Chapter 60

At such times, there would be no court to uphold justice, and no one would stand up to speak out for these deceased villagers... Once they were dead, no lord would mobilize troops for this—such a massacre might be a once-in-a-lifetime unforgettable event for Soderl, but for the ruling class of the kingdom, such news would be forgotten after a few meals.

Anyone with a bit of sense would understand that the nobles had no reason to mobilize troops.

Because of this clear understanding in his mind, Soderl felt a deep sense of powerlessness along with his indignation, but what followed was a strong desire to fight the orcs to the death.

Whether these villagers were known to him or not, the orcs' actions were tantamount to a provocation to humans—he couldn't help but think... if he left silently, would he be the next one to lose his head?

After a brief cleanup of the battlefield, Soderl ultimately decided to lead his soldiers deeper into the grasslands. If they could find the orcs, they might launch a surprise attack; if not, they would give up. Although such behavior might sound rash, after witnessing the惨状 of Kri Village, no one objected to this decision.

It was only at such times that the hatred humans felt towards other races could unite them and unleash astonishing courage—especially since they knew that Rody and the Noland Village team were working hard for this cause, Soderl had no thought of "avoiding battle."

Hatred is that simple: you kill me, I kill you. If you can block, you block; if you can't, you die. There are no other possibilities, no second chances.

The hot blood in their veins once made the scouts on horseback eagerly anticipate the impending battle, but as time passed and they saw the flames on the horizon, they gradually realized that what was about to happen was a real, life-or-death battle.

"Prepare for battle! Form up!"

Looking at the approaching orange camp, Soderl loudly gave the order. The sound of swords being drawn rang out, and amidst the noisy hoofbeats, the fourteen scouts勉强 formed a conical charge. Because it was night, it was difficult to maintain the formation, and the horses' speed was not fast, so they moved unevenly, like a train about to lose control.

Soderl tried to control the speed to ensure everyone could maintain the formation until they reached the enemy—he knew that the fire on the grasslands was likely due to the camp being set on fire, and given Rody's previous actions, the two sides had probably already engaged!

He couldn't help but feel a bit excited. Regardless of how the upcoming battle would unfold, the appearance of fifteen mounted men would certainly have a demoralizing effect on the enemy.

Various thoughts flashed through his mind: if Rody was at a disadvantage, could a charge from his side intimidate the enemy?

If Rody just set the fire and fled, should they follow the trail?

Soderl thought a lot, but he never considered the possibility of Rody defeating the orcs. Logically, he didn't believe that a team of about fifteen people could have any significant impact on an enemy that had massacred an entire village.

"Prepare to accelerate!"

By the time he shouted this, the team was already within two hundred meters of the camp. Although they tried to maintain the formation, the first-time scouts were nervous in the darkness, and as the horses sped up, the formation on both sides began to scatter, making the entire team look like a wing that couldn't spread.

Soderl squinted, focusing on finding any possible enemies, but what suddenly appeared in front of them was something he hadn't expected.

A group of dire wolves appeared without warning in front of the team.

"What... is this?"

His mind couldn't process this information. Only wolves and no orcs made Soderl pause for a moment, and then instinctively turned the team to the side—because their formation was meant to kill orcs, directly charging into a dense pack of dire wolves would be meaningless and could cause unnecessary casualties.

But such a sudden change in formation immediately dissipated the team's momentum, and it was clear that they couldn't quickly regain their fighting spirit. Soderl understood the consequences, but he had no choice because his men's riding skills were uneven and they couldn't follow orders precisely.

The scattered scouts circled around the dire wolves, each one nervously looking at the burning camp, trying to find the enemy. They soon saw seven or eight strong figures with curved swords gathered together...

These were undoubtedly orcs.

The light from the burning camp allowed Soderl to see everything—the number of orcs, their positions, possible escape routes, and their combat capabilities. But when he turned to command his men, he was dismayed to find that the team behind him was completely scattered and couldn't be reorganized.

