Chương 202: 202：Bait and the Wolf Cavalry Strike

A strong, vice-like hand suddenly clamped down on Kyle's shoulder just as he was about to step forward.

"Hold, Kyle," Darion warned, his voice low and urgent.

"Have you forgotten Lord Soren's ironclad mandate?" Kyle shuddered. The bloodthirsty urge clouding his mind was instantly crushed by the cold weight of reason.

"Remember, we are a surgical strike force, not cannon fodder. Your pike phalanx might be invincible in this gorge, but that only holds true while the enemy is caught off-guard and lacks magical artillery coverage.

"The second their commander rallies his lines—whether he blankets us with area-of-effect venom or orders those colossal beasts into a suicidal charge to shatter your shields—if our formation suffers even a single breach, humanity's close-quarters brawn simply cannot out-grind these beasts." Soren's draconian pre-battle warnings echoed crystal clear in both their minds.

"The absolute core of my tactical doctrine is hit-and-run [Asymmetric Warfare].

"I have zero interest in Pyrrhic victories where we trade blood for blood. Under my banner, preserving the lives of my soldiers takes absolute precedence over exterminating the enemy.

"If any commander gets greedy and bogs their unit down in a protracted fight, I don't care if you win the battle—I will personally sever your head from your shoulders!" Deep within the Misty Swamp, where Orcish Alliance reinforcements could materialize at any second, committing a few hundred men to a meat-grinder would inevitably result in catastrophic casualties, or worse—getting bogged down entirely. Kyle's knuckles turned white around the haft of his pike.

To willingly abandon a total annihilation when holding such an overwhelming advantage... it required an agonizing level of self-restraint!

"Haa..." Kyle exhaled a heavy breath, violently purging the battle-lust from his lungs. His mind regained its icy clarity. He abruptly spun his burly frame around. Facing the ranks of soldiers whose eyes were burning with an insatiable desire to continue the slaughter, he unleashed a thunderous roar:"Entire army, hear my command! Halt the advance! Maintain phalanx formation facing the enemy! Synchronize your steps and slowly retreat!"

"What?! Retreat?!" The soldiers were utterly dumbfounded. Yet, the draconian military discipline beaten into their very marrow took over. Even with ten thousand questions screaming in their minds, their bodies reacted on pure instinct.

"One, two, back!" Thud, thud, thud. A perfectly synchronized rhythm of retreating footsteps echoed through the gorge. Two hundred and fifty-one pikemen, keeping their steel leveled, disengaged from the frontlines without suffering a single scratch. In the rear, the Lizardman Commander had finally managed to halt the rout and rally his lines. He drew his venom-laced saber, fully prepared to lead his personal guard in a suicidal, all-or-nothing counter-charge. Then, his jaw dropped.

He stared in absolute bewilderment as the massive, tightly packed human formation executed a flawless, orderly reverse-march into the dense fog, before swiftly turning and executing a rapid withdrawal.

"They... they ran?" The Commander was so enraged his scales practically inverted. The suffocating humiliation of watching over a hundred of his brothers get skewered for absolutely nothing, only for the enemy to simply walk away, drove him mad!

"Those cowardly, scaleless dry-land runts! They win and they still run?! Entire battalion, about-face! After them! I'm going to drag them back and string them up as jerky!" Absolute, blinding fury entirely consumed the Commander's rationale. The surviving seven hundred Lizardman soldiers were similarly gripped by a hysterical cocktail of surviving a disaster and raw, vengeful rage. Freed from the suffocating pressure of that terrifying steel wall, they instantly devolved into an uncontrollable, chaotic mob.

Shrieking wildly, they poured out of the gorge, blindly following the muddy footprints of the retreating Greywater Village troops directly into a relatively wide, open expanse of marshland. And this was the ultimate, most vicious link in Soren's interlocking tactical chain. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The relentless winter rain lashed against the shallow, flooded meadows of the clearing.

The pursuing Lizardman detachment hadn't even covered a few miles out of the gorge before their momentum completely unspooled. Some sprinted too far ahead, while others tripped and floundered in the deep mud pits. Their formation was dragged out into a loose, fragmented ribbon, entirely stripped of any infantry cohesion. Suddenly, a distinct, terrifying low growl rode the freezing wind.

"Awooo!" It wasn't the blast of a human war horn. It was the guttural, collective howling of apex predators that had just caught the scent of fresh blood! Atop the elevated ridges flanking the foggy marsh, pairs of eyes, glowing with a sickly, spectral green luminescence, abruptly ignited behind the towering brush. Buck, Commander of the Second-Line Wolf Cavalry Battalion, sat astride a massive Alpha Direwolf.

This man—who had borne the agonizing weight of false accusations before finally reclaiming his dignity as a general under Soren's banner—now radiated an overwhelming, deterrent aura. He gazed down at the Lizardmen, whose blind pursuit had left them scattered and vulnerable. The Lord isn't just a tactical grandmaster. He calculated the enemy's psychology down to their very marrow, Buck thought in absolute awe. Buck saw the reality clearly.

