This momentary chaos affected the knights fighting at the front, instantly splitting their thoughts in two. The brave knights, those indifferent to the King of Scotland, whose hearts were set only on glory and making achievements, charged towards the enemy's main force with a surge of momentum.
Meanwhile, the knights fiercely loyal to the King of Scotland, seeing the confusion in his main formation, immediately turned their horses around, attempting to go and rescue their lord.
Like being cut in half by a giant blade, some knights charged towards the enemy, while others frantically rushed back to their own formation.
The advantage of being united was completely lost.
The King of Scotland was still very popular, or perhaps it was the realization that they couldn't break through the enemy's thick defensive line; more and more knights, swept along by the crowd, left the main force and galloped back.
The knights charging towards Jeanne were now fewer than twenty thousand!
Even so, these twenty thousand knights were a very powerful force! They absolutely could not be underestimated, nor could they be stopped by their group of old, weak, and sick.
However, a cold, murderous sneer appeared on Jeanne's face, which closely resembled Artoria's. She, of course, knew that even twenty thousand knights could not be stopped by her nearly two thousand elites and over one hundred thousand old, weak, and sick. With just a swing of the butcher's knife, these twenty thousand knights could instantly rout these one hundred thousand people (a real case in ancient China, see history for details). But—did they have the strength!
Not the knights' strength, but the horses' strength!
Scotland's horses were inherently inferior to the elite warhorses of Camelot, which came from the plains. Without the means, they didn't even have the so-called hybrid demonic horses. Ordinary warhorses, after such high-intensity charges and battles, were already exhausted. If they hadn't been wearing light armor, they would probably have already stumbled and fallen into the mud by now, one after another.
How much impact force did they still have to dare to pierce through these one hundred thousand people?
Jeanne raised her banner, swung the longsword in her hand, and shouted, "Charge with me!!" The more than ten thousand strong men in the front ranks responded. This was Jeanne's last trump card!
As they crashed head-on into Jeanne's more than two thousand heavy infantry, the two sides began to squeeze their charging space, further compressing them together.
That's right! After the 'adding oil' tactic came the direct separation into two areas.
"Good!" Kayal exclaimed loudly, his unprecedented loss of composure making everyone look at him in surprise, wondering why.
Kayal, agitated, pointed at the formation below and shouted to Artoria and his students, "As the saying goes, seeing is believing. All I've told you is not as instructive as this battle today:".
Kayal took out his waterskin, took a sip to moisten his throat, as if brewing his emotions. He began, "The enemy commander's intention doesn't seem to be a decisive strike. Their goal is merely to disrupt the opponent's command rhythm and pace. It's like if either His Majesty or I were unaccounted for or attacked, it would expose gaps and weaknesses. At that point, a fatal blow or a swift retreat would both be excellent choices." Kayal instantly exposed the enemy's plan, even though the 'bystander's clarity' condition was at play. Still, his ability to instantly see through their scheme was a testament to Kayal's prowess.
"And the enemy's division has emboldened the enemy commander. From the looks of it, they intend to encircle and, in one fell swoop, take advantage of the situation to wipe out tens of thousands of knights. If given the chance, they will certainly sweep through the King of Scotland's main force, which is already showing signs of decline and defeat..." Kayal paused, as if considering his words, or perhaps the enemy's strategy—
"But, doesn't he feel bad about these nearly eight thousand elites?" That's right, the enemy's effective strength was now only about twelve thousand. If they abandoned the eight thousand men who ambushed the King of Scotland, these twelve thousand might seem like a lot, but in front of Camelot, they were no different from an unclothed young girl—to be toyed with however they pleased... What Kayal didn't know was that these eight thousand men were initially aiming for a decapitation strike!!
Although mounted, their combat effectiveness was not entirely on horseback. Upon approaching the King of Scotland's camp, they immediately dismounted. Under the leadership of Blue Hair, they began to form ranks and then stormed into the King of Scotland's camp.
Blue Hair had no doubt about the fighting power of his army.
That's right!
These, including the twelve thousand behind and beside Jeanne, plus the eight thousand by his side, were the strongest and most robust chosen from the four hundred thousand rebel soldiers!
Each of these strong and burly warriors, all over one meter eighty tall (roughly sixteen feet... I'll use terms everyone can understand to describe them), could rival a Gaul (Gauls of this era were synonymous with barbarity, but also with strength and power). He had reason to believe that this group of one-meter-eight warriors could instantly pierce through the King of Scotland's auxiliary knights (like supply soldiers...) and then reach the King of Scotland, swiftly beheading him to claim this honor.
Thinking that Jeanne would look upon him with favor and new respect, Blue Hair was practically ablaze with excitement. His face flushed crimson, he let out a loud shout and, with a single move, chopped open the outer railing, which was as thick as a baby's forearm, and charged in first.
In fact, there was someone even more hot-blooded than him—the King of Scotland!
It wasn't a burning of excitement, but a raging inferno of fury!
The King of Scotland looked furiously at the dense crowd opposite and the group of people gradually surging towards his command center, knowing that his objective had failed!
The grand plan had inevitably suffered a heavy blow. Scotland would be severely weakened, with no chance of victory against Camelot—no matter who won!
And everything was because of these people! These damned, bastard-born commoners! Son of a bitch!
The King of Scotland looked at them with a ferocious expression, then fiercely waved the blood-red banner, like a Red Dragon.
Camelot's banner was the Lionheart Shield (later, after killing the Red Dragon, the Red Dragon banner was emblazoned, but that's a later story, not to be detailed here). However, the King of Scotland's banner was a White Dragon! The Scottish people only allowed descendants of the White Dragon, believing the White Dragon could bring them luck and happiness. Now, what did a blood-stained White Dragon banner appearing on the battlefield signify? Everyone's hearts, friend and foe alike, rose to their throats.
Because this meant the King of Scotland was going all out!!
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