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King

Thousands of races coexist, where the sword and Magic shine together, the Human Race, Sea Race, Elves, Dwarfs, Orcs ... all rush to unfold the light of civilization, composing their epic tragedies! (A Lord's Farming Tale)

New Sea Moon · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
780 Chs

Chapter 30, Snail Moving Forward_1

"How admirable, claiming not at a loss!

The assembly of the Holy Religion's army is of great cost, destined to conquer the world, yet you've risked it all.

Even the Blood Moon Horn has been exposed prematurely, and yet you have the audacity to claim no loss?

High Priest, what exactly constitutes a loss to you?

Do we have to wait until the enemies attack and wipe us all out before it's considered a loss?

Or perhaps….."

Iman hadn't finished speaking when the masked man interjected, "Enough of this. I believe the High Priest didn't intend for these mistakes. But similar errors should not occur a second time.

Compared to the nobles who have ruled this land for countless years, the assets of the Skeleton Society are thin and cannot endure any further depletion.

We united from all regions with one goal, to overthrow the rule of the nobles, to step into the sunlight, and to ensure that our descendants won't live like rats.

Now, the opportunity has arrived. The enemy has abandoned the advantageous city and is resorting to open battle with us. If we defeat this Nobles' Allied Forces, the Southeastern Province will be ours.

Once we conquer the Southeastern Province, it will definitely shake the entire Alpha Kingdom, and those who are also suffering under the nobles will surely respond.

Using Alpha Kingdom as the base, instigate a wave of resistance across the entire continent, just as the rebellion that swept the whole continent three hundred years ago.

The victory will definitely be ours!"

"The victory will definitely be ours!"

"The victory will definitely be ours!"

...

As if injected with a fiery spirit, everyone roared with the masked man. It was clear that they unequivocally agreed with him.

Despite the dubious logic in the mysterious "Holy Master's" words, with magic aid, anything could be possible.

In the end, they are still a sinister cult organization. Regardless of the facade they present, their sinister core remains unchanged.

After boosting morale, the Skeleton Society transformed directly into a weapon of war, starting to mobilize.

The first wave of devout followers were sacrificed in the battlefield. As a result, the following recruitment efforts didn't progress smoothly.

However, this did not hinder the Skeleton Society. If they didn't want to enlist, they were conscripted. Once in the army, everyone was first given a bowl of "Courage Potion", then subjected to brainwashing. The fearless soldiers were then created.

Everything has two sides. These artificially matured "warriors" usually have low intelligence, and the more bloodthirsty they are, the more thoughtless they become.

They can be used as cannon fodder, but it's impossible to mold them into elite soldiers.

...

Watching the chaotic troop, Earl Piers, who was just berating someone, had a terribly gloomy face.

He was aware of the disarray in the Nobles' Allied Forces, but little did he expect it to deteriorate to such a degree. On the first day of departure, the serf soldiers began to descend into chaos.

It is well-known that the speed of an army's march is not determined by its fastest unit, but rather by its slowest.

In general, the larger the number of soldiers, the more inept members within the troops, the slower the marching speed. On the contrary, smaller units are more efficient.

On the first day of departure, soldiers were wandering astray, unable to find their regiments. Seeing numerous nobles looking for their soldiers everywhere, Earl Pier was livid.

All strategic speeding was nothing but a joke. Not only had the first four armies plunged into chaos, but the logistical Fifth Army was dragging their feet to the extreme.

No matter how far the frontline troops had gone, the Fifth Army only advanced twenty miles. And still, that was under Earl Piers' constant pressure, or else they would have been even slower.

As one of the troops at the back, Hudson had firsthand knowledge of it. It's not because of him causing troubles, it was because the procession of tens of thousands of soldiers naturally forms a long snake.

If we optimistically estimated, based on four people per line with one-meter distance between each line, a line of twenty thousand soldiers would stretch for ten miles.

As to the real numbers of the Allied Forces, Hudson wasn't sure. Anyway, only three hours after the departure order was received did his Tenth Regiment start to move.

Due to the lack of beasts of burden, the soldiers had to act as civilians, pushing the grain carts to move forward.

Asking the serf soldiers to push the carts aligned with their expertise, but the efficiency could not be relied upon.

A delay of three hours at the start, and then deducting two to three hours for midway rest, cooking, and setting camp, the real marching only summed up to five or six hours.

Under such circumstances, being able to guarantee twenty miles a day, the Fifth Army was truly giving their all.

Unfortunately, no one could appreciate their efforts. The furious Earl Piers, regardless of everyone's hard work all day, convened an expanded military meeting on a regiment level overnight.

Surrounding a cluster of bonfires and illuminated by the flickering flames, Hudson could faintly make out the gloomy visage of Earl Piers.

"Your Excellency, the main reason for the slow march is the Fifth Army's lagging. If not for being restricted by the logistical transport, we can easily advance fifty miles a day."

The one who arrogantly claimed this was Viscount Orlan, the legion commander of the Second Army.

If there were no serf soldiers, Hudson wouldn't be surprised even if they marched one hundred miles a day. But with those deadweights, a daily march of fifty miles was simply a joke.

They had attempted it during the journey, he once challenged the sixty miles a day march, but the result was enough said.

It only proved that the ancient military books made sense—"Those who pursue advantage in hundred miles will be defeated, fifty miles will be incomplete."

If they were to force the troops to march fifty miles a day and encounter the rebel army, then they would just cry. The exhausted soldiers would show them with practical actions what it means to completely collapse.

"Your Excellency, it is not our Fifth Army is lacking in commitment, but the road is too winding, and we lack enough beasts of burden for the carts, we can only rely on manpower, we have tried our best to speed up!

Also, today is the first day of action, and we started three hours late. To march twenty miles a day, everyone has given their best.

If everyone still has surplus strength, I suggest distributing the loads to each regiment, to collectively share the logistic transport pressure. This way, the speed should improve significantly."

Knight Charles bravely explained.

No matter what, the Fifth Army cannot bear the blame of delaying the march.

The first four armies are lightly loaded, only the Fifth Army is heavily transported. Demanding everyone to march at the same speed is sheer unreasonable.

"Knight Charles, it seems that your military quality needs to be improved! It is surprising that you conceived of distributing the loads, don't you know that the main forces should conserve their energy to meet the enemy at any time?"

Legion Commander Chris of the Third Army mocked.

Evading responsibility and shifting the blame is one thing; taking on the hard work of logistic transport is another.

All families have their problems. Merely normal marching could cause chaos. If the burden of logistic transport increased, the scene would be unimaginable.

Executing an evacuation, blaming others is a matter, taking up the tasks of logistical transportation is another matter.