Chapter 50: The Shield of the King

Late at night.

The Second Birmingham Infantry Battalion occupied Position 144, capturing twenty-six divisional infantry-support howitzers and a vast amount of artillery shells. Desperate to retake this crucial firepower, the Prussian infantry division launched a fierce, at-all-costs counterattack.

Jiang He lay prone on the parapet, firing continuously. Aiming grew increasingly difficult amidst the night, but the bombardment from the artillery cluster had ignited scattered debris, casting a faint, flickering glow across his field of vision.

Three hundred meters away, a captain was advancing in a crouched posture, just turning his head to urge his men onward, when a bullet blew through his skull.

Jiang He worked the bolt to chamber another round. Through continuous target practice under live-fire conditions, he had mastered accuracy within a range of three hundred and fifty meters. The sniper rifle looted from Kahn vastly outperformed the Lee-Enfield in performance, though every use drained a fraction of his stamina.

[Name: Crimson Baptism]
[Type: Firearms]
[Quality: Rare]
[Effect ①: Increases shooting armor-piercing capability by 28%]
[Effect ②: Increases bullet flight speed by 20%]
[Remarks: Overall length 1,220 mm, weight 4.2 kg, range 2,000 meters, fixed internal magazine of 10 rounds, fixed 5x riflescope. This is a sniper rifle with superior baseline performance, once belonging to an old aristocrat who fancied himself a paragon of honor.]

Another bullet flew from the muzzle, tearing apart the torso of the targeted Prussian soldier, leaving no intact remains.

Jiang He kept firing, repeating the cycle of shooting, bolting, and reloading. The infamous suicide charges of the First World War made his eyes ache with dry exhaustion.

"Open fire!"

Tommy's roar echoed through the trench.

The artillery regiment's firepower spewed forth in a direct barrage, blanketing the ground ahead. Sand and dust flew into the air, and soldiers were blown into midair by the blasts. Unfortunately, the Second Birmingham Infantry Battalion consisted entirely of convicts, with very few trained artillery specialists among them, rendering it impossible to achieve annihilation-level effectiveness.

After two rounds, the enemy seemed to abandon the idea of reclaiming their weapons and initiated a concentrated bombardment.

The flames of war engulfed the entire trench. Jiang He retreated into a makeshift fortification, clutching the sniper rifle Crimson Baptism, just as a massive shell landed right where he had been, blowing King Charles XII beyond recognition.

The firestorm's coverage was devastatingly thorough; nearly all of the captured howitzers were destroyed.

Tommy took shelter in the bunker with an exhausted expression. "Without professional artillerists, we haven't the foggiest notion how to calibrate the positions. Now we can only rely on those few Maxim heavy machine guns."

Jiang He asked, "How many men are left?"

Tommy closed his eyes and replied, "Two hundred and some odd. Fleitz is gone—the Irishman who always followed me. Barney the Hunter didn't survive the bombardment; he lost his right arm and right leg, and just shot himself. The deputy company commander died during the assault on Position 144. Now, the old company is left with just you, me, my brother Arthur, and the dozen or so men who stayed behind at the rear."

At that moment, Arthur trotted in with his head down, cradling four bottles of whiskey. Exquisitely packaged and glowing with a translucent amber hue, they clearly were not cheap.

"Look what I found—that aristocrat's private stash."

Jiang He took a bottle, bit off the cap, and took a deep swallow. The fiery burn stung his taste buds, but there was no other water source left in the trench.

"If the shells can't be fired, they're all mine then."

Tommy gave a bitter smile. "Otherwise, what else are we supposed to keep them for? I've figured it out. In this godforsaken war, privates like us are never the winners. It doesn't matter how many you kill, but you have to keep going. Hope is like blood; as long as it's still flowing through your veins, you're still alive."

Jiang He finished the last drop of the whiskey and tossed the bottle aside. This blue-eyed Briton possessed a somewhat literary temperament. According to the intelligence provided by the rabble, he was a Wildebeest Knight, skilled at turning perilous situations around; he had started out as a young officer eager to earn military glory, but had now transformed into an anti-war cynic.

The Prussian artillery fire lasted for a full quarter of an hour. The moment it ceased, their own frontline erupted with an even more violent baptism of fire. In the span of seven days, they burned through the British Empire's total ammunition production of eleven months—the newly appointed Haig could only be described as insane.

Braving the turbulent and violent shockwaves, Jiang He made his way into the half-collapsed bunker. Over three hundred artillery shells of various calibers were stored here.

He dragged the captive Kahn out of his inventory pouch, stuffed all the artillery shells inside to detonate them, and finally tossed in the Rare-grade item: Chaotic Explosion Engineering Device, beginning the synthesis of chaotic bombs.

Black gemstones dropped into his palm one by one, totaling 245 pieces. According to the item notes, once the total number of manufactured items reached one thousand, the Chaotic Explosion Engineering Device would upgrade in quality.

Having regained consciousness long ago, Kahn's chest heaved as he took rapid, deep breaths. The pitch-black, confined environment had pushed his psychological pressure to the absolute limit.

