The Huns, the cunning Huns, prey on their prey like the maned dogs of Africa, and they rode their horses and galloped, sometimes gathering and sometimes scattering.

Golding seemed to be more adept at maximizing the abilities of the Hun archers than the other commanders, and using a more agile style of play that was more lethal and maddening than scattering arrows in groups.

The Roman soldiers under the command of Aetius could only watch them dodge nimble but could not do anything, and they could only grit their teeth and stare fiercely at the Huns galloping wildly, clutching pike darts and javelins tightly in their hands but useless.

This is why the Huns were able to conquer the Germanic settlements north of the Rhine again and again and keep them under the hooves of their horses. For they were powerless against the nimble cavalry and the proud archery of the Huns, just as the people of the era of unification were powerless.

The only thing that held them back was the tall and sturdy city walls, so China in the east had the Great Wall, but this was in Rome, and there was no way to resist such an attack except the side walls of the Rhine.

"Dense array! Dense array! ”

Andrew raised his shield and raised the iron sword in his hand and shouted loudly, but heard a sharp whistling past, and Andrew withdrew his hand as if he had been electrocuted.

"Damn! Damn it! ”

Andrew roared, and then looked down at his right hand, which had an extra wound on his arm, but fortunately the arrow had slashed through it, not through it.

"Steady! Steady! ”

Andrew still did not forget his duty, he raised his head and shouted loudly. Watching the soldiers beside him raise their shields, a huge tortoiseshell formation formed around him.

The soldiers of the other field regiments did the same, and the archers, behind them, using their raised shields as cover, occasionally counterattacked the Hun cavalry opposite, but this was tantamount to shooting fish in the sea, with little effect.

"Da Da Da..."

The arrow bounced off the shield with a crisp sound, like a fist pounding on the shield, and some of the arrows passed through the gaps between the shields, landed at the feet of the soldiers or pierced through the legs of the unfortunate, and the soldiers who formed the tortoiseshell formation suffered such a slight blow while praying that the Hun cavalry would soon run out of arrows in their pockets.

The army of the Roman Luga.

The cavalry led by Luga finally stopped when they could not withstand the resistance of the large number of savage soldiers, only to see them throw away their cavalry guns and draw their iron swords or maces and slash continuously.

With such a full body of iron armor and even a hideous mask on their faces, their roars were all in another tone that made the barbarians present fearful.

They were like iron fortresses, staring at the crowd like a tidal wave and slowly moving forward.

Roman soldiers with shields and iron swords cut through the gap between them, shielding the cavalry with shields so that they could continue their advance.

The barbarian soldiers in the rear, who did not know the truth, saw the soldiers in front of them screaming and retreating, and kept muttering, "Demons, demons, demons in full armor!" ”

For a while, the army was disorganized, and fear spread among the crowd at an alarming speed like a virus, and soon, almost the tens of thousands of barbarians in the entire army knew that the Romans had ironclad demons that could not be cut down.

"Damn it, hold it down, give me a foothold!" Odoric roared, standing on a small dirt slope, and turned back to his soldiers and shouted, "They are but Romans in heavy iron armor, why fear them? Give me spears and axes and attack the Romans! Go on the offensive! ”

Viesgothic Army.

Toris Montzee rode with a mighty Gothic cavalry from the left side of the Hun infantry on the opposite side, and came to stop them by the Hun archers, who had long been devoid of arrows.

Their thin clothes and sabers were no match for the Viesgoth heavy cavalry, and they were followed by Gothic nobles, and their armor was sufficient to protect them.

The Huns' archers were quickly routed by a devastating onslaught, and now there were no Huns left to stop the Visgoths.

"Kill them for me!"

Torismun roared loudly, raised his rifle and led his cavalry like waves towards the undefended flanks of the Huns.

"Boom..."

Thousands of horses' hooves trampled on the ground, causing the earth to tremble slightly, and only to see the smoke and dust raised by the cavalry like a tide roaring over the land like a monstrous wave.

For a moment, the roar of the Viesgoths and the neighing of their horses drowned out the screams of the Hun infantry.

Then, one by one, the Hun phalanx was overwhelmed by the whistling Visgothic cavalry, and the "drowned" Huns were naturally trampled to death by their horses or slashed by the Goths on horseback wielding iron swords.

In a devastating offensive, the mighty Visgothic cavalry even pushed the battle line into the middle of the Hun infantry.

The almost massacre attack made the mercenaries realize that money was still far less important than life, and their battle line was completely torn apart, along with their fighting spirit.

Under the rumbling hooves of the Visgoths, the Hun mercenaries cried and abandoned their armor and fled for their lives.

"What's going on?"

Attila heard the roar of the Vithgoths, who were now caught in the middle of the Gothic infantry, unable to pull out his feet.

The roar of rage and the cheers of the goths surprised him even more, could it be that everything he didn't want to see appeared in front of him so clearly?

"My king! My King! ”

A bloodied herald officer rode to Attila's side and said to Attila breathlessly: "The army has been defeated, our infantry has been routed by the Gothic cavalry!" ”

"Isn't Theodoric dead?"

Attila roared and turned his head to glare at the cavalry behind him, who all lowered their heads, not daring to make eye contact with him.

"Indeed, my king, Theodoric, is indeed dead!" Finally, a noble officer opened his mouth, and such an answer was also a huge risk.

"And who else? Who else among the Goths was able to assemble an army? Attila became more and more unable to figure it out, and the one-sided situation at this time made him unable to calm down any longer, and he began to chatter, wanting to attack at all costs, but there were insurmountable waves in front of him.

"Torrismon, son of Theodoric."

"Torrismon," Attila pondered for a moment, then continued, "the Goth who led the Alan's cavalry into the high grounds. ”

This guy named Torrismon is really not simple, he is like a blade hidden in the shadows of the Roman coalition, always giving Attila the most fatal blow at the most critical moment.

"Torrismon! Torrismon! Attila repeated Torismon's name over and over again, gritting his teeth, and you could imagine how much hatred he had in his heart.

Attila knew very well that the most stupid decision to let the soldiers risk continuing the offensive unconscious, they could not succeed, absolutely impossible.