Chapter 1282: The Battle Is to the Strong

Fish Ball noticed the shift before anyone else did.

He was betting his life on this fight — and yet, improbably, the enemy was weaker than he had expected. On the Fertile Plains, facing demons, he had barely been able to breathe between shots; his whole body had gone numb, thought narrowed to the next trigger pull. Here, he still had room to observe: to watch his team members, to track the enemy’s rhythm, to anticipate their next move before they made it.

As each charge was repelled, the alliance army slowed. Their intervals lengthened. Their momentum, such as it had ever been, was bleeding out.

The First Army was firing less. To stretch what ammunition remained, Fish Ball had ordered them to hold fire until a charge actually came. The last exchange had been an hour ago.

The math was clear to him. If this deadlock held, the alliance could not win. The First Army held higher ground, protected by fortresses, in the superior firing position. The allied commander standing with folded arms at the rear — unlike traditional warfare, this was not a battle where staying back earned you honor; it simply drained your men’s will while your enemy’s stayed full. Fish Ball had watched the allied front begin to sag. Some soldiers had drifted back a hundred meters without orders. The whole line was on the edge of collapse.

It told him something about how this force had been assembled — quickly, without trust, without the cohesion that came from fighting together and surviving. They were also clumsy with their flintlocks, mimicking the First Army’s technique but badly, wasting the weapons’ potential with every volley. Had they been competent, Fish Ball’s men would not have held this long.

Incredible, really: ten soldiers, five wounded, none dead.

He could not call it luck anymore.

“Anyone have rounds to spare? Mine are gone.”

“Same. One cartridge left.”

“Leader, what do we do?” Hanson came up in a crouch. “No one’s near their machine gun anymore. Do we retreat after dark?”

Fish Ball looked at the sky. Five in the afternoon, and fall’s sun dropped fast — ninety minutes until dark. Night would drop their accuracy, but it would drop the First Army’s too. And if the nobles noticed the dwindling fire and launched a renewed push while his men were moving across open ground with two walking wounded, could he repel it?

Retreat required ammunition he didn’t have.

He could not abandon the wounded. He would not.

He turned the problem over until it settled into something clean and simple.

“Get everyone together. I want to say something.”

A moment later they were all crouched around him, the allied line still sporadic across the field. Fish Ball laid out the situation without softening it, then looked at each face in turn.

“His Majesty always says that attack is the best defense. If we defeat them now, they won’t come back. If we retreat, we hand them another chance. So the choice is this: let them decide our fate, or decide it ourselves. I want to hear what you think.”

Hanson stared at him. “Leader — you mean attack? They have twenty times our numbers.”

“They do. But most of them don’t want to fight anymore. They just haven’t admitted it yet, because at this distance it doesn’t cost them anything to keep lying on the ground. If we destroy their best unit, their front collapses.”

“But the ammunition —”

“According to the Operation Manual,” Fish Ball said, and his voice did not waver, “the First Army does not always rely on weapons.”

Silence settled over the campsite. Then Hanson spoke first.

“I’m with the leader.”

“Same. We stay together.”

“Leave or fight, we go as one.”

“Issue the order, leader!”

Fish Ball nodded once. He would not have said those words four years ago. Something in him had moved, quietly and without ceremony, over the course of those years — and it had brought him to this moment on a hillside with ten soldiers and nearly empty magazines.

A voice reached him then: bright and silver-clear, as though the air itself had sharpened.

“I see you are not a craven now.”

Fish Ball drew a long breath and stood.

“Everyone — install bayonets.”

The bolt rifle had changed in shape from the old flintlock, but the bayonet had always remained, only better fitted now. His men drew their blades and locked them into the grooves, one by one, the clicks small and final.

Fish Ball seated the last clip, raised his arm.

“Follow me.”

He went over the parapet first.

The others streamed behind him, driving toward the nearest enemy position at a dead run.

The allied soldiers had no idea what they were seeing. Many didn’t even rise — they lay there firing mechanically, as though the charge was something their minds refused to process. Fish Ball was already bracing for the bullet that would find him across a hundred meters of open ground. It never came. It was only when his boots were almost on top of them that the alliance soldiers lurched upright, standing frozen with rifles in their hands, faces blank.