"What on earth do you want by keeping me alive?!"

Jiang He said nothing and shoved him back into the inventory; the captive's psyche had not yet reached the brink of total collapse.

...

The next morning.

At exactly 7:30, a terrifying silence suddenly descended upon the entire battlefield. The abrupt stillness filled soldiers on both sides with oppressive dread, but within mere seconds, the whistles and shouts of platoon sergeants erupted across the British trenches, officially kicking off the Battle of the Somme.

Simultaneously, the defensive battle at Position 144 flared up anew, with unprecedented intensity.

"What are they doing?!"

Tommy looked back toward the British trenches behind them. Countless soldiers were lined up in long ranks, dressing right and left as if waiting to attend a military parade. Led by their officers, they maintained a steady, measured stride in meticulously rehearsed formations as they advanced toward the Prussian positions.

Jiang He was equally filled with bewilderment. He knew historical records contained descriptions of this, but witnessing it with his own eyes still felt utterly absurd. Position 144 was merely an insignificant fraction of the Somme battlefield and could do nothing to sway the final outcome.

As the infantry columns drew closer, the Prussian troops along the extended defensive line manned their Maxim heavy machine guns. A torrent of bullets swept across the earth, tearing through flesh and staining the soil a deep crimson. The artillery on both sides opened fire once more, though this time it felt more like a symphony of death.

At least twenty over-strength county battalions were shattered beyond operational capability. Desperate to survive under the hail of lead, many soldiers hid behind the corpses of their comrades, pressing flat against the ground to evade the dense fire of the machine guns. Amidst the storm of firepower, soldiers collapsed in every conceivable posture when hit. Faced with such ferocious firepower and catastrophic casualties, the offensive was on the verge of collapse.

A long and brutal morning passed.

Jiang He had become entirely numb to the screams. It wasn't until the blazing sun hung high at noon that the infantry finally advanced to the front of the first defense line. Before many other positions, the assaulting echelons simply shattered and dissolved.

Positions 120 through 170 belonged to the western sector. A forty-five-year-old army commander led three cavalry divisions, capitalizing on the infantry's breakthrough to successfully breach the enemy trenches and rip open a massive gap, at the cost of rendering the majority of tens of thousands of cavalrymen casualties.

Following forces accelerated through the battlefield. While the Western Front achieved initial results, other sectors suffered countless casualties.

A chaotic, grueling battle ensued.

...

Behind the Anglo-French lines lay the industrial stronghold of Amiens.

Inside a bunker, a major general introduced a royal envoy from the homeland to the Commander-in-Chief, Haig.

"Sir, this is the Black Knight, one of the three Guardian Earls of the King's Shield."

The newcomer was short in stature, completely shrouded beneath a cloak, with bandages wrapped tightly around her face. Only a pair of striking eyes were exposed, shaped like five-petaled flowers, their edges radiating a sharpness akin to honed blades.

The Black Knight spoke of her own accord, her voice crisp: "Soul Armament: Black Datura."

Commander-in-Chief Haig had heard of her reputation—one of the few powerful knights in history to forge her alchemy matrix using a plant. The Black Datura was skilled in paralysis and inducing hallucinations; even the king was reluctant to grant her a close-range audience. Rumor had it that mere eye contact could cause one to fall under the Black Knight's ocular arts.

"Pardon me for not meeting you at the perimeter." Haig took a sip of tea. "I presume His Majesty and the Prime Minister have urgent matters."

The Black Knight handed over a map and said, "The Somme region, the major city of Lihons, located seven kilometers behind the Prussian Western Front. The order from above is that it must be captured, regardless of the heavy cost. The Sword of the Reversed Tree attempts to resurrect the ancient Emperor Otto; his slumbering Heavenly Palace is located precisely in the Lihons area."

Haig stated calmly, "Emperor Otto was indeed one of the most brilliant knights of antiquity, but I do not believe he can accomplish the miracle of returning from the dead. Even if he is resurrected, he will by no means be his former self."

"Indeed, which is why the monster they intend to resurrect is precisely what they seek." The Black Knight was unwilling to elaborate further and continued, "Regarding this operation, His Majesty and France have reached a tacit understanding. Both sides will jointly open their inner vaults, using transcendent resources to entice knights from all over to participate in urban combat. The Prussians will likely spare nothing either."

Haig fell silent. Emperor Otto had been an Aphid Knight during his lifetime—a terrifying transcendent entity. While his combat prowess was not exceptionally high, he possessed a staggering strategic capability.

Aphids in nature were the fastest-reproducing insects; female aphids could reproduce the moment they were born. Historically, an army of aphids at its peak had once destroyed entire cities.

Meanwhile, the Battle of Verdun was still ongoing, with both the attacking and defending forces locked in a stalemate. Consequently, Otto's resurrection and control carried immense weight.

After a moment of reflection, Haig realized this was not something he could refuse, unless he immediately crushed the opposing Prussian army.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Transport supplies, notify knights in the outside world, and endorse the operation."