Chapter 127: The Third Day of Holding the Line

Slaughtering a donkey is not a major event in itself, but at this moment, the donkey is the power source for the catapult. If the donkey is killed, the catapult becomes immobile, and dragging it back by hand would be exhausting. Although there are three donkeys, the space is limited; if one were killed in front of the others, what would the remaining two think?

Even a donkey knows the value of life, no matter how dull it may be. Seeing such a scene would likely make them panic, go frantic, or become wildly restless. While they might continue to work as usual, that possibility is slim. This is why Stadt was shocked; he did not yet know the staff had fled, but he sensed something was deeply wrong, and it was clear Kevin was hiding something.

Late at night, when Kevin and Stadt swapped shifts, Stadt saw Grey sleeping soundly and quietly asked Kevin, "What is actually going on?"

Kevin just shook his groggy head. "Go to sleep, don't ask. If you ask too much, you won't be able to sleep either. I'm staying with you all, anyway; I’m not foolish enough to trap myself."

"I have a strong psychological constitution; I need to know the truth," Stadt insisted sternly.

"In short, we need to hold out for three to five days. It’s a long explanation," Kevin shook his head again. "Get some rest. A fight could break out at any moment."

Stadt sighed in resignation and went to sleep, consumed by anxiety. These past few days had been truly exhausting; he could fall asleep almost the moment he lay down. Kevin, meanwhile, picked up a shovel and continued digging traps one by one. In truth, he was the most unsettled. What kind of storm lay hidden beneath this current calm? How could the three of them withstand it?

There were only two options: call for reinforcements or dig more traps. Reinforcements could only be summoned by the parrot, which was currently hidden in a tree hollow. He dared not let it fly openly, even though the dense, perennial fog might provide some cover. But they knew nothing of the bandits' strength or the mastermind behind them. If the parrot were spotted, it would be killed, which was too great a risk. If the enemy could monitor twenty detachments of the Thunder Knights simultaneously, who was to say they couldn't track a single parrot?

By the same token, he could not have it fly out directly. Sending for help was the most logical solution, so the enemy would surely be on guard. The fog grew thinner toward the perimeter, making it even more dangerous. Kevin decided it was better to have the parrot return to him, so they could look out for each other, and if the timing was right, send it out later.

The night passed. Despite their complaints, Stadt and Grey followed instructions. They both understood that this was not a routine drill; this was real combat.

At dawn, Robes and the bandit leader climbed a nearby hill. The fog was still thick, but it was relatively thinner at the summit. Looking across from one hill to the other, they could still make out some silhouettes. The shadow of the catapult remained very distinct, and the figures of people working beside it were still visible.

"Why haven't they left yet?" the bandit leader asked, puzzled.

Robes sighed. "It seems they don't intend to leave." As an earth mage skilled in building fortifications and traps, he could see at a glance the heap of traps Kevin had laid out—simple, yet effective. If the bandits charged blindly, the terrain advantage they relied on would shift entirely to the enemy, leading to heavy casualties.

Unless Robes acted personally, it would be no problem, but that would mean stepping out from behind the scenes. The two nations were currently on relatively harmonious terms, and he would never do that unless absolutely necessary.

Logically, the enemy should have received the order to retreat. Had they seen through the ambush? Or did they have other secret missions? Robes did not know who the commander of the five-wheeled catapult was; his information was not that comprehensive. As a powerful individual, he generally had little interest in the weak, considering a mere commander no different from someone hauling stone ammunition. He was far more interested in the machine itself, attributing the destruction of two regiments to it.

"Piss-pot Mage, shall we go?" the bandit leader started to grow impatient. "My brothers are tired of lying in ambush."

"Go ahead, then." Robes didn't say much; they weren't his men anyway. However, he offered a bit of advice: "Eat your breakfast, but don't eat too much. Rest for an hour before you move to prevent vomiting during the fight. That’s from experience."

"Got it." The bandit leader gestured with his chamber pot, mimicking a spell-casting motion. Robes understood his meaning, cast two Dust Clouds and a Tunneling Spell, and surreptitiously tapped the chamber pot. The bandit felt a weight in his hand, assumed the mage had entered the pot, nodded in satisfaction, and went down the mountain to assemble his men.

