Chapter 433: The Battle of Karle Baron

"Ballistae, fire!"

Sssss!

Puff! Puff! Puff!

Ten massive crossbow bolts shot forth, like black lightning piercing through the slave army ranks.

In an instant, ten crimson mists sprayed into the air; each massive bolt claimed three or four slave soldiers.

This was still due to the angle.

If fired horizontally, each ballista bolt could easily pierce through five or six slave soldiers given their frail bodies.

Of course, even at this angle, with ten machines firing, Morar clenched his fists in frustration.

He wondered what a terrifying sight it would be if the slaves were replaced by orc warriors.

The losses would break his heart.

"Archers, fire!"

Sssss!

Soon, the charging slave army entered the archers' range.

Puff! Puff! Puff!

Though ordinary arrows inflicted little damage on orcs,

they were devastating against the slave army.

After one volley, at least thirty to forty slave soldiers fell.

"I have three thousand slaves! Even with your massive crossbows, you still can't stop their advance! When they reach the gate, it'll be the end of you two-legged sheep!"

Morar paid no mind to the slave army's casualties.

Slaves are expendable—kill more, capture more, breed more.

Today, as long as we take this Karle Manor, it's all worth it.

As if foreseeing Morar's thoughts, Gervas on the wall saw the slaves closing in, climbing the slope, and smiled faintly.

"It's time to deploy the spearmen!"

"Yes, my lord!" Commander Laurent replied, sprinting down the wall.

Creak! Creak!

The next moment, noise came from the gate.

"What's happening?"

"Great Leader, the castle gate is… is opening!"

"How is that possible?" Morar muttered the words, yet the gate opening was undeniable before his eyes.

First a narrow slit, then slowly widening fully open.

"What are these humans trying to do?"

Morar's subordinates exchanged glances—were these humans insane?

Facing such disadvantage, they actually opened the gate.

Of course, the orcs soon learned why.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from within the castle: "Spearmen, deploy!"

"Kill!"

In the next instant, human soldiers armed with spears surged out of the castle, forming ranks on the lawn beyond the gate.

In mere moments, they lined up on the lawn, completely blocking the six-meter-wide slope.

"Spearmen! Great Leader Morar, those are the humans' spearmen!"

Almost every orc remembered these human soldiers with their extra-long spears.

"Damn it!" Even without his subordinates shouting, Morar recognized them—these were the spearmen he had long coveted.

"Kill!" The slave army wasn't afraid of the spearmen.

The reason was simple: these slaves had never seen the spearmen's power.

Braving the arrow rain, they were almost at the slope's crest.

Seeing the mere hundred-man spear formation ahead, the slaves thought the enemy must be mad.

Why hide behind the walls? Why open the gate? This was suicide.

"Kill!"

When they were less than ten meters from the spearmen, the slaves roared.

"Spear formation—raise spears!"

"Kill!"

"Spear formation—thrust!"

"Kill!"

Puff! Puff! Puff!

Naturally, what met these ignorant slaves was the spear formation's brutal counter.

As spears thrust forward, crimson blossoms erupted—dozens of spears struck the charging slaves with perfect accuracy.

The once wave-like charge of the slave army faltered.

Yet the sheer momentum still forced many front-line slaves into the rear spear tips.

"Spearmen—withdraw!"

"Kill!"

"Spearmen—thrust!"

"Kill!"

But no matter how the slaves reacted, the spearmen acted without hesitation.

As seasoned veterans, they had long mastered detachment, becoming merciless killing machines.

"Damn it!" Now, the orc leaders and captains could no longer ignore this.

Because those mere hundred spearmen, using terrain advantage, had actually halted three thousand slaves.

This meant their plan to take the castle with slave forces was doomed.

"Great Leader, what now? The humans' deadly spearmen are truly here—those worthless slaves won't take this castle!"

"Since we've confirmed the spearmen are inside, we must complete the Beast King's orders, no matter what!"

"Send three hundred orc warriors to mix among the slaves and pressure the spearmen!"

"Also, assign one hundred warriors to the rear to prepare long vines."

"Then, with the bloodbat riders, we'll launch a different assault on the castle!"

Morar remained calm.

A mere baron's manor—he had a hundred ways to crush it.

And now that the enemy had deployed the spearmen, it didn't deter him—it only strengthened his resolve to take the castle.

Because these spearmen were his greatest prize—even if Willard's intel was suspicious.

As long as he killed these spearmen, this campaign was worth it.

"Yes, Great Leader Morar!"

The next moment, four hundred orcs moved.

One hundred headed toward the forest to prepare vines.

The other three hundred merged into the three thousand slaves.

Even though the ballistae still threatened them, their dispersion minimized casualties.

Once these orcs reached the slope and mixed with the slaves, they immediately pressured the spearmen.

They hid behind the slaves, using their strength to deflect spearheads.

Though the spearmen quickly adjusted, this brief gap gave the slaves openings to surge forward.

Fortunately, the spearmen were well-trained, with comrades skillfully covering each other's gaps.

Otherwise, the formation might have broken under the orcs' pressure.

Yet because of these orcs, the spearmen's kill rate began to drop.

Now, the spearmen were locked in a grueling struggle with both orcs and slaves.

And this was exactly what Morar wanted.

Time passed second by second—soon half an hour had passed.

This was far from Morar's original plan: to seize Karle Manor in half an hour.

But it didn't matter—the victory would still belong to the orc warriors.

"Great Leader Morar, the vines are ready!"

"Good. Have the warriors prepare—today we wipe out this insolent human force!"

"Yes, Great Leader Morar!"