133. Crushing the Enemy Forces

Upon witnessing their cavalry finally launching an assault, the Berserkers on the defensive line were overcome by a sudden, intense frenzy. Though they had been physically spent, they entered a second state of berserk rage. In an instant, countless enemy soldiers who had breached the front lines fell beneath their giant axes. When the attacking troops saw the defenders' cavalry emerge from behind them, they were thrown into complete disarray. No matter how their commanders roared and cursed, they could no longer stop the tide of soldiers fleeing in terror.

The enemy supreme commander, positioned at the rear, led his fellow officers in a hasty retreat. Even if the Berserkers’ primary target was not them, they knew that if they lingered in the path of the iron-clad cavalry, they would surely be trampled beneath the hooves of the Death Empire’s horses.

Caine and his cavalry had been watching their imperial brothers hold the defensive line all day, burning with impatience. Yet, without a signal from the young master, they dared not attack. They had watched in frustration as the enemy surged forward and was repelled, and they had witnessed their brothers being carried off the field, wounded and broken. Caine’s heart ached just as much as his fellow riders; now, at last, it was their turn.

The defenders on the line were by then long past the point of pursuing the enemy. Once the enemy forces shattered and fled, the defenders collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Only then could they truly relax and rest.

With only two hundred thousand cavalrymen, Caine could not inflict heavy losses on the massive enemy force. He watched helplessly as the soldiers scattered across the mountains, unable to catch them all, and could only pursue the largest group of fleeing troops. Caine had never imagined his debut would end this way, and he could not help but feel deeply frustrated. No matter how fast the cavalry moved, they were not fast enough to outrun men fleeing for their lives. After picking off the stragglers, Caine was forced to order a retreat as he watched the enemy soldiers disappear into the distance.

In this defensive battle, the Death Empire suffered over 120,000 casualties, with over 300,000 rendered incapable of further combat. The army had effectively lost half its strength, though this tally included losses from the Flying Dragon Empire and the Dragon Rock Empire.

The Flying Dragon Empire, deployed as a reserve force, lost only about thirty thousand men. The Dragon Rock Empire’s warriors suffered the fewest casualties, as they had acted in support throughout the conflict. Unlike the Berserkers, who had to hold the front line and consequently suffered the heaviest losses, the Dragon Rock warriors had fought with great coordination, leaving the enemy with nothing to show for their efforts but piles of corpses. They lost fewer than twenty thousand men. Upon returning to their empire, they would undoubtedly be regarded as an elite force. The miraculous Magic-Martial Empire suffered virtually zero losses; under the onslaught of their magical beasts, the enemy never even had a chance to get close.

At the cost of nearly five hundred thousand men, they had left one point six million enemy soldiers dead or broken before their lines. Though the result was impressive, Mo Fei could not help but feel sorrow for the heavy loss of life among the imperial troops. Aelin and Vivian stood quietly by his side. The elven warriors were the only ones who had suffered no deaths, but they faced an old problem: due to excessive string-pulling, many of them would likely never be able to draw their beloved crossbows again.

After the battlefield was cleared, Mo Fei sat on a high ridge, silently watching the flickering torches in the distance. He had not spoken since the enemy withdrew. Elder Ouff directed the logistics troops to carry away the wounded, while those with minor injuries were bandaged on the spot to rest and recuperate.

Mo Fei’s mind raced, reflecting on everything that had happened since his arrival on this continent. He had never expected to become an emperor, nor had he imagined that this land would be a stage for such endless cycles of the strong preying on the weak. His previous battles, during the founding of his empire, had been minor skirmishes with little to no loss of life.

It was only in the war against the Bear Clan that the Death Empire had first tasted true death—and it had been a heavy toll. But now, tens of thousands, even over a hundred thousand, of the empire's finest warriors had fallen before his eyes, and he had been powerless to stop it. What good was the power of magic when faced with the sheer scale of a vast army? Individual strength seemed so trivial. He realized he needed not just magic, but weapons that would spare his soldiers’ lives. But for now, his priority was to drive these invaders back into the sea. They would not be allowed to leave unscathed after inflicting such a heavy price on the Death Empire—never!

"Elder."

"Your Majesty..."

"I don't care how you do it, but by tomorrow morning, I want our warships at sea, cutting off their retreat completely. Tell them, no matter the cost, they are to destroy the enemy’s naval power."

"As you command, Your Majesty!"

"Caine."