A moment later, the calm of the past two days was broken. A clamor rose from the foot of the hill, and a group of people wearing the armor of the Thunder Knights suddenly appeared. The figures were obscured by the fog, but the clanking of armor was unmistakable. Kevin and the others had spent years in the Thunder Knights and knew the sound of their own gear.

Kevin checked his pocket watch: 7:30.

"Oh, are they here?" Grey was quite excited.

"They are here," Kevin said, implying something else. "Wait until they are within 20 meters, then fire at will. Save your arrows. If you aren't confident in your archery, aim for their legs and make them roll down the hill."

Upon hearing this, the other two grew grave. Both had experienced life-and-death battles and remained vigilant.

"Hey!" someone shouted from the hill. "You lot up there, come down! We're retreating!"

The three exchanged glances. Kevin shouted back, "Retreating? Have the bandits all been wiped out?"

"Of course they have," the voice from below replied. "Come down quickly."

"So fast?" Kevin answered. "I don't believe it. How many did you wipe out?"

"A few hundred, maybe," the other side replied casually.

"How many is 'a few hundred'? Is two hundred a few hundred, or nine hundred a few hundred? Does it make a difference?" Kevin yelled back.

There was a pause below, and the group began to whisper among themselves: "What should we say?" "Just pick a number." "If it doesn't sound right, won't he be suspicious?" "Should we tell the truth? Report our own casualties to him?"...

"What are you bickering about?" Kevin asked impatiently. "The army has specialized record-keeping. Didn't you keep count?"

"Uh, 207," someone blurted out.

Kevin heard this: "Only that many? This place is crawling with magical beasts; how did they survive with such small numbers? What kind of skills do they have?"

"Cut the crap, get down here, we're retreating," the voice below said impatiently. "If you don't leave, we're leaving you behind."

At this, Grey grew suspicious and turned to look at Kevin. Kevin signaled him to maintain a combat stance while shouting back, "Who do you think you are? How dare you speak to me in that tone? Do you want me to tell the General when we get back and have you killed?"

"Alright, alright, sir, are you coming down?" The voice softened instantly. But this sentence immediately dispelled the doubts of Grey and Stadt. Kevin would never speak to anyone in the military like that, and no one in the military, hearing Kevin's tone, would respond in that way.

"Tell me, what kind of skills do those bandits have?" Kevin asked. "If you can't name a few, I'm not coming down."

"Fine, listen up," someone shouted back. "The bandits are formidable because, first, they aren't afraid of death because they have plot armor. Second, they progress rapidly because they have plot armor. Third, they are invincible because they have plot armor. Anyone who stands against the plot armor will be wiped out by the protagonists. We are invincible, hahahaha..."

Kevin: "..." The man’s logic was a mess, shifting from "they" to "we."

However, this seemed to resonate with those below, erupting into a chorus of "Hahaha!" Many were so excited their armor rattled. It took a long time for the noise to die down.

Kevin asked again, "Since they are invincible, how were they wiped out by you?"

The voice below: "..."

"Wait!" the bandit leader finally realized. "I think we've been played!"

"Fuck!" someone cursed. "Forget it, go up and get him! Kill!"

With a battle cry, the shouts from below rose in waves. Having spent years in the army, Kevin could tell there were at least a thousand men. Red lights flickered in the fog, clearly the aura of those with red Battle Qi, matching the strength of the three of them. Facing over a thousand men put them under immense pressure.

Fortunately, there was a cliff behind them, so the enemy could only attack from the front, and the catapult at the cave entrance provided excellent cover. Holding out for a short time was manageable.

Closer! Closer! The shouting grew louder, and the red aura intensified. From the thick fog, figures in Lobaul armor leaped out. For a moment, they felt disoriented, as if fighting their own men. But their hands were swift.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Arrows flew. None of the three were particularly confident, so they all aimed for the legs. Several bandits were hit and stumbled, falling to the ground, causing those behind them to trip over them in the chaotic rush.