Fish Ball drove the bayonet home the way he’d been trained.

“Go!”

His team poured through the gap.

The air filled with shouting. Fish Ball stabbed one man, shot a second, wheeled to take the third — and when he turned again, there was no one left to face. The allied line was running.

They had never imagined the First Army would come out and close the distance. Whatever nerve held them together snapped, and it spread backwards like fire through dry grass. The men at the front fled; the men at the rear dropped their weapons and ran; men fell and rolled down the hillside and bowled over those below them. Panic is its own kind of weapon, and the alliance had armed their enemy with it.

Fish Ball’s team seized the HMG and turned it on the retreating mass. The enemy’s legs churned; the distance opened rapidly. With full magazines, few would have escaped.

He ran until his legs failed him.

On the hill, the last men standing were kneeling with their arms raised. The nobles who had watched from the rear were already gone — not a single one remained in sight.

Fish Ball closed his fist against his thigh, and the sense of something won moved through him before he could name it.

A body hit him from behind and drove him to the ground.

“Leader, we won!”

“Long live His Majesty!”

“Long live the First Army!”

Hands seized him from every side. He was lifted, thrown upward, caught, thrown again. The last of the sunset burned across the hillside and Fish Ball spread his arms in the failing light and shouted with his men — because nothing, in the end, was better than this: everyone still alive.