If these seven hundred Lizardmen had maintained a tight defensive formation and advanced methodically, even his hundred-strong cavalry unit wouldn't have been able to make a dent. But by utilizing that infuriating, hit-and-run phalanx tactic, Kyle and Darion had flawlessly baited the prey out of the gorge, stretching them into a disorganized, routing rabble! Buck slowly lowered his rain-slicked visor.

Reaching behind his back, he unhooked a three-shot repeating hand crossbow customized exclusively for cavalry combat. Behind him, ninety-two elite Wolf Cavalrymen—clad in black iron half-plate and leveling three-meter riding lances—tightened their grips on their Direwolves' reins. These ninety-three Swamp Direwolves didn't just boast terrifying explosive acceleration; they traversed the treacherous swamp sludge as if sprinting across paved stone.

"They finally lured these aquatic freaks out into the open..." Buck hoisted his heavy cavalry broadsword high into the air, before violently slashing it forward.

"Brothers! Show these cold-blooded reptiles the true meaning of high-speed mobility! Loose bolts! CHARGE!" Awooo! Ninety-three ferocious Swamp Direwolves unleashed a deafening, blood-curdling howl. Moving with terrifying speed, they surged down the elevated slopes on both flanks like a collapsing avalanche! The Lizardmen, still sprinting madly through the muddy water, abruptly slid to a halt, severely spooked by the sudden commotion.

When they snapped their heads around and clearly saw the legendary, terrifying Orcish Direwolves—yet ridden by fully armored human cavalry—the sheer, incomprehensible mental shock completely obliterated their psychological defenses.

"Ambush! They didn't just have a phalanx! They have cavalry?!"

"Impossible! Human warhorses would sink straight to the bottom of the swamp!" Just as the Wolf Cavalry closed the gap to less than thirty meters—"Raise crossbows! FIRE!" Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Ninety-three repeating hand crossbows unleashed a devastating, wide-area blanket of suppressive fire at point-blank range! Over two hundred and seventy compact, armor-piercing bolts delivered lethal kinetic force, effortlessly puncturing the Lizardmen's unarmored flanks, eyes, and throats!

Entire swathes of the enemy vanguard collapsed, screaming helplessly without the ability to mount a single parry. An instant later, before the panicking Lizardmen could even hurl their javelins, the Wolf Cavalry crashed into their ranks with the momentum of a hurricane! Squelch! CRACK! Driven by the violent impact of the Direwolves and the sheer kinetic inertia of their high-speed charge, ninety-three cavalry lances flawlessly impaled the enemies' chests.

Simultaneously, the Direwolves' terrifying jaws snapped shut, violently tearing out the throats of their prey. Buck spearheaded the charge. His heavy lance carved a deadly, sweeping arc through the air.

"DIE!" The arrogant Lizardman Commander didn't even have time to crack his barbed whip. Carrying absolute, overwhelming momentum, Buck brought his heavy weapon crashing down. The strike cleaved through the Commander and his Swamp Basilisk, sending both crashing lifelessly into the muck. A flawless, one-hit kill!

"Scatter! Flank and carve them up! Do not let them form ranks!" Buck had thoroughly mastered the absolute core doctrine of modern cavalry division tactics. Upon landing their strike, the Wolf Cavalry refused to get bogged down in melee combat. Instead, they rode their charging momentum to completely penetrate the Lizardman formation. Sweeping outward, they seamlessly split into two flanking columns, rapidly circling back from the perimeter and leveling their reloaded hand crossbows.

Having their morale utterly shattered by the infantry phalanx, their formation stretched into a disorganized mess, and finally subjected to a rapid, lethal carving by highly mobile cavalry... The synergistic combination of these three phases resulted in an apocalyptic, absolutely overwhelming display of combat superiority! A suffocating sense of powerlessness completely paralyzed the few hundred surviving Lizardmen. They couldn't fight this. This was a completely different dimension of warfare!

After suffering just three relentless, sweeping passes of cavalry charges and suppressive arrow fire, the Lizardman Vice-Commander suffered a total psychological collapse. Shrieking in terror, he threw down his weapon and bolted frantically toward the dense brush in the opposite direction, desperate to save his own life. That single act of cowardice instantly triggered a catastrophic chain reaction. The remaining three hundred Lizardmen entirely lost their will to resist.

Their ranks completely disintegrated as they scattered in blind panic, diving desperately back into the deepest recesses of the mist. In a terrifyingly short amount of time, the battle was officially over. Amidst the twitching corpses of the enemy, the Wolf Cavalry displayed a level of military discipline that bordered on the inconceivable. Buck hauled back on the reins of his Direwolf, whose jaws were still dripping with fresh blood. He smoothly retracted his lance.

Sweeping his gaze across the battlefield, he didn't even spare a single glance at the logistical supplies strapped to the dead Swamp Basilisks.

"Leave no survivors. Do not bother sweeping the battlefield, and ignore the supplies.

"Maintain formation and absolute vigilance! Rally and prepare to extract!" Buck commanded. From a secure, elevated vantage point in the distance, the previously extracted Kyle and Darion watched the massacre unfold. The two commanders exchanged a glance and simultaneously let out a long, heavy exhale of relief. Infantry-cavalry synergy. A perfectly executed pocket formation. Luring the enemy deep into a kill zone... This was an apex tactical doctrine that completely transcended the era's understanding of warfare.