The retreating Alans stopped in front of the woods at the rear of the battlefield, as they had reached what they thought was safe.

They stopped, then rolled over and dismounted, and even fell from their horses, not knowing whether they were grieved or because they were really exhausted.

"Our King is dead!"

"Diego is dead!"

The Alans gathered together and let out a wail like a wild beast, like a pack of wolves that had lost their leader, and the sound of crying resounded all around, although it did not have the momentum of the earth-shattering ghosts and gods, it was deafening to stand up.

The Alans, holding their heads and crying, were completely unaware of the damage their defeat had caused to the whole situation, and they only thought that their king was dead.

The weeping Alans did not notice that a troop of horsemen was approaching them not far away, until they were close enough to hear the sound of their horses' hooves.

The Alans looked up and saw them as the banner-bearers holding the Gothic banner.

"Goths, what are they doing here?"

The curious Alans stood up one after another, their eyes wide and swollen, and without saying a word as they watched the cavalry draw nearer and closer, and looked at them curiously.

The group of Gothic cavalry stopped in front of them, and among them was a young officer in heavy chain mail and armor, carrying a wolf's skin, riding out and coming to the Alans.

"I'm the Gothic Prince Torrismon!" The officer's voice was like a bell, and the Alans who were present stood like a log without saying a word.

On the battlefield, Luga's huge army finally stopped, because they were caught in a two-front battle, the front army was encircling and suppressing the Hun cavalry trying to escape, and the rear was attacked by the Hun cavalry and suffered heavy losses.

The roars of the soldiers were incessant, and the Huns' desire to survive finally fell into dust and turned into a pool of dead ashes.

One by one, the recalcitrant Hun cavalry fell to the stabbing of their spears, and the heavy smell of blood ran down his nose and made Luga's stomach turn upside down.

"Whew-"

Malenius finally couldn't bear it anymore in the shaking carriage, only to see him bend down, covering his stomach with one hand and his mouth with the other, and filth gushing out from his fingers.

"Malenius, old man, you have to hold on!" Luga lectured from the sidelines: "Being so embarrassed on the battlefield is not like a qualified commander. ”

"I'm sorry, Caesar, I'm sorry!" Malenius apologized incessantly and wiped his filthy face with the handkerchief he had brought with him.

Luga resisted the urge to vomit and kept pounding his chest, trying to make the smell of vomit and blood in the smell less affected him.

The soldiers vomited even more, looking at the soldiers in front of them, who had already become bloody, everyone's faces showed a look of pain, after all, these poor guys were stabbed into flesh raw.

"Change formation! Change formations! ”

The Overseers shouted, picking up their horns and blowing them to the sky, beckoning to the soldiers present, who could only wipe their mouths clean and form a new array to meet the enemy under the Overseer's orders.

Attila's archers finally stopped firing, as they had to move with the line and save enough arrows to prepare for the next battle to consume the Romans in front of them.

"Caesar, the Visgoths are still fighting, shall we rescue Theodoric?"

Luga stood on the chariot and looked out into the distance at the place where Theodoric was fighting, and the two sides were fighting inseparably, and for a moment the Goths relied on the tactics they had learned from fighting the Romans for many years to block the barbarian attack and keep them out of their shields.

"No, my friend, Theodoric seems fine, he doesn't need our help, at least for now!"

After speaking, Luga turned around and looked at the high ground that was already full of people, and the cavalry of the Hun general Goldin had already bypassed the high ground and hid behind the infantry.

"Turn the shot, now we have a new target!" Luga turned around, brandished his sword in front of him, and shouted loudly: "Re-lock the target, now, high ground, attack!" ”

"Turn around! Turn the course! ”

Under the hoarse shouts of the front-line officers, the engineers were only seen turning the trebuchets around the line and pointing straight to the high ground in front of them.

"Click..."

There was a deafening firing sound, and dozens of trebuchets roared together, only to see dozens of burning wooden barrels cutting a pitch-black arc in mid-air, and finally landing on the high ground that was already full of corpses.

"Boom, boom..."

The barrel fell to the ground and exploded, and the flames contained in it were like a flaming lotus flower blooming from hell, and they exploded one after another in the formation of Hun mercenaries in the highlands.

The steppe tribes that had been fighting north of the Rhine for many years had never seen such a sudden burst of flames.

"Hell, the Romans have the power of the god of fire!"

When one person shouted, the others responded, which became the fear of the other guys who didn't know the truth, so when a few explosions sounded, there was already chaos in the rear.

The flaming creatures screamed and ran aimlessly through the crowd, and the others saw him as if they were seeing a monster, let alone rushing to the rescue.

The most unfortunate were the soldiers at the front, who were still gritting their teeth and holding on to resist the Romans' unknown number of attacks, but the sound of chaos came from behind, causing their originally neat military formation to appear chaotic in an instant.

At this critical moment, a large number of cavalry appeared in the rear of Aetius' army. Whistling under the banner of the Goths and the Alans, they accelerated their charge from the gentle slopes of the southern part of the highlands, like a sharp metro sword, and stabbed into the heart of the Hun mercenaries.

The sudden neighing of the horses knocked down all obstacles in their path, and it was not difficult to see that all attempts to reorganize the army had failed, and the swarming Alan cavalry roared and slaughtered wildly in the crowd, and the corpses on the ground piled up layer after layer, and the blood almost stained the entire mountain red.

"Retreat! Fall back! ”

The Hun mercenaries, who could not hold back at noon, beckoned each other to retreat, and it was hard to imagine how spectacular the run of thousands of people was, and the chaotic footsteps kicked up the dust on the ground to obscure the sky.

The dust gathered together like a huge curtain, blocking the view of the Romans and allowing the Huns to better retreat.

"We won! We won! ”

The Alans rode their horses at the top of the heights and cheered, as the battle of the constant charge and counter-charge with all their might finally came to an end.

Attila was not far away, but he could see it clearly, he never expected that the battle would end so dramatically.

"Just a few barrels of fire oil, let them take care of themselves, and the chaos led to being washed in blood by the Romans, what a bunch of idiots who eat dry rice!"

Attila yelled, but he couldn't do anything, because he still needed the strength of these people, even if they were already scared.

"My king, what shall we do next?"

"Stand back! With your back to the Marne, let the horses drink and rest. Attila's eyes were sharp, and he said fiercely: "Next, let me personally command and let the Romans know that they are too soon to be complacent!" ”