When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Chapter 1371: Chapter 1288: Battle of the Fat Toad (Conclusion)

Before the three armies could finish arguing it out, the Seventh Angel Envoy Corps had already caught up—only to be stuck at the very back!

"Fuck Miseria’s petrifying gaze!" Samuji almost crushed the telescope in his hand. "What the hell is Cataloni doing?"

A Holy Alliance writer once wrote that a traffic jam is one man’s private chaos of war.

Here in this small mountain foot, it was tens of thousands of private chaos of war piled together.

Horses trampling, bodies shoving, elbows flying; Knight swords and long halberds grinding against each other as they tried to move, even sparking off small-scale brawls.

They were wedged onto this tiny slope, like four blobs of Slime slamming into each other in a mud pit, struggling and tearing, bursting their guts all over the place.

"Send a Messenger over..."

"Wait." Just then, the adjutant suddenly pointed to the other side. "My lord! Look over there!"

Samuji followed his finger and saw a narrow path skirting the hillside.

Among the masking branches and lumps of snow, a string of crimson shadows appeared.

They moved fast as hell, shoulders smashing through pines and shrubs, setting crows flapping and snow cascading down.

Their target was perfectly clear—they were arrowing straight toward Tindalos Village.

The leading vampire seemed to glide without touching the ground, and Samuji immediately recognized who that was.

"Cataloni..." Samuji’s expression eased a little. "He’s got at least a bit of brains."

The ones rushing in from the side of the slope were obviously Cataloni and the two battalions under his command—Angel Envoy battalions.

Same type as Samuji’s: elite formations made entirely of vampires from the Manra clan.

The main vampire reinforcements were bogged down, and the main human force was bogged down too.

Because of the difference in numbers and the Vampire Army’s rotation and redeployment, they could barely scrape together any troops on the right flank.

In a deadlock like Tindalos Village, whoever gets even a little bit of reinforcement first will hammer the other side’s morale.

Grab this window, shove these two reserve formations down into the fight, and it’ll buy precious time for those two big turds in the rear.

However noisy it was now, Cataloni had definitely arranged everything before charging up.

Every sin Samuji favored, Cataloni lacked; every virtue he despised, Cataloni had in full.

But when it came to this vampire Angel Envoy’s ability, Samuji didn’t doubt him for a second.

If Cataloni hadn’t prepared properly, he’d never be charging in that blatantly.

"Tell the Godspawn to hold out. Our reinforcements are almost here." Samuji turned, riding a surge of confidence, and called out to the soldiers in the village.

Hearing that, the vampires all visibly perked up.

Whether the news was true or not, under conditions this brutal, they had no choice but to believe it.

In a sense, Samuji’s words were a shot of adrenaline; they didn’t have any morale-boosting Divine Art.

The side effect of that adrenaline being—if the promised reinforcements were late, the vampires defending the village would see their morale collapse in an instant.

Unless Cataloni pulled some new trick, Samuji was sure he’d make it in time.

Samuji rode back and forth a few times to make sure every vampire soldier heard him, then swung down from his horse.

But the instant his boots touched the ground, he felt a faint vibration, barely noticeable.

What the hell is that?

He didn’t have time to figure it out in that one second—but in the very next second, he understood.

"Wnnng——"

"Boom!"

Snow cascaded off the slopes and rooftops. The shell blasts from overhead hit like someone smashing the pause button.

The vampires in the village all raised their heads in unison, looking around for the gun positions.

"Look!" A sharp-eyed vampire pointed at the ridge on the left. "Over there!"

The vampires all twisted around to look in that direction.

On the mountainside beside the village, buried under snow and trees, there was actually a small platform!

On that platform, they’d set up six six‑pounder guns and more than a dozen grenade launchers.

Samuji’s pupils shrank. He racked his memory for a good while and couldn’t recall there ever being a platform there.

It was hidden under the snow—how did the Holy Alliance troops find the spot, how did they push the guns up there?

The six clockwork guns and twelve grenade tubes started firing in sequence, and the howling shells slammed down, blasting apart long columns of crimson troops.

White flashes and blood-red splashes alternated; black blood and viscera spattered everywhere.

They weren’t shelling the village—they were shelling the reinforcements.

"It’s human artillery!" some vampire soldier finally realized and shrieked.

"No shit." Samuji, furious, kicked that soldier flying, but could only helplessly glare up at that platform.

The ground there wasn’t even high; under normal circumstances nobody would ever notice it, but right now it was the perfect sniping perch against their reinforcements.

The gun position wasn’t big, but those clockwork cannons were running on the entire army’s stock of moon-mercury, so the rate of fire wasn’t slow at all.

Every shell hammered brutal casualties into the battalions under Cataloni’s command.

Some of the Imperial Knights in the following waves of reinforcements finally tried to charge up the slope to help.

But another shell screamed down and landed right in the middle of the Knights’ formation, tossing several Knights and their horses into the air.

Then came another flicker of white electric plasma, forcing them to slow their advance.

Under bombardment that dense, even the Holy Father would close his eyes—let alone vampires.

They were elite, sure, but they fought to climb the ladder; how many of them were really here to bleed for the Blood Kingdom?

Even if there were some, they’d already been blown apart in the charge. The ones left, no matter what Cataloni yelled at them, kept sneaking forward behind rocks and bushes, shifty as hell.

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