Chapter Thirteen: First Battle

“For honor, the orc warriors charge! Slaughter every human on the other side!” The chief of a tribe numbering over six thousand roared as he rushed forward.

A sea of green, like furious waves, surged toward Sun Li’s battle formation. The savage orcs, their speed far surpassing that of humans, charged straight at Sun Li.

“Crossbowmen, ready—fire!” With the orders echoing from the front ranks, two thousand crossbowmen split into three volleys, launching rows of bolts that whistled through the air.

“Loose arrows!” Immediately after, the English longbowmen in the rear unleashed round after round of arrows, their bows thrumming softly. By the time the crossbowmen had reloaded and fired their second volley, the longbowmen had already shot three rounds.

From above, one would see a tide of green halting about two hundred meters from the black-clad army, suddenly bursting with vivid red splashes. The advancing green wave stumbled, as if momentarily frozen, and only after this brief pause did the thinned mass surge forward again.

As the orc army pressed forward, trampling blood-soaked ground during the crossbowmen’s reload, the rear longbowmen’s rapid fire inflicted grievous casualties. Before the second volley of crossbow bolts arrived, over a thousand orcs had already fallen. Then came the crossbowmen’s dazzling triple volley; as the orc chief, eyes wide in disbelief, collapsed like a hedgehog, the remaining orcs finally broke.

In less than a minute, the orcs lost more than two thousand lives—a killing efficiency that left Sun Li in awe.

“All troops advance. Mamluk cavalry, circle behind the enemy to cut off their retreat. Exterminate as many orcs as possible,” Sun Li commanded in a deep voice.

Amid the thunder of war drums, Viking warriors, shield-spear troops, and pikemen all joined the massacre. On this battlefield, no breathing creature but humans would be left alive.

Relying on the scouts’ reports, Sun Li selected the largest orc tribe after the Tiger Tribe, leading his army straight to the entrance of their settlement. There, under the orcs’ noses, he arrayed his forces and slaughtered, provoking the orc chief to fury and prompting him to lead his entire tribe in a doomed charge.

“Clean up the battlefield quickly and form ranks for the next target,” Sun Li urged, determined to destroy as many small and medium tribes as possible before the Tiger Tribe caught wind of the invasion.

“Understood, commander,” the messenger hurried off to relay the orders.

While clearing the battlefield, Sun Li discovered some precious metal ornaments in the orc stronghold, and even several finely crafted, weighty Madrid gold coins.

A single Madrid gold coin could be exchanged for the resources of two units—far more valuable than the ore currency circulating among orcs. It appeared that currency in this world was indeed precious; robbery seemed a promising career.

This discovery drove Sun Li to leave no orc stronghold unplundered, enriching himself at their expense.

Over the next week, Sun Li led his army to annihilate sixteen orc tribes of various sizes, collecting over thirty thousand gold coins in resources. The Tiger Tribe’s sluggish communication finally picked up news of a human army sweeping through the borderlands, slaughtering and plundering orc settlements everywhere.

The Tiger Tribe’s chief, the Barbarian King, immediately issued a summons and spread word of the human invasion, urging border tribes to gather their forces and relocate their wealth for unified protection against human bandits—only to return home after defeating the invaders.

Soon enough, Sun Li, with his formidable battlefield reconnaissance, learned his movements had been exposed. No longer bothering to conceal his march, he unfurled the dragon banner and the flag of Song, boldly heading straight for the Tiger Tribe, intending to settle all enemies in the border region with a decisive battle.

Two days later, the Tiger Tribe completed its war mobilization. Along with summoned forces from other tribes, they amassed an army of over fifty thousand, including one thousand half-orc archers, two thousand tiger-headed assault infantry, more than six thousand elite orcs, and even an experienced shaman. With wolf cavalry, the Empire’s roster was nearly complete.

On a broad plain, Sun Li’s army, carrying the Song flag high, marched in proud, orderly ranks, forming two distinct lines.

The first line’s front three ranks were two thousand crossbowmen and longbowmen—crossbowmen up front, longbowmen behind—followed by two ranks of main force shield-spear soldiers. The second line comprised the remaining one thousand shield-spear troops and Viking warriors.

On the left flank, two hundred Mamluks stood ready. On the right, five hundred pikemen waited in formation.

The entire army arrayed itself in lines so precise they seemed drawn by ruler and compass.

Beyond that, Sun Li had placed ten ballistae and twenty torsion catapults within the formation.

The army stood two kilometers from the orc forces, and compared to the chaotic masses of the orc host, the contrast was stark. Yet the orcs themselves clearly did not see it that way.

“Cut off the humans’ heads! Tear their banners! Long live the orcs!” The Barbarian King shouted, and waves of goblins surged toward Sun Li’s lines. This assault was a full forty thousand goblin cannon fodder, their numbers endless; from Sun Li’s vantage point, it seemed the orcs could never be exterminated.

Yet Sun Li’s heart remained untroubled—after battling across a thousand miles, such sights meant little to him.

When the goblin horde closed to within five hundred meters, the ballistae thundered, sending meter-long bolts piercing through four or five goblins at a time, skewering them like candied fruit.

Next, rows of torsion catapults flung piles of disc-sized stones onto the goblins’ heads, the screams and cries rising in chaotic waves.

Even as the ground was littered with their suffering kin, the goblins—the most numerous cannon fodder among the orcs—pressed forward, howling, relying on their sheer numbers. But amid the crossbow and longbow volleys, wailing replaced howling as the dominant sound of the battlefield.

At this point, casualties in the thousands began to shake the goblins’ resolve; collapse was imminent. In this critical moment, the shaman and his apprentices began their chanting, and a strange power surged through the goblins. Where fear had once clouded their eyes, now burned a feral red, and their charge regained its highest speed.

The green tide, like a tsunami, crashed violently against Sun Li’s first line.

After three volleys, the crossbowmen and longbowmen had to retreat into the ranks, replaced by shield-spear soldiers clad in leather armor. They raised large, square shields and gripped short spears, forming tight ranks to face the berserk goblin assault.

“So this is Bloodlust. Its range is truly vast!” As Sun Li studied the spell, the frenzied goblins collided with the shield-spear soldiers.