"Young Master." Caine had been waiting for Mo Fei’s word.

"At the first light of dawn, as soon as you can see the path clearly, launch an attack. I will have the ballistae support your cavalry, but I cannot give you anything else; the others need to rest."

"Rest assured, Young Master. I won't let those wretches have an easy time." Caine was not satisfied with the day's results either. Having been sidelined, he felt the pain of watching his brothers fall even more acutely.

"Tell Elder Vider to accelerate the training of the new recruits. Teach them to use crossbows; that is the only way to build combat effectiveness quickly. Do not bother with anything else for now."

"As you command, Your Majesty!" Elder Ouff knew Mo Fei would not hear otherwise, so he agreed. He knew that training the new men with crossbows would yield quick results, whereas other training would take at least thirty days.

With his orders given, Mo Fei collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep.

Vivian cradled Mo Fei’s head on her lap, trying to make him more comfortable. Tomorrow would be a turning point. Aelin made up her mind to summon more elven crossbowmen from the kingdom; the alert could be largely lifted, as the enemy had retreated into the territory of the Doma Empire and no longer had the strength to divide their forces. Now, the enemy’s only goal was to consolidate their power to fend off Mo Fei’s revenge and find a way to board their ships and flee this hellish continent.

They had arrived with nearly five million men, but now, they were retreating with less than half. The losses were enough to give the enemy commander a splitting headache. Though they had fewer men, which meant more room on the ships, an enemy attack during the boarding process would be fatal. One side would be driven by a fierce desire for revenge, while the other would be desperate to run, with no one willing to be a sacrificial lamb. The outcome was all but decided, and the commander knew he had to tread carefully.

...

Dawn broke. In the enemy camp, the soldiers who had finally managed a good night's sleep felt they could finally relax. Little did they know, their relief was short-lived. A familiar, terrifying sound echoed through the air—the enemy cavalry had arrived. They had not expected such a swift counterattack. Before they could even dress or grab their weapons, the camp was breached. Countless arrows flew through the air, and those who did not fall to the shafts were trampled beneath the iron hooves of the horses. The enemy soldiers had not anticipated such a rapid retaliation. Having just rejoiced in their narrow escape the day before, they were forced to flee once more. The camp was a scene of chaos, with half-dressed soldiers running in all directions. Caine did not venture too deep; the enemy still had over two million men, and he knew that if he were surrounded, he would surely perish.

The ballistae caught up, and Caine ordered his cavalry to pull back, leaving the rest to the siege engines.

The ballistae opened fire. The sound of bolts tearing through the air at dawn was bone-chilling. The arrows were wrapped in cloth and lit with fire, as Mo Fei’s enchanted bolts had been exhausted and there was no time to craft more.

The burning enemy camp descended into total anarchy. Soldiers were separated from their commanders, and organization became impossible. Both officers and men scrambled toward the coast of the Doma Empire, believing it to be their only sanctuary.

If only they knew that the Death Empire’s invincible warships were already at sea, preparing to strike their naval forces, they might not have felt so secure.

Caine did not pursue the terrified enemy too closely; it was not worth risking his brothers’ lives at this stage. Driving them like this was far more effective. Launching a full assault only when the enemy finally collapsed was the optimal strategy.

Caine eased the pressure on the fleeing soldiers. He knew that if he pushed them too hard, they might be driven to a desperate, suicidal counterattack. With only two hundred thousand men against two million, surprise and psychological warfare were his only tools. By terrorizing a portion of them and letting that fear spread to the rest, he could create total confusion. This was what the young master had told him before he left, and Caine never doubted Mo Fei’s words.

Just as it was happening now, two million enemy soldiers had been thrown into a panic by mere harassing attacks. Caine stared in disbelief, thinking, "The Young Master is truly the Young Master. Even this works?"

Caine led his army in a slow, steady pursuit of the fleeing masses. The enemy commander could not believe his soldiers had been broken so easily. He saw that the enemy force was only two hundred thousand strong; had his men been disciplined, he could have crushed them. But that was merely a bitter fantasy. Now, he had no choice but to follow the retreating tide toward the Doma Empire’s capital. There, at least, was a sizable garrison, and with the capital as a base, he might still have a chance to regroup and fight again.

The enemy commander fled even faster, driven by his resolve. If Caine had known the enemy supreme commander was just a short distance ahead, and that he had been trailing him with such leisurely pace, he might have regretted it enough to bang his head against a wall.