on! Come on! Get up!" Winters didn't hesitate, and a new 'judge' took shape in his mind: "Someone worships Alexander! Sing along!"

  The warriors did not know why, and repeated unevenly and stumblingly: "There are people who worship Alexander."

   "Someone admires Hercules!"

   "Hector, Lysander!"

   "There are countless names of heroes!"

   "But even the greatest hero!"

   "Not as good as the good soldiers of Plato!"

  Tamas followed the centurion and sang enthusiastically, but he couldn't hear the last sentence, so he added the last sentence according to his own thoughts.

  The cheerful singing gradually converged and finally resounded on both sides of the Big Horn River.

   "There are people who worship Alexander!

  Some people admire Hercules!

   Hector, Lysander!

  The names of heroes are countless!

   But even the greatest hero!

   is not comparable to the guards of the blood wolf! "

   [Magic changed the Grenadier March, and writing lyrics to the song should be a trend that began in the 18th century in the author's impression. The previous songs basically had songs without words. But let it show up here, it's good. The motivating effect of songs on the heart cannot be ignored. ]

   [Adjusting the time difference "successfully" - means that I didn't sleep last night, and successfully reversed the update time from 12 midnight to 12 noon. Whether it is successful or not... depends on whether there is an update at noon tomorrow...]

   [Thanks to book lovers for their collection, reading, subscription, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards and comments, thank you all]

   (end of this chapter)