“Bang!”

The club swung by the man-eating demon struck Richard’s warhorse’s leg, sending the galloping horse flying forward. Just as the rider was about to be thrown off, Richard leapt from the saddle, abandoning all appearance of grace, and landed on the ground, rolling away to dodge several wolf fang clubs that smashed violently into the earth.

The fallen warhorse galloped a dozen meters away before coming to a stop, knocking over several allied soldiers and a man-eating demon in the process. The horse lay on the ground, its legs twitching slightly; it would not survive this injury.

“Die!”

On the other side, Richard, somewhat bedraggled, found an opportunity to rise after performing a few more backrolls. As soon as he stood, his fighting spirit surged, and he swung his long sword horizontally, imbuing it with energy. The blow severed the arm of the pursuing man-eating demon soldier, sending it and the wolf fang club flying from his grasp.

The demon let out a bloodcurdling scream, but the cry was cut short after a few seconds. Richard, completely unfazed by the blood spilling from the demon’s severed limb, followed up with a diagonal slash that decapitated the creature.

Both of Richard’s strikes were executed with immense hatred as he drew upon the maximum potential of his green energy. After all, who wouldn’t be enraged at having their horse taken by a demon warrior? Then, to be chased down on foot after landing on the ground was more than any person could endure.

Facing such an enraged foe, the elite armored demon warrior was helpless to resist. A single strike ended its life. After venting some of his anger, Richard scanned his surroundings, noting there were still many demons around. However, he didn’t pursue any of them and instead sped toward Hatch and Ron’s location.

“Stand your ground! Death to any who retreat!”

Baron Bandel’s voice was hoarse, but his actions were decisive beyond compare.

A supporting soldier witnessing a comrade’s head smashed in by a single blow from the ogre, the red and white of his insides splattering everywhere, had completely broken down and turned to flee the battlefield.

Yet, before he could run more than two steps, Baron Bandel cut him down.

On the side of the battlefield, the main force of the noble coalition, which formed the majority of their troops, began to show signs of instability.

The private armies of these feudal lords possessed a sufficient level of combat ability and fighting spirit, but that was only sufficient. Compared to Richard’s Flying Bear Army, these lords’ private armies fell short.

This disparity was not reflected in martial technique or combat skill; in terms of physical prowess, these soldiers who had undergone long-term training at camps were even stronger than most of the Flying Bear Army soldiers.

After all, the Flying Bear Army had expanded rapidly, and most soldiers had been enlisted for less than a year, leaving them with little time to hone their skills and abilities. Yet, the true disparity between the two forces was largely philosophical. In a sense, compared to the Flying Bear Army, these soldiers lacked a martial soul.

If Richard were asked for his thoughts, he would doubtlessly sneer contemptuously before tossing out a single line:

“Ah, a feudal army.”

In the annals of Bluestar’s military history, the greatest disparity between a feudal army and a modernized army, aside from armaments, lay in their fighting spirit and casualty tolerance.

An elite modernized army could tolerate casualties of up to fifty to sixty percent, but for an elite feudal army, the figure rarely exceeded twenty.

Under Richard’s leadership, the Flying Bear Army placed a greater emphasis on discipline and troop morale than their daily training regimen, resulting in a fighting spirit far surpassing that of the private armies under the command of various lords.

In terms of sheer combat prowess, these feudal lords’ private armies could be considered elite among their peers. In battles of moderate intensity, the differences between them and the Flying Bear Army were not stark.

However, what they now faced was a foe two meters tall, easily half again larger than themselves, and wielding clubs with such force that any direct hit would splatter a man’s brains onto the battlefield.

The demons’ armor coverage approached fifty percent, and they could easily crush a soldier with a mere charge. This was a formidable psychological assault on ordinary soldiers.

Only the Flying Bear Army’s line remained as solid as a rock. Even with the insertion of Richard’s gunners and crusaders, the other lords’ formations began to wobble.

The allied forces relied entirely on the energy bursts from their knight-ranked fighters, using the sharpness of their energy blades to quickly dispatch ordinary orcs, thereby bolstering the morale of their own troops and stiffening their lines.

But the energy of these knights was finite. Once depleted, an ordinary knight would be no stronger than an ordinary orc warrior. Given the numbers of the enemy, they could overwhelm the superior power of the allies if they were willing to throw enough bodies at them.

Clang! Clang!

Richard’s sword clashed against Hatch’s wolf fang club twice in quick succession. The worsening situation on the battlefield was not lost on Richard; the longer they fought, the greater the disadvantage for the allied forces. The only recourse he could think of was to directly slay the leader of this army of demons.

Unlike previous demon chiefs, Hatch was considerably luckier. Upon realizing he was about to be besieged by three human knights, Hatch had swiftly called for reinforcements.

Richard had no available forces to prevent other nearby orcs from joining the fray, and over a dozen iron-armored orc warriors brutally shoved aside the allied soldiers to rush to Hatch’s aid.

With Ron and another Crusader tied up against a dozen or so iron-armored orc warriors, they could no longer focus on attacking Hatch.

These elite orcs were the equivalent of a dozen quasi-knight peak experts, and even two knight-ranked fighters like Ron and his fellow Crusader would have trouble dispatching so many in a short period of time.

In the end, it became an awkward one-on-one duel between Richard and Hatch.

Clang!

Another hard-hitting exchange proved that Richard and Hatch were evenly matched for the time being. Hatch was a half-step chief-level expert, while Richard possessed the peak knight-ranked combat power, along with extraordinary strength that rivaled some great knights.

It would be difficult to determine a winner between the two in a short period of time, but the situation grew increasingly dire for the allies.

The Crusaders embedded within the allied forces’ ranks quickly depleted their energy reserves, and Richard had already noticed some Crusaders dying after exhausting their energy. They needed to find a way to resolve the situation at hand, or they would be in serious trouble…