"Charge!" Almost at the same time, Leiman shouted.

Lewen stared blankly at Leiman. Hoss falling from his horse, the back half of his head completely exploded, revealing a mixture of red and white mush. The broken helmet lay to one side, a bowl-sized hole blooming at the top, seemingly offering no protection whatsoever.

"Charge, all of you, go!" Then Lewen's voice also rang out.

No, he hadn't spoken at all! Lewen covered his mouth and looked behind him. The militiamen had eagerly swallowed the pills and started running, as if a wall of people was surging towards him.

It was the witch, he realized, the witch was imitating his voice. "Don't charge, stop!" he yelled.

However, his voice was like a tiny splash in the surging crowd. Some people heard his order and stopped, but more continued to charge forward.

"Quick, charge, break through the enemy's line in the middle, the town is yours to plunder!" Not only his voice, but also the voices of Dorn and other knights rang out in unison, and this voice drowned out all the noise, as if roaring directly in their ears.

Cheers erupted from the ranks, as if in response to the order. The crowd shouted the slogan "plunder" one after another. No one knew who started it, but it quickly resounded throughout the team. The situation was completely out of control. No matter how much Lewen shouted, he was drowned out by the excited roars of the crowd. He had to control his horse with all his might to avoid being carried away by the flood. The militiamen, as if they had lost their minds, surged towards the center of the avenue.

No, that's not right. They originally had no reason, especially under someone's guidance. After taking the medicine, they would enter a state of extreme excitement, and any killing would stimulate them further. At first, some people avoided Leiman lying on the ground, but later everyone trampled directly on his body. Lewen wanted to find Dorn and others, but found that they had been dispersed by the crowd. In desperation, he had to follow the direction of the team and gradually move towards the side of the forest—if he suddenly turned his horse sideways, he would likely be knocked down by the militiamen whose strength had been increased several times, and it would be difficult to get up again.

After breaking away from the team, Lewen looked around, wanting to find the witch who created the chaos and tear her to pieces. In his opinion, this was definitely a witch's conspiracy!

The 1,500 people who took the pills rushed towards the town's defense line, which was also a fatal assault for the prince. Even if the other side had a large number of new weapons, they couldn't withstand so many people, and the final result would definitely not be good. In a situation where both sides suffered, it was obviously the situation the witch was happy to see, so she was making trouble and inducing the army to advance without authorization.

"The witch who killed Leiman and created chaos should not be the same person," he looked at the few militiamen around him—they were all standing at the front of the team, witnessed Leiman's fall, and heard his order to stop. However, compared to the huge army, less than thirty people gradually approached, "One person's ability should be to hide their figure, and the other is to imitate voices. A witch cannot have two abilities. Find the latter, I want to tear her throat apart!"

……

Brian could see the enemy getting closer and closer from the shooting window, and the bunkers in front had already started firing.

His defensive position was located in the middle of the rhombus, and he had to wait until the enemy passed the purple markers by the road before he could fire—this waiting made him anxious.

Walking to the other side of the window, Brian looked back into the distance. White smoke kept rising from the artillery positions, and loud noises rolled by like thunder. They were the first group to get busy. The range of the twelve-pound cannons almost covered the entire battlefield. If you listened carefully, you could even hear the whistling of the shells cutting through the air.

"My God, they're running so fast!"

"Look at that guy, he's still running forward even after his hand was blown off by a cannonball."

"His Highness is right, are these still humans? They're just like demonic beasts."

Since the First Army was told during the pre-war mobilization that the enemies were all lunatics who had taken the Church's berserk pills, the opponent's momentum of charging forward in the face of gunfire not only did not scare everyone, but instead made them full of fighting spirit—after all, the First Army grew up fighting against demonic beasts.

"Captain, they're almost here!" someone reminded.

Brian quickly returned to his position and put his gun out the window—compared to the flintlock gun that needed to be reloaded after each shot, the new weapon distributed by His Highness was a qualitative improvement. He could fire all five bullets in one go, throw the cylinder to the recruits behind him, and then finish firing the spare five bullets. By this time, the recruits should have reloaded the bullets.

However, His Highness had emphasized during training that this method of suppressing fire could only be used when the enemy was within one hundred to fifty meters. When shooting at long distances, you should try to improve accuracy as much as possible, because the bullets for the revolver gun are very difficult to manufacture, and everyone is given a limited supply.

Brian deeply agreed. The brass shell for loading gunpowder was thin at the front and thick at the back, and almost every one was the same. Blacksmiths could never make such exquisite things. He knew that it must have come from the hands of a witch. Usually, everyone would collect the bullet shells and hand them over to Iron Axe, and after shooting training, there would inevitably be reloading exercises. A group of people would sit around in the center of the camp, following the operating procedures to insert the primer, gunpowder, and bullet into the distributed shells in turn, assembling them into new bullets. Therefore, he was reluctant to waste bullets on targets that were difficult to hit.

When the enemy crossed the purple marker, Brian took a deep breath, "Free fire!"

The soldiers had been waiting for this order for a long time. They couldn't wait to pull the triggers on the targets they had aimed at. For a time, the bunker was filled with gunfire. The enemies who first crossed the fire line were hit by the intersecting bullets on both sides. Blood splattered from their waists. They staggered two steps and fell to the ground. Obviously, they could withstand more pain than ordinary people, but they were still helpless when faced with large-caliber bullets.

Brian noticed that several people had jumped onto the top of the front bunker, wanting to sneak attack the soldiers inside from behind, but a thick iron door blocked them. He unhesitatingly turned his gun and shot down these exposed maniacs one by one. The reason for the rhombus layout of the bunkers was to provide mutual cover. Enemies who tried to go around the back would be strangled by the fire of the rear bunkers.

"Be careful, javelins!" someone suddenly shouted.

Brian saw a dense mass of black shadows bursting out from the center of the enemy's army. After crossing the highest point in the air, they fell towards the bunkers on both sides.

This distance is probably two or three hundred meters! He subconsciously shrunk his head into the pit, only hearing a series of crackling sounds above his head. After this wave of attacks, he stood up straight and found that not a single javelin had been thrown into the fort. The situation in the bunker in front was similar. Only a few javelins were stuck in the wall, like lonely feathers.

"It looks scary, but it's useless," everyone laughed.

At this moment, Brian saw an enemy approaching the bunker he was in amidst a series of splashing dust, crouching down and throwing the javelin in his hand flat out. The moment the weapon left his hand, he was also shot down by the dense rain of bullets.

"Heads down!" Before his warning was finished, the javelin happened to pass through the shooting window and pierced directly into the chest of a shooter, who grunted and fell backward.