[Divine March Tactics: A+]
Blitzkrieg, flanking maneuvers, rapid penetration, encirclement, annihilation, convergence, and overwhelming pushes—a single man could command a war of extermination alone.
"The words of a ruler are not idle; the speed of an army is paramount."
Like deploying troops across mountains and rivers, seizing the critical terrain ensures control over the battlefield's flow. Only by grasping the most vital link can one remain unshaken amidst chaos.
"The Lord of Wu'an never fought a battle he could not win."
"Thus, if you march forward with armor rolled up, halting neither day nor night, covering double the normal distance at a forced march, racing a hundred li to seize advantage—your three generals will be captured."
Sakatsuki rode on horseback, murmuring these words thoughtfully.
"Legate, is that a saying from the eastern lands?" Rosario asked.
"Ah, these are words from The Art of War." Once he began leading troops, Sakatsuki's Spirit Origin influenced him unconsciously, making him spout phrases even he didn't realize he knew. "I often carried Bo Ling's bamboo scrolls with me during campaigns. This passage means: If you abandon heavy gear and rush forward day and night without rest, doubling your pace to race a hundred li for advantage—your entire command will be captured."
"Thus, exhaustion must be avoided in war. Never push an army too hard."
"Then what should we do, Legate?"
"Legate... Hmph." Sakatsuki smirked. "Send orders. Have all cohort commanders and centurions report to me."
Before long, a chorus of acknowledgments rang out as officers of all ranks galloped over, lining up before Sakatsuki.
"Gentlemen, we now begin the battle plan. Pay close attention."
The white-haired commander maintained a steady pace as he fluidly laid out his strategy. The officers behind him cycled through confusion, shock, admiration, and finally saluted before dispersing, their shouts echoing through the ranks.
When the main road ended, giving way to a forest path, the thousand-strong force split apart. The officers led their assigned units, exchanged knowing smiles, and vanished into the wilderness without a sound.
By the time the army had dispersed, only a few dozen men remained with Sakatsuki.
"Legate! Thirty-three former Praetorians, now one centurion and thirty-two cavalrymen, pledge their loyalty to you!" Rosario, serving as both scout and centurion, saluted with fanatical fervor.
"Good. All strapping lads in their prime." Sakatsuki nodded approvingly, his gaze sweeping over these men who had fought under him and sworn absolute devotion. "Then I need not waste words—forward, my brothers! We shall sound the horn of annihilation!"
A unified cry rose as they spurred their horses—only to gasp in amazement as their steeds raced forward as if carried by the wind, charging toward the enemy stronghold.
Soon, the village Rosario had scouted came into view.
No—it could no longer be called a village.
Sakatsuki raised a hand, and the light cavalry stopped instantly, concealing themselves in the trees while staring grimly at what had now become a military camp.
The enemy commander's shouts were audible even from this distance. Soldiers bustled about, raising tents, adjusting palisades and trenches, and transporting supplies to secure locations.
"As expected. Rosario's luck was impeccable. Had we delayed any longer, we'd face a grueling siege." The white-haired general scanned the camp's key structures, his expression relaxed.
Beyond his concerns about Camp One—Gorin's target—Sakatsuki had another reason for choosing this site: Rosario had initially spotted a small village, not a military camp.
The tight patrols suggested the enemy intended to fortify, not just pass through. So why had Rosario seen only a village?
The answer was obvious—the enemy had just arrived and hadn't yet built their defenses.
And if they hadn't started, Sakatsuki would deny them the chance entirely. An unformed tumor was far easier to excise than a festering wound.
As for the seemingly easy-to-capture Camp One—though Sakatsuki wielded a Chinese Spirit Origin, he couldn't help but mutter a prayer:
His army had no room for discord. As for the half of the legion that fool Gorin had taken...
Apologies, but this is a necessary sacrifice.
With this Servant's abilities, manpower was never an issue. Trading two thousand soldiers to eliminate a treacherous former commander?
A bargain, in Sakatsuki's eyes.
"Legate, what's our next move? Time favors the enemy."
At Rosario's reminder, Sakatsuki refocused. "Any signals?"
"Yes. Three bird calls from the hillside."
To Sakatsuki, the village's terrain was diabolically clever—a stretch of open land surrounded by sheer cliffs, with only one path in and out, winding through dense woods.
A natural fortress, easily defended if garrisoned properly.
Had Rosario not spotted the enemy's supply train, no one would have guessed the United Roman Empire had planted a hidden dagger here.
If Sakatsuki were defending, he'd barricade the sole entrance, turning this place into another Thermopylae.
The enemy commander clearly thought the same. Though most troops were busy constructing the camp, hundreds patrolled the path, building defenses and watching for intruders.
Sakatsuki and his men lurked mere dozens of meters away, concealed by the trees. One step into the open, and they'd be spotted instantly.
Their task? Lure the enemy out.
*"Apply fire oil. Mount up. Charge with me!"
With that order, Sakatsuki drew his bronze sword and burst from the forest. His men followed without hesitation, howling as they charged.
The patrols reacted instantly, splitting their forces to intercept. Yet under the effects of [Divine March Tactics], Sakatsuki's unit moved too fast—the enemy only caught a mouthful of dust as they streaked past.
A kilometer vanished in an instant.
The white-haired general, a master of blitzkrieg, calmly raised his hand.
A surge of bloody aura erupted behind him.
Crimson energy coalesced into a three-meter-tall battle axe, its surface etched with intricate runes that glowed ominously.
Under the despairing gazes of the enemy, the young man at the forefront clenched his fist.
The air shattered. The earth wailed.
Amid flying debris, the bloody axe slammed into the camp's gates—as if hacking directly into the hearts of every foe.
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