The slope was at a forty-degree angle. The perennial fog kept the ground damp, and after Kevin’s work, there was hardly any grass left, making it very slippery. Once one person fell, they rolled uncontrollably, and those behind, caught off guard, fell too, rolling down like a snowball.

The sharp objects Kevin had buried in the ground had no effect on the bandits as they climbed up, but they became deadly during the descent. Broken blades and blunt edges now seemed razor-sharp; those rolling down suffered numerous cuts and were soon covered in blood. Those in armor fared slightly better, but most had none.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Kevin and his companions kept firing. There were always stragglers, and those in the middle now became part of the rolling mass, adding weight to those below.

"Stop! Stop!" someone shouted. "Get down! Get down!!!"

Many who were rolling reached out instinctively, trying to grab something to steady themselves. Some dug their fingers into the ground—the soil was soft enough for a warrior to do so—while others grabbed belts, hair, or even shoved fingers into noses.

Regardless, the bandits were still warriors; they didn't roll all the way to the bottom. About halfway down, they managed to stop. They scrambled up, rubbing their aches, checking their wounds, and cursing at the hill.

"That's enough! Let's go down and discuss this!" the bandit leader shouted, and led the bandits back down for the time being.

Inside the cave, the three relaxed slightly. They had repelled the first wave. None of the bandits had died, but at least a dozen had crippled legs and likely couldn't participate in the next wave. Still, with the enemy's numbers, this loss was negligible.

"This is a delaying tactic, right?" Grey said, still full of confidence. "As long as we hold out for a while, our main force will come to support us."

"Yes," Kevin nodded, though he felt conflicted. Stadt was watching his expression, and Kevin turned to smile at him. "It's fine, don't be nervous. The bandits aren't very smart."

As they spoke, a voice rose from below: "Kill!" The second wave of the attack began.

This time, the bandits had learned. They didn't charge blindly but advanced slowly. They held shields in front of them and crouched down at fifty meters, apparently intending to clear the sharp objects from the ground.

Using their bows to shoot at shields required imbuing arrows with Battle Qi, which was exhausting and not necessarily effective. Kevin decided to let them destroy the traps and stay calm.

With so many enemies, it only took a moment for them to advance. Crouching and holding shields, they covered their entire bodies, only occasionally peeking out to assess the situation. Some even fired crossbow bolts at them, but their aim was so poor that Kevin felt they couldn't hit a target even if he stood still.

"Watch out for traps!" The lead bandit discovered another mechanism, but because they were moving slowly, they retreated as soon as they touched it. All the bandits began stabbing the ground wildly with their weapons.

Grey was becoming anxious: "Aren't we going to counterattack?"

"Wait!" Kevin replied.

The three gripped their weapons tightly, watching as the bandits moved from twenty meters to ten. They could reach them in a few leaps, and all the traps in the vicinity were being exposed. These traps were only half-a-man deep, with sharpened wooden spikes at the bottom; they hadn't had time to dig deeper ones.

"Now!" Kevin suddenly gave the order. He picked up a stone projectile for the catapult and hurled it at a man.

Bang! The man was hit. Although it was thrown by hand, the height advantage and Kevin’s long practice of moving and throwing stones made it effective. The bandit instinctively tried to block with his shield, but was forced back two steps and fell into a trap.

A scream pierced the air. The man was stuck in the trap, trembling uncontrollably. Although the pit was shallow, the wooden spikes inside were long and hit the midsection of his body. Each trap had three to five spikes designed specifically for vital areas, so falling in meant a high probability of being skewered.

What did it matter if they had discovered the traps? The ground was covered in them; could they really be that careful while walking?

Bang, bang, bang! More stones were thrown, and more men fell into traps, screaming. Clearly, the bandits' luck was poor. Stadt even tried to throw stones further, hoping to trigger another rolling effect, but the bandits had learned their lesson: if one fell, those behind immediately caught them. Since they were moving slowly, the previous disaster didn't repeat.

However, no matter how lethal the traps were, they couldn't scare those who didn't fear death. When men fell, those behind them simply stepped on their shoulders, shouting, "Happy traversing!" and lunged at Kevin.

The three drew their swords. The melee was finally about to begin.