Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 615 - 387: Pressing Forward

"It's simply unimaginable."

Ned Stark, the knight from Northern Europe, fighting as an Imperial Knight, reached out to catch the crystalline white frost falling into his palm, and couldn't help but shout: "It's the Wild Hunt from 'Demon Hunter,' accompanied by white frost and death when they move. They are symbols of disaster!"

"Damn it, could the monsters described in that storybook be real?"

"Pray to the Heavenly Father, look at what this world has become, even the dead can appear nobly on the battlefield."

For a moment, the Crusaders, already hesitant to advance, stopped in their tracks once again, turning their eyes towards Losa, waiting for his command. They would obey Losa's will, but it doesn't mean they lack their own judgment.

Most soldiers did not associate Losa with the Wild Hunt, this army of the dead, until the Wild Hunt had no intention of harming the Crusaders and charged straight into the undead army summoned by the enemy casters.

The frost covered those undead armies, making their already slow movements even slower.

One by one, the Wild Hunt Knights swung their serrated great swords, surrounded by chilling air, as they sliced through the black fog where the undead army was entrenched, like cutting melons and chopping vegetables.

But the number of these dead armies seemed endless, continuously emerging from the black fog, using rusty weapons, dismantled bones, and claws of stark white bones to retaliate without fear.

The Crusaders, still awaiting Losa's orders, began to discuss fervently.

"Perhaps it's Odin's messengers; in my homeland, Odin sends out the Wild Hunt army to pursue those supernatural beings, dragons, and evil spirits. Sometimes, He even drives a wheel-less war chariot, personally leading the Wild Hunt army to hunt."

"No, no, no, it should be Death God Wodan, or Goddess Freyja; they both govern war and death, responsible for capturing the souls lingering on Earth."

"Silence!"

"Continuing to discuss these pagan myths is an offense to the Heavenly Lord!"

"Indeed, don't forget, we are Crusaders under God's protection, the most elite warriors under Saint Losa!"

Hearing the discussions, Losa couldn't help but smile and shake his head. He gestured for the soldiers to halt, yet didn't utter a word to define this suddenly appearing Wild Hunt army. Perhaps someone guessed it was related to him, but the wise wouldn't proclaim it.

Moreover, most knights and cavalry present were professionally transformed, with loyalty fully assured by systematic conversion. Even those who hadn't transformed wouldn't develop any special ideas due to their trust in Losa, even if they knew Losa summoned this army of the dead.

"It should be ending soon."

Losa took out a watch he won previously; the pointer was nearly five minutes past since Cherinita disappeared from beside him.

...

"How can these things possess such pure death aura? Could it be that after they killed Mudeliji, they extracted that Evil God's divine power from him?"

Alam was somewhat moved.

Specializing in death magic, he could clearly sense the purest death aura engulfing these Wild Hunt Knights, which made him, originally contemplating escape, waver for a moment.

He didn't intend to fight Losa desperately but thought about negotiating a deal with Losa.

However.

His thoughts quickly froze.

The cold, swift sword edge severed his neck.

In a daze, Alam only saw a tall gray-haired woman wielding dual swords as her weapons, sighing lightly while stepping on his corpse: "It seems this target is a pauper, no need for Jeanne to intervene."

...

With Alam's death.

The black fog covering the undead army dispersed and vanished instantly.

This poor caster, having poured all his energy and wealth into researching undead magic, hadn't acquired any powerful protective tools, facing Cherinita's assassination like dead wood being shattered, dying at an extremely understated level.

The Wild Hunt army also transformed into black dots following Prajna's snap, permeating into the ground.

"Soldiers, the war among the dead ends here; next, it's our turn."

The Duke, riding on horseback, waved his newly forged lance: "Scatter them completely!"

"For the Heavenly Father!"

"For Saint Losa!"

"For Jerusalem!"

The Crusaders suppressed their doubts and, following Losa's command, charged towards the Saracen army, already showing signs of defeat.

They hardly encountered any organized resistance, the enemy's morale completely collapsed, a defeat was destined when the Crusader cavalry appeared on their flank without warning.

Half an hour later.

Only corpses and prisoners squatting on the ground, shedding armor and helmets, remained on the battlefield.

"Such is the cruelty of war."

Lavinia's eyes swept over the savaged corpses; the Crusaders didn't even have time to collect loot but only managed to briefly enshroud their fallen comrades before planning to continue advancing straight to Semanud City.

Face after face retained traces of pain and fear, with sporadic flies landing upon them, and the unafraid vultures pecking at the dead's murky eyeballs.

In less than half a day, these corpses would swell, rot, emit a nasty odor, and hatch disgusting maggots.

She couldn't help but bite her lip.

Uncertain if her recent weakening of the enemy was justified.

Fortunately, the main force was Losa's army, executing his orders thoroughly.

Lay down your weapons, and there would be no massacre.

But Richard's attitude towards the Saracens was entirely opposite to Losa's; he didn't see any hope of salvation for these Saracen soldiers, speaking aggressively: "If we don't kill them, are you planning to leave a squad of cavalry to guard them?"

Losa replied with composure: "Certainly not, Your Majesty, I will let them leave and arrive at Semanud City ahead of them."

"Simply letting them go would be better than executing them all. Anyway, these heretics and Copts are like crops in the field; cut one batch, and another grows. Only then can we deter those resistors. Tell them, as long as they resist, when the city is breached, the only path will be death!"

Losa's expression remained unmoved: "Your Majesty, God loves His chosen people, those who act unjustly shall fear them, that's what makes a wise king."

"Am I to let a Border Count teach me how to be a king?"

Losa's tone was slightly cool: "Then let me speak bluntly: I have more people, greater strength, so you must listen to me."

Richard couldn't help but curse.

"Your Majesty, I understand Gaulish."

Richard teasingly replied: "Yes, but you certainly won't understand the Norman countryside slang."

"We are going to attack Semanud City next, Your Majesty. I appreciate your efforts in this battle and am willing to grant your army the right to distribute the spoils, but I ask you to stop here."

"Losa, are you ordering me?"

"No, it's just a suggestion, because your army's strength is limited, appetite too large, historically, such people either starve because they don't get food or overeat to the point of death."

Losa looked coldly at