"WAAAGH!!"
A deafening roar erupted from deep within the forest. Bone Tree, bare-chested, carried the heavy iron axe that had cleaved through three bandits. Bloodstains on his armor dripped through the plate seams, yet it did not slow his charge.
Over a hundred Orc Boyz followed closely, their iron axes and cleavers flashing cold light in the air. The clatter of armor mingled with their roars, forming a green torrent that surged towards Edward's direction.
The bandits at the very front had not yet recovered from the fear of the "Ambush" when they were struck by the Orc Boyz' iron axes—a rogue in leather armor raised his shield to block, but with a "Crack," the wooden shield split in two. The axe blade, its momentum unchecked, plunged directly into his chest, splattering blood onto the face of a nearby rogue.
That rogue, his legs turning to jelly from fright, turned to flee, only to be kicked down by an Orc Boyz behind him, his throat slit by a cleaver.
Bone Tree, leading the Orc Boyz, plunged into the bandits' formation like a chisel.
The greenskins were already fearless in the face of death, and the fury from their comrades being obliterated by cannon fire just moments ago made their eyes bloodshot. Some orcs grappled with bandits on the ground, biting at their throats; others wielded iron axes, bringing them down on the backs of fleeing bandits, each strike drawing a spray of blood.
The eight hundred or so bandits Edward had brought were merely a hastily assembled rabble.
They had pursued fiercely earlier, thinking of plundering the greenskins' armor and weapons. Now, being frontally assaulted by the Orc Boyz and chilled to the bone by poisoned arrows from the forest, they had lost all will to fight.
The bandits in the rear, seeing their comrades in front cut down in droves, were the first to break. Some threw down their weapons, clutching their heads as they ran out of the forest; some even dove into nearby bushes, unable to distinguish directions; a few clever ones simply lay on the ground pretending to be dead, hoping to escape the calamity.
"Don't run! I'll cut down anyone who runs!" Edward, riding a scrawny horse stolen from a merchant caravan, roared at the fleeing bandits, brandishing his longsword.
His personal guards also drew their blades, cutting down a few of the fastest fleeing bandits, attempting to stabilize the line.
But once the flight began, it was like a breaching flood—the bandits in the back pushed over the bodies of those in front, some even shoving the personal guards, just to run one step further.
Edward's vision darkened with rage. He swung his sword, cutting down a rogue who was shoving a personal guard, but he saw more and more people running.
The personal guards were swept up in the chaotic crowd, fearing to strike their own men even when swinging their blades. They could only roar in vain, utterly unable to stop the torrent of fleeing men.
Just then, a rustling sound suddenly came from the canopy of the forest—it wasn't the wind, but the sound of Death Crawler spider legs scratching against tree bark.
"Jump down! Slaughter these runaways!" Keziaz's sharp command rang out.
The next second, over three hundred three-meter-tall Death Crawlers pounced from the treetops!
The black spiders descended with a whooshing sound, their eight barbed legs directly impaling the backs of bandits, pinning them to the ground. The night hobgoblins on their backs flipped to the ground; some pulled out poisoned daggers, stabbing them into the hearts of the fallen bandits; others raised poisoned arrows, aiming at the backs of fleeing bandits—the dark purple arrowheads sank into bodies, and soon after, the bandits clutched their chests, collapsed to the ground, and twitched before falling still.
The night hobgoblins, like phantoms in the forest, rode their Death Crawlers, weaving through the bandits' ranks.
The spiders' webs ensnared fleeing bandits, while poisoned arrows and daggers harvested lives.
The already chaotic group of bandits now resembled a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered, only able to struggle and flee in vain amidst the greenskins' encirclement.
However, about thirty of the fastest bandits, using the chaos to their advantage, managed to break through to the edge of the forest.
They stumbled across the forest clearing, their eyes gleaming with the light of "Survival" as they saw the open Khyprian road ahead—if they could just cross this clearing and dive into the dense forest nearby, the greenskins wouldn't be able to catch them!
But as they ran two steps, they saw a familiar green figure standing on the small hill outside the forest.
Kurzadh stood with his hands behind his back at the top of the slope, a few pine needles clinging to his greenskin, a smoothly polished bone staff in his hand.
Behind him, a hundred hobgoblin archers stood in three crooked rows—some had crooked bows, some had quivers swaying at their waists, and a few Boyz secretly wiped sweat from their faces with their sleeves, making a bit of a racket.
But when Kurzadh raised his bone staff and pointed it vaguely towards the fleeing bandits, all the hobgoblins instantly fell silent, raising their longbows in unison, their arrowheads aimed at those thirty or so "fish that slipped through the net."
