Chapter 14: Forming Ranks!

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The chattering howls, though lacking in deterrence, change the situation entirely when they come from hundreds of twisted, horrific-looking Mutated Fishmen!

Matthew was not worried about the busy soldiers; watching the swarm of Mutated Fishmen approach, he felt a sense of disbelief.

"It shouldn't be like this; it's rare for Mutant Creatures to gather in large numbers."

"Once they can't get enough blood food, they will engage in a fierce battle with fellow mutants."

"That is the inevitable path once they enter deep infection!"

"But now, it's completely different, isn't it?"

"Could it be that something unusual has happened to the Scarlet Moon?"

"Or is it that among these group of Mutated Fishmen, some Advanced Level mutants have emerged!"

Regardless of the reason, it was bad news for both Matthew and the caravan.

Fortunately, Butler Ralph's professionalism was praiseworthy.

Even though he hadn't anticipated an attack and encirclement by Mutant Creatures under the influence of the Scarlet Moon, he had prepared a variety of weapons and consumables in advance for dealing with different kinds of enemies on the road.

Each soldier exchanged their shield for a broad ironwood one, firmly planted on the ground. The smaller and weaker Mutated Fishmen could hardly push them back.

Hundreds of Longspears were distributed, at least bolstering the Cart Drivers' courage so as to prevent panic or collapse.

Meanwhile, Butler Ralph solemnly took out two glowing red scrolls from the space bag and handed them to Matthew.

Fireball Technique Scroll×2!

Originally intended for dealing with the Trolls in the Dark Forest around Bay Village, these two scrolls alone cost 200 Gold Coins from the procurement funds.

Using the Fireball Technique from his own Magic Wand would still consume Matthew's Mana, but compared to the backlash of casting beyond one's level, a 50% consumption of Mana was quite a bargain.

The Magic Scrolls were different.

With only a small amount of Mana Points, they could release the full power of the spell, and the potency was fixed, depending on the Spellcaster's ability who made the scroll.

Simply put, a Magic Scroll is a disposable item, the otherworld's version of Rocket Artillery!

With these two scrolls, Matthew's combat ability had another layer of assurance.

But this time, Matthew did not hurry to unleash them on the onrushing Mutated Fishmen, instead letting the enemy approach.

He saw the crimson eyes of the Mutated Fishmen, their malformed multiple arms, the blood-colored tentacles protruding from wounds, the nearly vanished scales, their beast-like crawling postures.

Undoubtedly, these Mutated Fishmen were more deeply contaminated, even starting to look nothing like Fishmen at all.

Howling, they surged through the mud and puddles, like a blood-red tide, rushing forward with a bloodthirsty eagerness.

Leon, holding a shield, was a bit nervous, but fortunately, Elder John guided him:

"Don't push the shield out, if tilted, pull it inwards, release the impact through the support pole to the ground."

"There's nothing to fear from the Mutated Fishmen, their attacks are weak and slow-moving, swarming over just like handing us money..."

This time Elder John did not lower his volume. This was not only for Leon, but also for the other nervous soldiers around.

Captain Sean, with plenty of combat experience, glanced at My Lord standing up and quickly chimed in:

"Right, we normally cut through these Merfolk very easily, ten of us taking down a hundred is no problem."

"Moreover, killing Merfolk on normal days yields almost nothing, at most dismantling some hearts for 5 silver coins."

"Now, though, they're quite valuable..."

Distracted by the two veterans, the previously tense soldiers reconsidered and felt they were right, and began to chuckle.

Leon, who had been holding his breath, keenly sensed the captains' intentions and deliberately said in a simple-minded manner:

"So many Fishmen, how many Gold Coins could we get?"

The long-waiting Butler laughed heartily, pulling out a bulging purse from his chest, grabbing a handful of glittering Gold Coins and generously shouted:

"Plenty of Gold Coins to go around, depends on everyone's luck, but I hope to find at least 30 sets of materials."

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"Additionally, the cart drivers participating in the battle will also enjoy the same reward distribution..."

"Wow, 30 shares of materials? That should be more than 100 gold coins, right?"

"You're so dumb, it's clearly 300 gold coins..."

"My goodness, over 300 gold coins? I can barely earn three in a whole year, so how much will we get later?"

"Didn't you listen to Butler Ralph? As long as you've participated in the battle, you'll get a share of the money."

"If you don't do anything, at most you'd get 30 silver coins, but if you put in some effort later, you shouldn't miss out on a gold coin!"

"A gold coin?"

Not only were the soldiers' eyes gleaming, but the cart drivers, who had long been salivating, were now spirited as well.

Seeing Ralph turn this life-and-death struggle suddenly into a bounty hunting event, Matthew felt a weird sense of deja vu:

"Wait, isn't this exactly what I just did? Ralph is quickly putting what he just learned into practice!"

While thinking this, Matthew saw the mutated fishmen slam into the defense line.

Bang!

Crack!

The hissing and the sounds of breaking bones merged into one, as the prepared defense line withstood the first wave of the mutated fishmen's assault.

Matthew watched the surging mutated fishmen envelop the convoy like a swarm of insects, gently touching the scroll, waiting for the right moment to release it.

Waving blood-red claws pattered densely on the shields, leaving behind bloody marks.

The soldiers sighed in relief as the impact was much smaller than they had anticipated.

"Hold on!"

Angela, keeping her composure, suppressed the desire to attack among everyone; only after all soldiers had come into contact with the mutated fishmen did she call out with a sense of release:

"First row, spear out!"

The long-suppressed soldiers, hearing the order to attack, violently thrust out their longspears and longspears.

Sharp metal spear points protruded uniformly from the middle of the shields, piercing the twisted heads of the mutated fishmen, drawing back fiercely with the blood spraying.

"Retreat!"

At the back end of each spear thrust out, there were two sturdy cart drivers.

Having mostly undergone militia training, they resisted thinking about the scene in front of their shields, and together they pulled back the spear forcefully.

The dark red blood stained the front end of the spear, and as it dripped slowly from where it touched the shield, it seeped into the soft mud below.

"Second row, advance and thrust!"

Under the leadership of Elder John and Captain Sean, the second row of spearmen thrust forward fiercely.

Resting on the upper edge of the shields, the angled longspears aimed downwards, instantly piercing through the brains or chests of the claw-swinging mutated fishmen.

"Retreat!"

With the short and forceful command, the dead mutated fishmen collapsed in unison.

The fearless mutated fishmen, without hesitation, stampeded over the bodies of their fallen comrades and charged forward.

In just a few breaths, the gap that had just been cleared was filled again by these horrific mutant creatures.

"First row, advance and thrust!"

The spear tips, dyed red with blood, rhythmically thrust out from under the support of the shields, efficiently reaping the lives of the mutated fishmen.

After a few rounds, the ground was littered with dead and injured mutated fishmen!

However, the cart drivers, who had expended bursts of energy multiple times, began to show obvious signs of fatigue.

The untrained among them didn't know how to conserve their energy during the intense fighting.

This was the difference between amateurs and professionals!