Within the narrow battle formation, every time a long spear thrusts out, one person falls, and every gunshot causes a few mercenaries to scream while clutching their arms.
But the Holy Gunmen, after all, are few in number. Despite their relentless pressure on the mercenaries, they still haven't broken their defense.
"Bang!" A stray bullet pierced through the neck of Dane's warhorse.
The Duke atop let out a miserable howl, then fell from the saddle as if struck by invisible giant fists.
Visibly, bright red blood had already covered his luxurious woolen trousers.
Clutching his right leg, the Duke knew he couldn't ride anymore. He gritted his teeth, leaned on the attendant's arm, and shouted toward the knights.
Catch the formatted version at *.
Cold sweat poured down the Duke's forehead, and with every step, he felt a knife carving into his thigh.
"The Duke is there! Kill!"
But they hadn't gone far when hundreds of long spears came charging from nearby, clearly indicating that the Salvation Army had spotted the Duke.
In the midst of gunfire, the Duke, terrified, dropped to the ground while the mercenaries began a face-off with the old barracks' long spear soldiers.
The jostling crowd kept trampling, and the Duke, crawling on the ground, was disoriented after being stepped on and kicked by many feet.
Kneeling on the ground, he crawled awkwardly beneath people's hips and knees.
Dane disregarded everything, crawling forward, his blood trickling from his thigh to his knees, leaving traces of his kneeling path.
His face was bruised and swollen, his ankle twisted from being trampled; with his rear in the air, Dane crawled toward the last refuge.
No one could have imagined that this dirty beggar crawling on the ground, covered in filth and mud, was actually Duke Dane.
Seeing the increasingly clear shoes of the mercenaries, Dane gritted his teeth.
Just one more step, one more step, and he could enter the protection of the mercenaries' spear formation, just one more step.
A huge force came from the waist, suddenly making Dane's world spin.
After crashing heavily to the ground, he grimaced and saw it was an old priest, bare-chested.
He wore a broken cross around his neck, his body covered with various wounds.
"Captured you!" Kosse showed Dane a creepy smile.
"Let me go." Humiliated and angry, Dane looked at the open space before the castle, barely five yards away, and struggled wildly, "Damn commoner, let me go."
Clearly, this priest in his forties was severely injured, yet young and strong Dane was unable to break free from his hold.
Dane punched Kosse's face madly, but the usually weak Old Kosse was now as firm as a rock, holding tightly to Dane's waist.
Seeing that he couldn't pry Kosse's hands apart, Dane began to plead, "What do you want? What on earth do you want? I'll give you anything, do you want money? I'll give you money."
"Money?" Kosse gritted his teeth and smiled, "What do I need money for?"
"Then I can grant you a title, do you fancy women? I have all kinds of beauties..." Dane spoke in an almost servile tone.
"Hahaha, hahahaha," coughing, Kosse laughed aloud.
"What do you think we are? What do you take us for?!" tightening his grip on the Duke's waist, for the first time since learning of his daughter's death, Kosse had tears in his eyes, "We're not pigs, not sheep, we have emotions too! We are human!"
Kosse's eyes reddened, but through the tears, those muddled eyes glared at Dane.
"I'm just a pig killer, I've never read scripture or known any great principles, but I know that when piglets are taken, the old sow fights desperately!"
The nearby warhorse's hoof stamped through Kosse's thigh, yet his expression remained unchanged.
This middle-aged man, always sitting on the fence, held tightly to the Duke's waist, unwavering: "I've struggled hard to reach here, faced how many sufferings, endured how many hardships?"
A soldier stabbed Kosse's thigh with a short sword, yet he seemed not to feel pain and shouted at Dane, "What do you think I want? Huh? What do you think I want?"
"I don't want money! No titles! I don't want women!"
"I want to vent, I want Lena and Anna to know, Papa hasn't forgotten, I will surely, surely, surely avenge you!"
He inhaled deeply, drawing blood, snot, and tears into his stomach, his mouth trembling as he tried to swallow all the sobs and fears.
"Duke, when a sow bites, it really hurts!"
The distinctive explosive roar of gunfire rang out, a knight first fell from his horse.
Dane looked up in despair. Coming from the left side of the road, the Salvation Banner representing Horn was already raised high, and from the right side, the strong white light enveloped the Holy Grail Battle Banner of Saint Jeanne as it surged with the tide of people.
The mercenaries' semicircular spear formation five yards away, clearly so close, yet seemingly an insurmountable gap.
As the sound of the clockwork guns rang out, more mercenaries and knights fell, then, without knowing who initiated it, all the knights scattered and fled down the small lanes.
And the castle's guards and nobles, seeing the situation turning, shockingly raised the drawbridge.
"Raise the drawbridge, close the gates!"
Amid the creaking of gears, chains pulled the drawbridge slowly upward; the mercenaries waiting to retreat onto the drawbridge found themselves suspended in air as they stepped back.