These hobgoblin archers were specially transferred by Kurzadh from Blackrock Spire—though their accuracy wasn't as good as the night hobgoblins, their shooting range was slightly greater, and a hundred arrows fired simultaneously were enough to cover the entire clearing.
"Fire."
Kurzadh's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached every hobgoblin's ear.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—"
A hundred iron arrows, whistling through the air, shot towards the fleeing bandits like a black cloud.
The rogue at the very front had just taken a step with his left foot when he was struck by three arrows simultaneously in the back, his body jolted, falling to the ground, blood gushing out along the arrow shafts.
A nearby rogue, startled, tried to dodge, but was pushed by someone behind him, landing directly in the arrow rain, instantly becoming a pincushion.
A few slower ones, seeing the dire situation, tried to run back, but were struck by poisoned arrows from the pursuing night hobgoblins, collapsing to the ground, twitching and dying.
Not one of the thirty-odd bandits escaped the clearing.
Their bodies lay scattered just a dozen steps from the Khyprian road, their blood staining the dry grass red, becoming the most tragic tombstones before their "path to survival."
On the small hill, the hobgoblin archers cheered excitedly, some even waving their bow arms—this was their first "All-hit" in a major battle, and even Kurzadh glanced back at them, a faint smile playing on his lips.
In the forest, Edward looked at the bodies in the clearing, utterly panicked.
He knew this battle was lost—the greenskins had set a trap, with orcs charging from the front, night hobgoblins encircling from the rear, and even the exit blocked by archers. Staying any longer would surely lead to being chopped into meat paste!
"Leader! Run east! There's a swamp tunnel over there!" A personal guard whispered to Edward, his voice trembling.
He was one of the few who knew about the secret tunnel in the camp, a tunnel leading deep into the swamp, which could bypass the greenskins' encirclement.
Edward suddenly snapped back to his senses, no longer caring about the lives of his subordinates. He reined in his horse, roaring at the dozen personal guards around him: "Follow me! Run east!"
With that, he slapped the horse's rump. The scrawny horse, pained, galloped wildly towards the swamp east of the forest.
The personal guards quickly followed, some even throwing down their longswords just to run faster.
They dared not look back, nor did they dare look at their comrades being slaughtered by the greenskins nearby. There was only one thought in their minds—run! Run out of this forest!
Bone Tree, in the throes of battle, saw Edward fleeing with his personal guards and immediately wanted to give chase: "Don't let that boy escape!"
"Don't pursue."
Kurzadh's voice came from the top of the slope. Bone Tree stopped, looking up—Kurzadh was waving at him, signaling him not to pursue.
Though puzzled, Bone Tree still halted. He watched Edward's figure disappear into the dense forest to the east, spitting fiercely: "That boy was quick!"
The fighting in the forest gradually subsided.
The Orc Boyz leaned on their iron axes, breathing heavily, their armor covered in bloodstains. The night hobgoblins, riding Death Crawlers, were counting the bodies on the ground, occasionally picking up dropped scimitars and iron swords from the bandits. The hobgoblin archers ran down from the high slope, gathering around Kurzadh, excitedly recounting their "Achievements."
Kurzadh walked down the slope, stepping on the dry grass, and approached the bandits' bodies.
He crouched down and picked up an arrow dropped by a rogue—the arrow shaft was ordinary poplar, but the arrowhead bore the unique forging patterns of Prince Patton's Fiefdom.
"A move by Prince Patton's Fiefdom, quite generous of him," Kurzadh sneered, already formulating a plan in his mind.
It didn't matter that Edward had escaped. As long as they caught the cloaked man, they could find out Prince Patton's Fiefdom's secrets. Moreover, they had stolen that cannon, and that debt would be settled with Prince Patton's Fiefdom sooner or later.
In the distance, Scarface was leading the hobgoblins, laboriously dragging the cannon towards the high slope.
The cannon barrel was stained with mud but perfectly intact. A few hobgoblin Boyz even lay on the cannon wheels, trying to help push, but Scarface kicked them away: "Be careful! This thing is worth more than your lives!"
The smell of blood in the forest gradually dissipated, replaced by the cheers of the greenskins .
The Orc Boyz were snatching the bandits' weapons, the night hobgoblins were collecting arrow shafts from poisoned arrows, and the hobgoblin archers were gathered around the cannon, curiously examining the "iron lump."
Kurzadh stood on the high slope, gazing in the direction Edward had fled, his eyes deep.
He knew Edward wouldn't run far—Keziaz had already sent people to watch the exit of the swamp tunnel.