In frustration, he shouted, "Follow me," hoping to compensate for the formation's flaws with sheer momentum. But before he could charge at the enemies, he heard a strange sound of hooves from nearby.

Turning his gaze, a small team suddenly charged out of the darkness, appearing in front of him without warning.

His pupils dilated as he was completely stunned by what he saw—tall warhorses, a perfectly formed formation, armored soldiers with long swords, their eyes focused and determined, bodies leaning forward, and skilled, powerful swings...

The morale of the team reached its peak the moment the swords were swung.

Without a loud battle cry or chaotic slogans, the fourteen perfectly formed cavalry charged directly at the orcs!

Like a roaring flood engulfing a few tender blades of grass, the orcs were thrown back, their bodies trampled by the horses, and they fell silent.

Everything happened so fast that after the thunderous sound, Soderl and his team had only advanced fifty meters. At this moment, the lieutenant truly felt the powerful momentum of the charging team—honestly, he had seen many private guards of nobles and even led small-scale wars in his family, but he could understand the level of these knights!

If he compared his own men to them, it would be a complete humiliation!

In times of peace, knights mostly pursued personal martial prowess and never emphasized the collective coordination that could enhance the power of cavalry. Soderl had trained his men hard to make them combat-effective, but clearly, their coordination was poor, and the team that was supposed to have a "surprise effect" couldn't even organize a proper charge...

In contrast, the team in front of him truly charged with a standard formation and flattened the enemy, and from the chaos of the battlefield, it was clear they had been fighting for a long time!

This meant that after more than three charges, they could still maintain such a neat and sharp formation to cut down all the enemies!

Just a few glances left Soderl breathless.

He gradually stopped, and the cavalry also dispersed in the distance, seemingly searching for any survivors. From afar, he could hear someone shouting, "Good job, guys," and "Kill these damn bastards."

"K...Kart?"

The voice sounded familiar, and Soderl, with his excellent memory, immediately thought of the guy who chatted with the scouts in Noland Village. But in such a shocking scene, he couldn't confirm this fact.

No matter how he thought about it, Kart couldn't be associated with the cold and powerful cavalry he had just seen.

Looking around, the burning camp seemed to have no living orcs left. Various corpses were scattered on the ground, and squinting, he was incredibly surprised to find that none of them were human.

The scouts behind him also gradually stopped, their eyes wide with shock. Unlike Soderl, who could deduce what had happened from subtle clues, they were simply amazed. Their originally anxious hearts suddenly turned from extreme tension to extreme amazement.

"Dis mount, clean up the battlefield."

Soderl sighed, dismounted, and walked towards the burning campfire. He had already seen the figure by the campfire. Rody's distinctive armor and build were unmistakable, and confirming his presence, Soderl finally realized the truth—

This camp, which should have belonged to the orcs, had really been wiped out by Rody and a team of scouts.

As he walked towards the burning campfire, the scene before him had a powerful impact: the burning campfire illuminated the sky, but the figure sitting by the fire remained calm. Upon closer inspection, he noticed something on the ground in front of him, being roasted over the fire.

Next to Rody, orc corpses were scattered everywhere. Those farther away mostly had arrows in their throats, while those closer had their chests slashed open or their heads cut off.

Rody's hands were wrapped in linen bandages, with some blood seeping through, but he had no other wounds. His curved swords were on the ground beside him, the quiver leaned against the side with only one arrow left, and the horn bow was thrown at his feet. His gaze was fixed on the fire, slightly lost in thought.

"Rody, I—"

"Bringing the men over?"

Turning his head, Rody smiled, his expression unchanged from usual, but Soderl felt a bit uncomfortable seeing such a smile in this context.

Thinking of the massacred village, he couldn't respond with a smile and simply nodded.

"Have you eaten?"

"Ah?"

Soderl was taken aback, not expecting Rody to ask such a question.