Munitions Empire

"This is pointless, sir, if we rely on this breastwork for defense, enemy artillery will bombard our position, and we’ll lose half our soldiers," Tagg thought Tang Mo’s approach was simply a display of his own intelligence’s lower limit.

In that moment, he felt that although Tang Mo was truly a genius in weapon development, he really didn’t have a clue about warfare.

Recalling earlier, when Tang Mo was lecturing everyone on what future warfare would look like, he even found it somewhat amusing.

However, his opinion was dismissed by the obstinate Tang Mo, "Listen to me! This may be our only chance!"

"All right, I’ll have the local villagers help and build a wall here immediately," Tagg, feeling resigned, could only follow Tang Mo’s command on such minor matters.

He felt that once the battle began, the tense atmosphere and the harsh reality would force Tang Mo to hand over his command obediently.

Tang Mo then turned to Redman and instructed, "Good! Redman! I need you to make the most of this afternoon to train the soldiers again! Even if it’s just making them more familiar with tactical maneuvers, it will reduce our casualties!"

"I’ll do my best." Redman’s tone held a sense of somber resolve, as if he was sharpening his sword right before the examination.

Afterward, Tang Mo looked at Luff, "Luff! Take 100 men and build the wall at the designated place immediately, the rest of the troops will be led by me and Redman. We set out at nightfall, reach the fork by midnight today, and then rest immediately!"

"Yes!" Luff was somewhat nervous, but without any hesitation, he immediately nodded in agreement with Tang Mo.

...

Peering through his monocular telescope, Suthers’ famed general Tucci frowned involuntarily at the sight of the short wall laying across the roadbed not far away.

"You say, before nightfall yesterday, there was no such wall here?" he asked a knight standing beside him.

The knight nodded and replied, "Yes, sir! I personally led a scouting party here yesterday, and we didn’t see this short wall."

"This means someone has built this fortification overnight... On the other side of the road, the Northern Ridge’s troops must have already been stationed," Tucci said with some displeasure.

"General, we should launch an attack!" An aide-de-camp, on horseback, alongside Tucci, suggested.

"That’s not a good choice! We’ve just arrived here, and our troops haven’t had a chance to rest yet, plus... we don’t have accurate intelligence and don’t know how many enemy forces are on the other side," Tucci shook his head slightly, not willing to fight a battle in the dark.

He really wanted to know how that foolish Viscount Romel, one of his subordinates, managed to waste a whole two days here.

"Why didn’t you camp at this junction, huh? Why didn’t you send troops to occupy this village first, huh?" Tucci turned to the Viscount Romel beside him, asking indignantly.

"Gen, General... I, I..." Viscount Romel didn’t dare to tell his superior that it was because the forced march was so taxing, he had ordered to slow down, only arriving here yesterday afternoon. And because of his preference, he chose to set up a camp in a shaded area by the woods rather than stationing troops near the fork in the road.

So, he stammered, unable to give a clear explanation. But Tucci, already impatient, waved his hand, silencing the blunderer.

"General, there couldn’t be a very large force of Northern Ridge troops stationed here," the knight who had scouted the area explained: "Intelligence indicates that Fisheo only has 1,500 men, the Northern Ridge Legion is extremely elite, better at fighting than any of our legions...

However, Fisheo is arrogant and self-important, he hasn’t expanded or prepared his army after all this time, so that’s all the troops he has!"

"1,500 men? One legion?" Tucci retracted his telescope, tucking it into the leather tube by his saddle, his hands grabbing the reins as if in thought.

"So, even if he were to deploy troops here, he would have at most a few hundred men. That’s the limit he can pull from," the knight continued, seeing his commander silent.

"So!" he pointed towards the distant fork, making excuses for Viscount Romel’s incompetence, "Such an act of blocking the road with just a few hundred men, attempting to stop two of our army’s northward and eastward advancing troops, is pretty much no different from suicide..."

"Right! Right! That’s why I didn’t, didn’t care! They had too few men! My troops, with one charge, could take that place down!" Viscount Romel gratefully glanced at the knight, then spoke up immediately.

"I’m here to win wars for the Kingdom, not to listen to excuses," Tucci finally spoke, "Since you say you could take this place with one charge, I’ll give you a chance! Order your men to attack!"

"Yes, yes! I assure you, I’ll take the village soon!" Viscount Romel immediately accepted the order, taking a deep breath, feeling he had finally shaken off the dark cloud of delaying military intelligence.

