The "sweep" order from the lord spread among the Cecil soldiers, and the pursuit battle has entered a nearly mechanized operational stage at least for the Cecil combat regiment.

Every day, scouts in front and spies placed in the noble coalition will send the latest information to the commander of the combat corps. Even without this intelligence, the noble coalition, which has completely lost order, can hardly hide its whereabouts when fleeing. The Cecil Corps locks on the large enemy at a distance of not far or near. As long as the opponent stops, the artillery bombing will be launched immediately, without normal food, no normal sleep, or even no time to stop, in fact, this is a test of willpower for both sides pursuing, but it is obvious that the test of the noble coalition will be even more difficult.

Cecil's soldiers had the opportunity to rest in shifts. After the victory, the surging fighting spirit of pursuing victory also inspired them to continue moving forward. The continuous destroying of garrisons in various territories along the way brought them enough supplies. After Cecil's local security, several successive reinforcements were sent from the direction of the territory, which further reduced the pressure on the pursuing troops.

In contrast, the noble coalition... they are quickly approaching their limit.

In fact, they had already reached their limit. With the noble private soldiers who had almost no cohesion or discipline in this era, when heavy magic crystal shells destroyed the entire vanguard troops, the noble masters and knights with extraordinary power, and the mages died on the battlefield like ordinary infantry, most of the ordinary people in this coalition had no intention of fighting.

One of the reasons why they continue to flee to this day is that the knights and nobles in the coalition are still trying to maintain their final dignity. Although the "fire explosion" of the Cecils is terrible, the extraordinary strong men who are close to them have a stronger deterrence against ordinary soldiers. The pressure accumulated by these "uppers" has been deeply imprinted in the minds of those serf soldiers, private soldiers, and young and strong soldiers, and are still barely maintaining the situation in the team.

Another reason is the propaganda made by Count Hosman before the war, and the rumors that are still circulating among the remnants of the coalition forces, many people firmly believe that the Cecils rose by relying on the practice of evil magic and blasphemy. The consequences of falling into the hands of the Cecils will be worse than death. Cecil's land is full of lies, sins, blasphemy and crazy confusion. Such unreasonable rumors should have been laughed at by the rational people, but they have taken root in the minds of those superstitious and ignorant private soldiers. With the ruthless pursuit of the Cecils and the terrible force, these prejudices have even allowed the noble private soldiers who should have no cohesion to persist until today.

But no matter how long they persist, their physical strength and will finally reach their limits.

The cold night wind blew across the plains, and the sweetness of spring bellflowers in the night wind, the knight Bartel from Critlan sat in a cold pit, and counted the time silently with his two knight companions and nine entourages. Around them were dozens of people, dozens of private equity soldiers, archers, coolies and serf soldiers from the Bartel area.

These are all the people who set out and survived from Baltel. Their lords were dead. More than one hundred of their brothers and sisters were separated on the way to escape. Even themselves lost contact with the large army before nightfall. In the nightfall, no one dared to light up the lights to find companions, and no one dared to call and call. Maybe they were walking next to the other noble corps. After they were separated, dozens of people who had finally gathered together could only gather in this dark and cold nightfall, quietly waiting for tomorrow.

Wait for that tomorrow that may not necessarily come.

No one spoke, even though a glow of the rising sun had appeared in the horizon, no one looked up and looked at the horizon. Bartel lowered his head, his blood-covered eyes staring at the ground beneath his feet. Hunger and sleepiness were tearing his nerves at the same time, making him not want to say one more word or do another action.

He has not slept for several days and nights, and everyone here has not slept for several days and nights. Even the extraordinary will be at the limit in this situation, not to mention ordinary people. Bartel now just wants to lie down, just sleep, just want to go back to his warm manor, drink a sip of hot ginger wine, and then sleep for three or five days, but he knew that he had no chance and he could not return to his manor, because just yesterday, his team had passed by that manor and was driven out by shells falling from the sky in a very short time.

Bartel reached into his arms and took out his last food in silence: a small piece of black bread as thick as wood. With his movements, the people around him also took out the last piece of bread, dried cheese, sliced ​​bread, or nothing.

