When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

The chaotic shouts still echoed in his ears.

Lannes, charging forward, could only hear the faint hum of the wind passing through his helmet.

The warhorses from Flying Grass Plain were all strong and sturdy, kicking up mud that flew two or three meters away.

Equipped with only three-quarters of thin iron armor and no horse armor, Lannes and his men were much faster than those heavily armored transcendent beings.

The cavalry advanced between the slowly converging infantry formations on either side, as if passing through two solid walls constantly pressing inward.

Through the eye slit of his bird-beak helmet, Lannes saw three rows of seventy to eighty shield carts in front of him.

About three or four of them had been blasted with holes by cannonballs and lay overturned on the ground.

Behind the rocks and shield carts, the guards cautiously got up, still shaken, carefully peering around.

Armored soldiers struck the heads of the guards who were squatting down for protection with their scabbards, shouting, "Still squatting? They're here to kill you! Run!"

Before the armored soldiers could rouse everyone, Lannes had already arrived with nearly a hundred cuirassier musketeers.

They naturally wouldn't waste their spring-powered guns on this group of people, but instead drew their sabers directly.

The distance of several hundred meters passed in the blink of an eye, and the guards, still in shock, saw a flash of cold light before their eyes.

The cavalry swept through the crowd, sabers slashing left and right.

As the cavalrymen passed, the guards fell one after another, their bodies twisted or even spun around by the sabers.

The uneven terrain of the battlefield did not affect Lannes and his men's charge.

Because beneath their warhorses' hooves, there was also the light of divine magic rising.

It proved that the monks of the Holy Path Sect could also use divine magic and blessings.

After one round of charging, Lannes reined in his horse, wanting to turn around and charge again.

However, as soon as he started, he found seven or eight enemy transcendent knights surrounding him.

"Go!" Lannes immediately assessed the situation.

"You think you can escape? You... hey, hey, hey!" The nearest knight captain's face changed from a sneer to astonishment.

In the blink of an eye, Lannes miraculously brushed past them at a distance of four or five meters.

Then, Lannes was like an eel, veering left and right, forcibly dodging multiple attempts to encircle him.

On the battlefield, Lannes's field of vision was only a slit in his bird-beak helmet.

But he seemed to have a divine eye, with an overhead view, and managed to bypass three or four enemy cavalry units.

However, the knights of Shattered Stone Plain were not all useless. At the last moment of escape, a knight squad charged out.

"Prepare to fire!" Seeing that he couldn't avoid it, Lannes roared, taking out a short-barreled pistol from the side of his saddle first.

The other musketeers followed suit, drawing their pistols.

The knight beside him even had the mood to joke: "Saint Father be praised, these dwarf contraptions are quite reliable, they haven't blown off my big toe."

On both sides of Lannes and his men's saddles, there were recoil dampers meticulously crafted by dwarf master craftsmen.

Usually, Lannes and his men inserted their pistols into the heavy recoil dampers, relying on the quality and incredible metal properties to lock the gears.

Before the battle, they had the holy gunners wind up the springs and insert them.

When needed, they could pull out the pistol and pull the trigger.

It was a pity that this set of equipment was expensive, and currently only the cuirassier musketeers were equipped with it.

"Stop joking, we're about to engage."

Extending his left arm straight, Lannes stared intently ahead.

He could already see the enemy's yellow feather patterns.

"Holy Wind!"

The mithril alloy firing pin of the pistol roared, and the five knights at the front immediately screamed and fell.

Hooves trampled over the fallen knights, sabers, longswords, hammer-spears, and lances clashed against each other.

Clangs and screams mingled with the sounds of pistols firing.

By the time the two sides passed each other, only one man on Lannes's side was lost, while the Shattered Stone Plain knights, who had more men, had nearly ten fall.

"Damn it!" The captain of the intercepting knights, Slavaak, raised his helmet visor, revealing an aged face. It was actually the old knight who had demanded a rematch that day.

He looked at Lannes's departing figure in disbelief.

Both sides were the strongest knights in their respective regions, and Lannes and his men even had lighter armor.

Obviously, Slavaak, as the captain of these eight cavalry squads, could not accept such a result.

"Chase them!" The old knight lowered his visor.

Ignoring the urgent drumbeats behind him, Slavaak decided to continue the pursuit.

Driving enemy knights to charge into the enemy formation was his specialty.

This was not only his path dependency in his decades of life but also the path dependency that the empire had inherited for hundreds of years.

Not everyone has a flexible enough mind to adapt to change.

Seeing a thousand knights chasing after him, Lannes smiled: "We've hooked a big fish."

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With a thousand knights following behind him, Lannes received reinforcements from five hundred knights dispatched by his main formation.

They retreated in staggered formations, holding back the Shattered Stone Plain knights, but not allowing them to lose track.

Fierce charges like those of the Edict Company or the Nicosac were rare in this era.

Cavalry charges were a game of brave men and madmen coercing cowards, with willpower accounting for three-quarters of the combat power.

Most of the time, the knights shouted fiercely, fought for most of the day, and in the end, the casualties were only single digits.

In some regions, there was even a tradition of knight duels.

After decades of peace, the knights' skills had deteriorated to the point where they couldn't even form a proper formation.

Relatively speaking, the knights' lethality against infantry and civilians was terrifying.

Seeing pillars of smoke and flags rising on the distant hillside, Lannes stopped entangling and headed straight for the main formation where the cavalry was gathering.

The Shattered Stone Plain knights above drank potions and simply followed.

As the sound of hooves grew closer, the gunners stood on the carriages, eagerly awaiting.

Soon, hundreds of knights bearing the iris flower flag appeared in sight, quickly approaching along the white line on the ground.

"Hey, hey, hey, we haven't entered yet!" Seeing the gunner not far away inserting an iron chisel into the slot, Lannes hurriedly shouted.

"I see it," the familiar gunner standing beside the sandbag cannon rolled his eyes.

"Praise Saint Thunder!"

A brown-orange cannonball grazed the warhorse's scalp and slammed heavily into the middle of a knight's collarbone.

In the horrified gazes of the crowd, the knight was actually flipped over in the air by the force of the cannonball and the pull of the warhorse beneath him before landing heavily.

When the knights' hooves stepped over the blood, they understood why those knights who had made contact were so terrified.

But what terrified them even more was the chorus of shouts below: "Praise Saint Wind!"

…………

Seeing the thousand knights failing to encircle, failing to charge recklessly, and failing to charge, Earl Latis gripped the hilt of his sword tighter and tighter.

"Can the shield carts continue to advance?"

"At most, we can restore half of them. The rest of the men refuse to go up no matter what."

Earl Latis took out a silver flask from his chest, took a sip of the potion inside, and then calmed down: "The enemy currently has only four formations, and we have eight. Ignore the others, press forward first. We'll never have a chance if we don't engage in close combat."

"What about Sir Slavaak's side?"

Earl Latis was angry, but he had anticipated this: "Let the Red Feather Arrow Knights go to support them, but don't attack rashly."

"Earl, the enemy's spring-powered cannons are too sharp. It's best for the knights not to..."

"Forget about the cavalry for now. The infantry is about to engage," Earl Latis interrupted the knight commander rudely.