But the Orc Cavalry's charge did not stop—the rear cavalrymen continued forward, stepping over the corpses of their comrades. They had fought countless fierce battles and knew that only by charging into the enemy lines could they negate the advantage of human firearms.
The most valiant heavy cavalry charged within a hundred meters, thrusting their long swords straight at the enemy, determined to tear through the human infantry's defenses.
However, they were met with another volley of flintlock muskets.
"First row, fire!"
"Second row, move!"
"Third row, move!"
The Northwest Legion infantry continued to maintain a continuous barrage of fire in three columns.
Lead bullets pierced Orc Cavalry's armor, and the warhorses, propelled by inertia, continued to charge forward a few steps before collapsing to the ground with a thud. The charging cavalrymen fell in droves as if crashing into an invisible wall, amidst the hail of bullets.
Finally, the first wave of orc light cavalry's advance was halted, and they retreated to both sides in resentment and anger.
Abar watched clearly from afar, his face ashen. He had never seen such an efficient killing machine—the human army seemed tireless, the rhythm of their artillery fire and volleys terrifyingly precise.
But he knew that even the most powerful army has its limits.
Paul stood on the command platform, his eyes fixed on the advancing orc heavy cavalry phalanx in the distance.
Even from a distance of nearly a kilometer, the oppressive feeling was palpable – thousands of heavily armored Orc Cavalry were lined up in neat ranks, their warhorses clad in leather and metal armor that gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
These heavy cavalry did not charge in a chaotic manner, but maintained near-perfect spacing and formation, like a moving steel wall. They held long spears, the tips of which were slightly pointed downwards, forming a deadly forest of metal.
The horses beneath them moved with remarkable unison, each stomp causing the dust in the distance to tremble slightly, as if the earth itself were making way for this army.
"It's unbelievable…"
Paul muttered to himself. The military eruditions he had read in his previous life always portrayed "fence-riding charges" as the exclusive domain of modern European cavalry, as if ancient cavalry would only charge in a scattered manner. But the orc heavy cavalry in front of him completely shattered his prejudices—they not only knew how to charge in close formation, but were even more disciplined than many modern cavalry.
The staff officer strode over: "Your Excellency, the enemy's heavy cavalry has entered close range of the artillery. Should we order the artillery to prepare?"
Paul took a deep breath, suppressing his shock, and calmly ordered: "Order the artillery to switch to solid shot and aim at the center of the cavalry formation. Fire only after they are within range."
Abar was personally overseeing the battle within the orcish ranks. He knew that heavy cavalry was the key to victory, so he deliberately preserved the most elite Royal Tent cavalry.
These soldiers grew up on horseback, possessing not only exceptional individual bravery but also rigorous training, enabling them to maintain tight formations during charges and crush the enemy with overwhelming force.
"Maintain formation!" Abar's voice pierced through the battlefield's clamor. "Don't rush the charge, advance steadily!"
The oppressive presence of the orc heavy cavalry grew stronger, and the Northwest Legion infantry unconsciously gripped their firearms. Despite their rigorous training, some began to swallow hard and break out in a cold sweat at the sight of such a massive cavalry charge.
Paul keenly sensed the soldiers ' tension and shouted, "Remember your training! Cannon will weaken them first, then unleash a volley once they're within range! No one can break through our defense!"
The officers immediately relayed the leader's orders, and the soldiers ' breathing gradually calmed down.
The gunners adjusted the angle, and the solid shot was loaded into the breech, just waiting for Orc Cavalry to step into the death zone.
The orc heavy cavalry in the distance suddenly accelerated, their horses first trotting before charging at full speed. Yet they maintained an astonishing level of discipline, like a giant hammer about to smash into the Northwest Legion's defenses.
Paul squinted, mentally calculating the distance—five hundred meters, four hundred and fifty meters, four hundred meters…
"Fire!" The commanders at each gun position gave the order in unison.
In an instant, dozens of Cannons roared simultaneously, unleashing solid shot that hurtled straight at the steel torrent of orc heavy cavalry.
Deafening cannon fire erupted in succession as dozens of solid iron balls tore through the air and slammed into the charging ranks of the orc heavy cavalry.
When the first volley of shells landed, the terrifying impact instantly tore several bloody gaps in the orderly cavalry formation.
A cannonball struck the cavalry captain in the front row directly, smashing him and his horse into a twisted mass of flesh. The cannonball, still carrying considerable momentum, continued to bounce, piercing through three more cavalrymen before embedding itself deeply in the soil.
Another shell swept across the ground, breaking the legs of horses and causing cavalrymen to fall, instantly shattering the neat charging formation.
The orc heavy cavalry's charge was halted, and the following cavalry had to tighten their reins to avoid the sudden collapse of centaur corpses and the wailing of the wounded.
Once a well-organized wall-riding charge breaks down, it can easily trigger a chain reaction—a few startled warhorses will run amok and disrupt the originally perfect charging formation.
"Don't stop! Charge forward!"
The orc generals brandished their battle axes and roared, but the second round of artillery fire followed immediately. On the smoke-filled battlefield, the orc heavy cavalry's charge was abruptly halted.
Abar's voice boomed across the battlefield, his bronze face contorted with rage. He drew his jeweled scimitar from his waist, the blade pointing skyward.
"Cowards retreat! Warriors, charge with me!"
His voice, like thunder, remained clearly audible amidst the roar of cannons: "The first warrior to break through the human defenses will immediately be awarded the title of Chieftain and receive ten of the finest warhorses and one hundred fat sheep! His family will be exempt from taxes for three generations!"
Encouraged by this immense encouragement, the chaos among the orc heavy cavalry gradually subsided. The survivors gritted their teeth, gripped their spears tightly once more, kicked at their warhorses, and trampled over the corpses of their comrades to continue their charge.
This time, however, they no longer maintained a neat wall-riding formation. Instead, they broke into smaller units and charged in loose wedge formations in an attempt to reduce casualties from artillery fire.
The artillery of the Northwest Legion continued to fire round after round of shells.
The orc heavy cavalry charge continued, but their formation was now shattered, torn apart into several scattered clusters by artillery fire.
The cavalry and their horses instinctively spread out in an attempt to reduce casualties from cannon fire and bullets, but this only greatly weakened their most powerful impact.
Abar, watching from the rear, saw it all clearly, veins bulging on his forehead. He knew all too well that the power of heavy cavalry lay in the overwhelming force of their concentrated charges. This loose attack was far less effective.
But once the arrow has been shot, there is no reason for it to turn back!