As long as he could capture the mountain fork, all previous oversights would be irrelevant. And he was almost certain that the Northern Ridge military presence near the three-way intersection wouldn’t exceed three hundred men!

With a legion of 1,500 attacking a position held by 300, the advantage was clearly ours! Viscount Romel thought furiously, spurring his horse to return to the front of his troops’ formation.

"General Tucci’s command! Order our military to attack immediately!" He pulled on the reins of his warhorse, looked at the commanders of the 1st and 2nd battalions approaching him, and pointed towards the position ahead, "Take that intersection!"

"Leave it to me!" One officer nodded slightly, then dashed towards his own formation. His warhorse passed in front of the ranks of his troops, with soldiers holding their weapons, quietly awaiting orders.

"1st Battalion! Raise the battle flag! Beat the drums, advance! Battalion artillery, aim at those damned low walls over there, fire!" The commander drew his saber and pointed towards the direction of the mountain fork.

The military band started to beat the drums, the tight rhythm of the drums began to sound, and the soldiers stepped forward, moving slowly through the fields with staggered steps.

"Boom!" The battalion’s cannon belched white smoke, and the shells flew towards the embankment, striking the not so solid earth, sending up columns of smoke into the sky.

A shell struck the hastily constructed low wall, leaving a hole—since the wall was too thin, the shell even passed through without knocking down the approximately six-hundred-meter-long wall.

Due to calibration issues with the first round of bombardment, most of the shells either flew over the wall or landed on the embankment and fields, appearing loose and lacking in intimidation.

Subsequently, Suthers’ artillery fired a second round, this time with much better accuracy, as most of the shells hit the embankment. Dust filled the air, a sight to behold.

Unfortunately, the other side was still eerily quiet. There were no shots fired to embolden them, nor any proper cannon fire in response.

Standing aside, Tucci looked at the situation unfolding before him. Everything seemed just as his subordinates had described—the enemy apparently had no real resistance to mount, so this seemingly important location was actually a dead end.

If the enemy had really lined up near the village, they would be caught in a pincer movement by forces five times their size and ultimately collapse completely.

But Tucci still couldn’t understand why, if the enemy had no strength to fight a battle here, they would construct a low wall overnight. What was the reason? Merely to express their determination to resist or attempt to deter the invaders?

He thought to himself, as the troops belonging to Viscount Romel, forming a rectangular array, had already begun scaling the embankment beneath the low wall, driven by the stirring beat of the drums.

No gunfire was heard, only the sporadic sound of artillery echoed on the battlefield. Even the smell of gunpowder Tucci was accustomed to was not intense at this moment.

It appeared he had been overly concerned. Tucci thought silently to himself. He knew Fisheo was a tough general, but he hadn’t expected the man to be a merely a fool with an empty reputation.

Knowing that resistance was futile, and the outcome of the war had already been decided over Shireck’s wine table, this Fisheo still fancied he could single-handedly turn the tide of the entire war...

The Suthers commander, riding a tall horse, carried his saber on his shoulder, letting his warhorse walk at a leisurely pace, flanking his own soldiers, step by step approaching the roadbed.

In anticipation, the scene where the enemy would fire from behind the low walls did not materialize, and of course, he was also unaware of the damned term "reverse slope."

He did not know that even in the twentieth century, when weaponry greatly advanced, in the face of superior enemy firepower, a reverse slope was still the first line of defense for the disadvantaged, still a shameless tactic that caused headaches for attackers.

So, although the battlefield was noisy, not a single shot could be heard. It seemed, on the other side of the low wall, the Northern Ridge had not a single soldier left.

Fraught with unease, he finally reached the base of the roadbed without shedding any blood. He felt that Lady Luck stood on his shoulder, that this time the credit would surely go to him and his battalion.

Hence, the Suthers commander dismounted, lifted his commanding saber, and shouted loudly, "Climb over this! Long live Suthers!"

"Long live Suthers! Long live the King! Long live Suthers!" After encountering no resistance as they had imagined, these Suthers soldiers were also extremely excited. They rushed forward, weapons in hand, towards the low wall that seemed not very sturdy.

When the first Suthers soldier climbed onto the top of the low wall, he still did not see an enemy. He leapt down excitedly from the wall-head, onto the soft roadbed beside the muddy soil, and stepped onto the uneven dirt road.

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