Chapter 214 - 182: How Did the Art Style Become Like This?
The elderly Viscount felt a deep weariness as he watched the nobles, their expressions varied and their minds clearly scheming.
’How did this generation of nobles turn out like this? He remembered that in his youth, they all took pride in dying in battle!’
The elderly Viscount sighed. As he looked at the scene before him, recalling their assembly and the march here, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness.
’He remembered how brave and proud the nobles of the Caladian Empire had been in his youth.’
They pursued better armor, stronger warhorses, superior Martial Arts, and greater military honors.
Their names and deeds would be sung by Minstrels, their stories recorded in the annals of history, becoming objects of admiration for future generations.
However, as time went on, the new generation of nobles seemed to have forgotten these traditions.
They cared more about acquiring more Dinars, more fine wine and food, better clothes and beds, and anything else that could bring them material and spiritual pleasure.
They no longer took pride in dying on the battlefield; instead, they boasted of being able to live out their old age in peace.
This change chilled the hearts of the older generation of nobles. They began to doubt whether the future of the empire could still rely on this new generation.
They worried that if the empire ever truly faced a crisis, these nobles would not be able to step forward and defend it.
The Half-Beastman war from two years ago was a clear example.
That war should have been an easy victory, but the outcome stunned the older generation of nobles.
The empire’s nobles actually needed the emperor himself to organize a major campaign, and even had to use the Pioneer Bill to entice them to send troops.
This was unimaginable in their youth. If they had discovered a trace of Half-Beastmen, any one of them would have unhesitatingly gathered their Knights and soldiers and charged straight in.
But now, everything had changed.
The nobles preferred to hide in their castles, enjoying a life of comfort, rather than taking risks on the battlefield. They cared more for their own wealth and status than for the empire’s safety.
The elderly Viscount shook his head. He knew this war would be a turning point.
If they could defeat Henry, they might be able to reclaim some of the nobility’s dignity and honor.
He took a deep breath and shouted, "Prepare for battle! For the empire, for the peace of our eastern grasslands! For our honor, we must fight to the end!"
Hearing his cry, the nobles took up their weapons, preparing to mobilize their elite troops. This would be a battle of life and death; they had no path of retreat, only the way forward.
The fighting on the battlefield grew more intense. Henry and his army had completely shattered the Anti-Henry Alliance’s central defensive line and were now enveloping the enemy, pushing in from both flanks.
The shouts and screams on the battlefield were deafening. Henry and his phalanx of Heavy Armor Infantry were like an indestructible wall, their every advance putting immense pressure on the enemy’s central formation.
Henry’s battle-ax swung through the air, each fall accompanied by the enemy’s screams and a spray of blood and gore.
The Heavy Cavalry units streaked across the battlefield like bolts of black lightning. The thunder of their hooves and their repeated charges made the enemy lines tremble.
The lances and Heavy Swords in the hands of the Heavy Cavalry relentlessly reaped the lives of the enemy, and each of their charges lowered the enemy’s morale.
Henry’s armor was spattered with blood, making him look utterly ferocious.
Moreover, Henry felt as if he had an inexhaustible supply of strength. Before his ax, the enemy’s shields and armor seemed to be made of paper, tearing apart with ease.
For every one enemy his soldiers killed, Henry would slay an entire row.
No one could withstand a single blow from his battle-ax. His ferocity struck terror into the hearts of his enemies.
The Heavy Armor Soldiers worked in groups of five or six, their movements coordinated and efficient as they divided and slaughtered the enemy.
The swings of their battle-axes, war hammers, steel blades, and Heavy Staffs carried immense force. Under their assault, the enemy soldiers were like candles in the wind, extinguished in an instant.
Screams rose and fell across the battlefield. Beneath Henry’s ax, some enemies were cleaved in two. Such visceral scenes dealt a massive blow to the enemy’s morale.
The panic among the enemy soldiers could no longer be contained. Their faces were pale, and their legs trembled uncontrollably.
Henry’s army gave the enemy no chance to breathe. They continued to advance, their assault growing ever more ferocious.
Henry’s Heavy Cavalry units weaved back and forth across the battlefield, their lances and Heavy Swords carving bloody gashes into the enemy’s lines.
The number of bodies on the battlefield mounted. Henry’s army had slain countless foes, and the results were spectacular.
The soldiers of the Anti-Henry Alliance on the central front began to retreat subconsciously. Their morale had shattered. They could no longer face Henry’s army. The chaos in the center of the battlefield had reached its peak.
The officers of the Supervision Team brandished their whips and swords, trying to stop the rout, but their efforts were futile in the face of the fierce assault from Henry’s army.
This was no longer a case of being caught between a wolf and a tiger. It was more like a tiger in front and a yapping dog behind!
Compared to Henry and his men, the Supervision Team was a complete joke!