Like a giant beast, five thousand Knights charged through the Barbarian ranks. Five thousand people are a lot, enough to fight a small battle, but in a battle of over a hundred thousand, they might not even make a ripple before being annihilated.
But at this moment, these five thousand Knights were a giant beast, slowly breaking apart the cohesion and fighting power of another beast.
Countless Barbarians cried out and fled, panicked and lost, unable to find any escape. Behind them were a hundred thousand Knights, and here were five thousand Knights. They were so small, without weapons in their hands, or perhaps so terrified yesterday that they didn't even dare to resist.
Inglish's twelve hundred men might be able to hold them off with their elite plate armor and the ferocity of their Berserkers, but what good would it do?
He knew clearly in his heart that a hundred thousand Camelot Knights were in hot pursuit and would absolutely not give him time to reassemble the Barbarians.
This situation was a dead end!
His face turned ashen. This situation, which seemed to offer a glimmer of hope, was in fact a trap designed for certain death.
A surge of murderous intent welled up in his heart. So what if he died? Even if he died, he would kill so many Camelot Knights to be buried with him! The person who could make him, Inglish, surrender obediently and die has not yet been born in this world!
"There are boats! There are boats!!" But suddenly, a shout made his murderous intent melt away like ice and snow under the sun.
"Boats!" Inglish was overjoyed. Who would want to die in a foreign land in such a situation? To put it simply, who would want to die if they could live?!
"Seize the boats! Seize the boats!" Inglish looked. That row of boats was perfectly positioned, directly facing the port exit, a straight line with no other boats blocking it. They just needed to board and set sail to escape this cursed place.
At this critical moment, even Inglish couldn't care less. Perhaps that row of boats was too numerous for the Camelot people to burn in time, or for some other reason, but at this point, who would ask? Even Inglish couldn't hold back. Facing the shoving and panicked crowd, this was no longer just disorganized soldiers or a rout; they were blocking his escape route!
Inglish gritted his teeth, suddenly raised his axe, and roared, "Cut them down! Cut them down! Be the first to board the boats!!"
Immediately, the twelve hundred Berserkers' eyes turned red. Although there were quite a few boats, at least fifty, there were at least a hundred thousand people here. If they had to fight for them, his twelve hundred men might not actually get on a boat!
What to do? Only kill!
Carve a bloody path! Perhaps they could all get on the boats, but the five thousand-plus Knights behind them wouldn't give them time!
They were racing against time!
Seemingly noticing the unusual number of people in their group, that squad of Knights, led by the woman with the long braid, charged towards them.
To be honest, after running for so long, they couldn't even resist.
But the human will to survive cannot be ignored. The front two rows of Viking Berserkers drew small axes from their calves and threw them in unison at the Knights.
This attack indeed caught the Knights and Jeanne by surprise. They didn't have the dragon-hide armor treatment of the Royal Guards: the Knights of the Round Table. Even heavy barding had to temporarily avoid the sharp edge of these flying weapons, which rotated with centrifugal force, accelerated, and had armor-piercing capabilities.
They should be grateful for the sturdiness of the barding and the strength of their plate armor.
Moreover, a hand axe was not an armor-piercing, penetrating weapon like a javelin. It merely embedded itself in the armor of the front-row Knights, just deep enough to reach the flesh but not injure the bone. The warhorses, however, suffered more, with the axes fully embedded. But those who know horse characteristics should know that a horse's resilience is actually not inferior to an ox's. Even severely wounded, they can gallop for dozens of miles, often running until their last ounce of strength is gone, then foaming at the mouth and collapsing to the ground.
Some say horses don't have a sense of pain, but those who know and love horses know that a horse's loyalty is often the highest among all animals, second only to dogs!
Horses, warhorses!
Hooves flying, warhorses neighing, carrying their masters forward with endless anger and pain.
"Damn it!" Inglish shouted, "All troops halt, defend!"
It must be said that Inglish was a talented individual. His army was the only one among the over five hundred thousand Barbarians that could follow orders strictly. His prestige ensured that his troops, though somewhat hesitant, still rallied, continuously cutting down Barbarians beside them—whether Gauls, Anglo-Saxons, or their own kin—to maintain the integrity of their formation.
Each man cut down seven or eight. This one row alone resulted in over fifty people falling into pools of blood. The Barbarians were also observant. Due to their numbers and the scattered nature of their formation, they no longer had the dense, chaotic charge of last night. They couldn't break through Inglish's formation and didn't dare to, instead scattering and fleeing on both sides.
Inglish's eyes showed a sinister and vicious look. Looking at the situation now, this group of Knights was determined to get him and had no intention of letting him go. So, it was a test of who had harder teeth! Even if they wanted to devour him, he would make them lose a good tooth!
Inglish's heart filled with a desperate resolve. His troops knew well that two legs could never outrun four, but here, we must mention one person.
The commander of the five thousand Knights: Jeanne.
If Artoria were here, she might have directly led the Knights in a charge. If it were Grand Duke Andrei, he might have launched a pincer movement to annihilate this elite force. If it were Kailar, he would have let them go, making the situation even more chaotic.
But she was Jeanne.
Jeanne, with her incredibly keen war instincts, raised her hand. The Knights behind her abruptly halted. The horses, agitated by the hand axes embedded in their bodies, snorted restlessly. They were in great pain.
"Harassing attack!" Jeanne began to circle them on horseback. Accompanied by Jeanne, the Knights seemed to be starting to surround them. The tense Vikings, if they weren't careful, would be decapitated by a Knight who turned sideways and raised his longsword.
Inglish immediately saw through their intention. He shouted loudly, "They want to whittle us down! Charge towards the boats! Charge!"
Jeanne, holding a banner in one hand, a longsword in the other, and biting the reins with her mouth, gave a cold smile. Charge? In front of Knights?
Previously, she didn't have such good troops. Now that she had such elite Knights, if she still let this big fish escape... then she would have truly wasted all the things she learned at the Knight Academy!