These things were not their military rations, but they snatched from the fields or villages along the way on the way of escape, but in most cases they wouldn't even have the chance to grab a bite of food that the Cecils had been trying to drive them away in the deserted wilderness, just like wolves driving away the flock of sheep.

Without a grill or a cooking pot, the rising smoke will attract the "sky fire" of the Cecilians. This is one of the few useful experiences that everyone has summarized during the day of escape. This small group of escape teams delivered the last food to their mouths. Before the first ray of sunshine in the rising sun shone on their faces, they began to eat silently. Bartel bite the inferior black bread that he would never have eaten in the past, and his bloodshot eyes were full of fatigue.

He wants to sleep, no matter what the price he pays, he just wants to sleep now, he wants to eat enough, and then lie down, don't have anything, don't have anything to stop him.

A sharp howling sound came from a distance and flew over from a high altitude.

The sharp whistling was the language of the devil, the sound of death, disaster, and the sound of cursing the gods. At the moment the whistling sound rang, Bartel only felt that every pore in his body was tightening subconsciously, but before the muscles were about to subconsciously support him from the ground, his movements stopped for another stronger and more irrational reason.

He didn't want to get up, he just wanted to rest, he just wanted to stay here quietly, and go to his mother's life and dignity! He didn't want to get up!

Bartel's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked at the ground under his feet with almost gritting his teeth. Around him, two fellow knights, nine entourages, dozens of private soldiers, all stayed in place after a brief trembling and nervousness.

No one stood up, only a few pairs of numb eyes raised, and glanced around with a lifeless gaze.

A sharp whistling sound pierced the sky, and a terrifying explosion came from a distance. The ground under his body was trembling slightly in the explosion. It was a terrifying force that was enough to make the high-level knights and mages corpses everywhere. Bartel listened to the explosion that seemed not very far away, silently picked up the food in his hand and sent it to his mouth.

The companions beside him also made the same move: after a brief hesitation, they continued to eat.

The second round of whistles came from the air, and a moment later, the second round of explosions rang out into the world.

The vibration of the explosion and the weakness of his body caused the dry bread in Bartel to fall to the ground. He looked at the bread covered in soil almost numbly, reached out to pick it up expressionlessly, and continued to stuff it between his teeth, biting it fiercely as if he was chewing on wood.

The third round of whistling came, and the explosion seemed a little closer.

Even if the "Sky Fire Blast" fell on his head, he didn't want to get up! They didn't want to get up either!

They bit the remaining bread and bread, and the spirit of sharing of human beings even came out of the minds of some people. The people who still had food divided the food into two portions and delivered it to their long-awaited companions. Amid the deafening roar of the explosion of the sky, the knights from Critlan and the soldiers led by them silencedly ate the last food until the explosion subsided, until the unique stimulating aura floated to them after the magic explosion.

Then they sat quietly between the pit and the stone, lying, thinking and doing nothing.

When a "recycling team" of Cecil discovered this team, the team leader was shocked.

Several noble knights sat with dozens of private soldiers only a few hundred meters away from the last shelling. Half of them had fallen asleep, while those who were awake looked at Cecil's combat soldiers with numb expressions. The eyes that seemed like dead left a deep impression on the captain of the recovery team. Many years later, the captain of the recovery team described the scene he saw:

"... After crossing that limit, their will (the nobles and coalitions) were completely destroyed. They moved on the plain like walking dead, and stopped after they exhausted their strength, and sat anywhere. Our shells fell beside them, and they were completely unmoved. They would eat the last food and wait like that. Surrender? No, they were not trying to surrender. They didn't think about this at all. They were just there, but when we arrived, they cooperated to throw out all the weapons. The only thing they asked was to sleep... as long as they could give them a rest and let them do whatever they could."

On the eighth day after the battle of the Gravel Ridge, the fleeing noble coalition began to surrender in large quantities or stop in place, quietly waiting for the Cecils to "incorporate" them.

The Knight Philip and Wald Perridge saw the most incredible scene they had ever seen since they joined the army: people who had completely lost their fighting spirit wandered in batches like walking dead bodies, and capturing prisoners no longer required any battles, they just had to fire a few shots at the feet of those people, or throw a crystal grenade into the distance.

They will naturally stop, and even tie their hands up if they are given a rope.
Chapter completed!