Chapter 1282 - The Battle Is to the

Strong Translator: Transn Editor: Transn Fish Ball noticed the change in the situation. He was now betting his life on this battle, but, surprisingly, the enemies were weaker than he had expected. When he had been fighting against the demons on the Fertile Plains back then, he could hardly breathe, and all he could do was to fire. His entire body had gone numb. However, at present, he could still keep an eye on his team members and the enemies, and had the ability to think about what step the opponent would possibly take next. As the enemies were repelled several times, their move significantly slowed down. The First Army shot less frequently. To save ammunition, they only fired when the alliance army charged. The last shot was about an hour ago. The consequence would be unbearable for the alliance army if this “deadlock” continued under the current circumstances when there was no reinforcement.The First Army was on the higher land under the protection of the fortresses in a more advantageous firing position. Fish Ball did not understand why the commander of the enemies chose to stand with his arms folded. Unlike a traditional battle where soldiers had to fight at a close range, this battle was apparently more dangerous and intense, for the soldiers could be shot anytime. The commander’s indifference would definitely have a negative impact on the soldiers’ morale. In fact, the alliance army had commenced to retreat.Fish Ballhad witnessed that some soldiers had retreated somewhere around 100 meters farther, and the whole frontier was on the brink of a collapse. This fact indicated that the alliance army had just been built temporarily. The soldiers, in general, lacked trust and cooperation. In addition to that, Fish Ball had also noticed that the enemies were not really good at using flintlocks. They were simply imitating the First Army in a very clumsy way, failing to make the best of use out of the weapons. Otherwise, the First Army would not have been able to hold up for so long. It was incredible that out of the 10 soldiers, only five sustained injuries, and nobody was killed. He could not attribute this outcome totally to luck anymore. “Can someone pass me some bullets? Mine ran out!” “Same here. I only have one cartridge left.” “Leader, what should we do next?” Hanson trotted up to Fish Ball while bending his head. “No enemy is around the machine gun anymore. Shall we retreat tonight?” Fish Ball stared up at the sky. It was now around 5:00 in the afternoon, and the sun sank faster than usual in fall. Within one hour and a half, darkness would creep in. By that time, it would be a lot safer for them to operate, and they could possibly even turn their back against the enemies. However, Fish Ball always hesitated when it came to a retreat. It was true that thefiring accuracy would significantly drop at night, but the First Army would not be able to use the firearms either. More importantly, if the enemies launched an attack again and came after them, could they successfully repel them once more? Hadthey currently had sufficient ammunition, they could have then probably retreated before the enemies got prepared fora second attack. However, if things went on like this, the nobles would soon notice that the First Armyshot less frequently andtherebypredict their next move. Also, two people sustained relatively serious injuries, which further slowed the unitdown. Fish Ball could not abandon his team members. He hesitated for a while and finally made up his mind. Then, he said, “Ask everyone to come here. I want to say something.” A moment later, Hanson brought the other team members. The enemies seemed to have not noticed that the First Army had confined their shooting range. They were still lying on the ground on their stomachs while firing occasionally. Fish Ball was thus more certain about his decision. He briefly talked about the current situation and then surveyed the whole team. “His Majesty often says that an attack is the best defense. If we could defeat these nobles, we don’t need to worry about them coming back anymore. However, if we retreat now, we’d leave them a chance to fight back. So, it’s time to make a choice. We could either let the enemies determine our fate or control our own destiny. I want to hear your opinions on that.” “Leader, do you mean… that we shall attack them instead?” Hanson asked in surprise. “They have far more people than us.” “I thought about that already. They do outnumber us, but most of them don’t want to fight anymore. They just haven’t realized it when firing at a distance. If we could quash their most powerful troop, we could possibly break their spirit!” “But we don’t have much ammunition left…” “According to the Operation Manual, the First Army doesn’t always rely on weapons,” Fish Ball said solemnly. A silence descended on the campsite. Hanson was the first one to speak. “I’m with the leader.” “Me too, leader. I want everyone to stick together.” “Whether we leave or not, we should always act together!” “Issue your command, leader!” The soldiers shouted. Fish Ball nodded solemnly. He would not have made such a decision had this occurred in the past. After serving in the army for four years, he did feel that something had changed. “I see that you aren’t a craven now.” A bright, silvery voice came to him. Fish Ball took a deep breath and proclaimed slowly, “Everyone, install the bayonet!” Although their weapons had upgraded from the traditional flintlock to the bolt rife, and the structure of the gun had changed a lot, the bayonet had always been there, only that it now functioned better. The soldiers thus all drew out their swords and inserted them into the grooves. Fish Ball slid the last clip into the bore, raised his arm and yelled, “Follow me!” He rushed out of the fortresses first. The other team members followed at his heels and streaked toward the enemies closest to them! The enemies had apparently no idea what was going on. Many of them did not even rise but simply shot at the First Army mechanically. Fish Ball was prepared to get shot, but the pain he had been waiting for did not come. It was not until they had covereda distance of 100 meters that the enemies finally stood bolt upright, rooted to the ground, with their rifles in their hands, totally dumbfounded. Fish Ball stabbed the enemies with his bayonet in the way he was trained. “Go!” His team members followed and rushed toward the enemies. The air was filled with the soldiers’ shoutings. Fish Ball stabbed one soldier, shot another dead, and then turned around to stab the third one until he noticed that there was no enemy around him anymore. The alliance army had started to flee. They had probably never anticipated that the First Army would come out of their campsite at this moment and fight at a close range. They could not stand the intense battle anymore. The battle was to the strong. The alliance army was soon flattened after several weak attempts of resistance. The panic was infectious. When the soldiers at the front began to retreat, the ones at the rear all dropped their weapons and fled. Many people fell, rolled down the hill and hit the soldiers running at the front. The First Army thus easily obtained the HMG and started to fire at the running soldiers. The enemies moved their two legs as fast as they could. Had the First Army had enough ammunition, these soldiers would probably have not been able to escape. Fish Ball did not stop until his two legs gave away. The enemies on the hill all knelt down, raised their arms and yielded. The nobles at the rear were the first ones to leave. Fish Ball could not see a single one of them now. He clenched his fists, feeling a sense of achievement steal through him. Before he could savor the victory, his team member rushed toward him andpushed him down to the ground. “Leader, we won!” “Long live His Majesty!” “Long live the First Army!” Multiple hands reached out to him, and Fish Ball was thrown up in the air. Yes, they had won. Nothing was better than seeing everyone alive. Fish Ball spread out his hands in the sunset and also yelled with his soldiers in excitement.