The little artilleryman was overjoyed when he saw Alan standing next to the rifled cannon.

This little artilleryman was also a member of the slaves, and he thought that coming to Tomorrow City would be the next dark day, but he didn't expect that the slaves could be promoted by labor, or true.

After a long period of labor, he managed to rise to the rank of freeman, and in an open call for an artillery tryout.

He thought that becoming a free citizen in this life was already the most awesome thing to do, and nothing better would happen, but he didn't expect that the occasional trial he signed up for passed him, and he became a glorious artilleryman.

After military training and drills, and now standing on the battlefield again, the little artillery Hawthorn finally met the great leader Allen.

"Lord Alan, what you just said is so cool!" The artillerymen were so excited that little stars appeared in their eyes.

"It's nothing, what I just said is the truth, slaves are no worse than freedmen, in fact there should be no class distinction between orcs and orcs, the difference between them may be a difference in knowledge."

Alan pointed to the brain, specifically to knowledge, and not to IQ or anything like that.

"Yes, you were right!" Hawthorn didn't know how to answer, so he simply stood up and put on a military posture to express his admiration.

Alan shook his head secretly, this thing didn't listen to it at all, and blindly worshiped it too much.

But it doesn't matter, he needs the people to be overly cultistic, and only in this way can he concentrate power on construction.

Cultism has a flaw, its ceiling depends on Allen's decisions, and if Allen makes the right decisions forever, Tomorrowland will skyrocket.

At that time, through biological research, the upper limit of human lifespan will be unlocked to eternity, and Eren will have an eternal lifespan at that time, and it will be no problem to take Tomorrow City all the way to the interstellar era.

"Lord Allen, Lord Allen, are you preparing for an ultra-long-range shot?"

Artilleryman Hawthorne's voice rang out, pulling Alan's thoughts back to reality.

"Well, turn the muzzle direction." Alan nodded.

"We're going to fight, but we don't see the enemy, Lord Allen." The artillery scratched its head and struggled to adapt to such an over-the-horizon strike.

In the direction of Allen's tune, there is a small hill that obscures most people's view.

Over-the-horizon strikes, i.e. orcs inflict strikes on targets out of sight.

Since the advent of rifled artillery, in battles that can be counted on ten fingers, rifled artillery has found that they simply cannot see the enemy when they strike.

"In the future, over-the-horizon strikes will become the norm, and you have to adapt." Alan said calmly, as if talking about a trivial matter.

"But we can't see the enemy, so how can we shoot?"

"There are firing angles and gunpowder filling forms for reference, if I am not present in the future, you will not have my help in pre-sight correction, you must make your own predictions and shoot by yourself."

"In the future, when the artillery resources are abundant, your artillery can practice over-the-horizon precision strikes, and now there are few shells, so you don't need to practice, just follow my instructions and open fire."

What Allen said is that in the future, now artillery shells are scarce and are not allowed to be wasted, and the artillerymen naturally have no opportunity to train.

"Yes!" The artillery was a little confused and a little looking forward to the future war.

Hawthorn used to envy those musketeers, they could practice with a fixed number of bullets every day, and they also fired more than 20 rounds during the battle, which was very enjoyable.

Now when they hear the handsome word "over-the-horizon strike", they of the artillery also have their own sense of existence.

Alan touched the barrel with his hand, and began to use the full-level hot weapon shooting skill in his heart.

In front of his eyes, rows of digital jumps emerged, recording the current change in wind direction and the degree of rifling wear inside the rifled barrel.

As Alan's gaze shifted, he looked at the barrel itself, and the barrel entity turned into a 3D stereoscopic perspective anatomy of the barrel, and the gunpowder residue inside was highlighted by the ability.

"There is gunpowder residue in the rifling part, clean it up."

"Yes!"

The artillerymen picked up professional cleaning tools and poked them into the barrel of the gun, and cleaned them in style.

"There is still a half of this rifling, clean it up again." Alan turned to the muzzle of the gun and pointed to the point of the dregs with one hand.

The artilleryman blushed and quickly cleaned up the residue.

As an artilleryman, he was actually pointed out by the city lord for the second time, and it was a bit derelict to be reasonable...... The artillerymen looked cautiously at Allen and saw that Allen did not complain about what they meant, but looked intently into the distance.

In front of Allen's eyes, the wind direction data that the orcs could not see was changing violently, indicating that a gust of wind was blowing in the forest at the moment, making the hit rate always beating.

After waiting for a while for the wind to become lighter and less effective on the shells, Alan whistled again and let the birds reconnoiter for a second time.

Only when the birds were sure that there was no noticeable change in the enemy's landing did he begin to order the gunpowder charge to be adjusted and the grenades to be loaded.

Allen walked back and forth between the four rifled guns, working together to adjust their muzzle orientation, charge, and firing angle.

According to the firing angle and approximate charge given by Allen, the artilleryman went through the firing table data in his head, and estimated that the landing point of the shell was between 1,500 meters and 1,550 meters, and there was a hill on that side, so it was not possible to see the flames after the explosion.

"Sure enough, it's so far away, I can't see the enemy at all at this distance, can I really shoot people?" The artillerymen were empty in their hearts, and they always felt that they were beating blindly.

When the cannon was fired last night, it was completely invisible, and it was completely based on the intuition of the city lord of Allen.

"Ignition, fire!" Alan's voice reached the orc's ears.

The artilleryman pulled the lead rope, and the barrels of the four guns moved, and the fire broke out neatly, and the grenades flew out of the barrels.

The barrel of the cannon is upturned as a whole due to the recoil, the butt of the cannon retreats, and due to the movement of the connecting rod, it automatically adjusts back to its original position.

The artillerymen did not bother to observe the magnitude of the error in the reset of the cannon, and their eyes were fixed on the flying grenades.

The grenade crossed a thousand and a half hundred meters of forest and at the same time fell into the dense forest behind the hills.

Wait for a second, a fiery red light shoots out of the forest, and four huge fireballs bubble from the forest, tumbling into the sky, turning into four mushroom clouds.

Strong winds visible to the naked eye blew out from the center of the explosion, blowing countless leaves and rustling the forest.

Although the hill obscured the place where it landed, the small mushroom that rose overshadowed the top of the hill, allowing the orcs to see the light.

"The grenade has landed!"

"I don't know if I hit it, Lord Allen, do you need us to take the initiative?"

"You don't have to move, just let the guerrillas harass them." Alan shook his head.

The orc, armed with a smoothbore gun, heard this order and regretfully lowered his gun.

It is a torture for them not to be able to harass those hateful lionmen in person.

……

Inside the green forest.

A minute ago, a large number of lion orcs looked confused and sat on the ground in a daze.

Armor and swords were scattered on the ground, and many orcs stared blankly at a leaf in the direction of Tomorrow City, where their dead teammates were.

The corpses of their teammates were left there, and their souls could not rest in peace.

The high priest stood on a high rock and was giving an impassioned speech in an attempt to regain morale.