- On the other side of the hill, however, a torrent of red gold rushed down like red-hot molten steel. It was a group of imposing dragoons, they charged with their swords in tow, their solemn visors covering their expressions, their waving cloaks rolling like flags, and the golden light of their armor on the red paint, making the knights burst into the light of dawn.

This dazzling cavalry rushed into the gap between the armored brigade and the French infantry, like molten iron poured on an ant colony, and immediately completed the task of dividing in depth.

Because the tanks of the armored brigade were still rumbling, their main guns could not be turned back and they could not fire at the dragoons. Presumably having received an order to encircle and annihilate the dragoons, the tanks in front were clumsily turning, trying to form a huge encirclement, and then blasting over these noble knights with a salvo.

If the dragoons maintained their impact and broke through with one blow, their horses would have the strength to break out of the encirclement. But Admiral Farina will never waste a precious opportunity.

"Their guns can't turn, so now! Attack the tracks as much as you can!" Admiral Farina stopped sharply, roaring in circles in a hail of bullets, the bullets "clanging" on him, and the crackling sound of richeting bullets was incessant, like a bead falling on an iron plate. Then the admiral caught the belly of the horse, led the dragoons to chase the tank, and forcibly launched a chase from the rear.

"Father!" Griffith, fearing that the Admiral would be shot, struggled to keep up and led the Third Squadron of Dragoons to protect the Admiral.

At this time, the cavalry artillery battalion led by Claude also abandoned the cavalry guns, mounted their horses one after another, and rushed down the hills like bamboos, repeatedly breaking up the infantry line chasing Farina, creating space for the main general to pursue.

Once the iron hooves of the heavy cavalry were densely packed, they formed a deterrent for rhinoceros to gallop through the wilderness. The rampaging dragoons were like raging buffaloes, leaving no grass behind them, and the terrifying impact cast a shadow over the French army, and the battlefield was chaotic for a time.

And Farina took the lead, leading the dragoons to catch up with the armored brigade. The formation of the dragoons seeped into the tank group, as if rows of water were dripping all over the pane of glass.

The infantry squads, which were fighting in tandem with the tanks, were attacked from the rear and were caught off guard, one by one standing in place and trying to counterattack. However, when the dragoons roared past, the two-meter-long Wind King's sword only had to be horizontal, and the speed of the war horse could make the blade of the sword harvest wheat - slashing the infantry by waist was like blowing off the hair, cutting off the military uniform even silently.

At this time, in the eyes of the French army, the Wind King Sword that rode the wind and lightning was even more terrifying than the large circular saw of the sawmill.

And this terror has become a talisman for the dragoons!

At the same time, the steam tank's huge tracks suddenly turned into a huge failure - because the tracks surrounded the turret like a stand-up collar, the turret could not complete a 360-degree turn, and the firing range was only 120 degrees. The shortcomings of this firing range were not obvious when the Emperor commanded the lightning advance, but when Admiral Farina launched a surprise attack from the rear, the shortcomings of the turret became apparent, forming a fatal flaw.

Therefore, the dragoons carefully planned, trying to officially declare war on the steam tanks with minimal casualties, and for the glory of the knightly age, to fight with the armored legions.

By the time the tanks in front had made a big turn, the dragoons had already broken up the infantry regiment and headed straight for the advancing tanks. Admiral Farina took the lead, swept past a galloping tank, raised his sword with both hands, and slashed diagonally at the circle of flying tracks in the moment of passing by.

The speed of the track was extremely fast, and Farina's blade shook violently, as if it had reached into a great maelstrom, and was unloaded by a strong force, almost flying out of his hand. Fortunately, Admiral Farina held the sword in both hands, held it very firmly, and the angle of the cut was very scientific, so that the blade was not bounced off, but slashed solidly on the track.

The Wind King's sword and the track exchanged sparks, and Admiral Farina's tiger mouth burst with blood, and even the chain mail in the palm of his hand was shattered. With a loud sound of "Dang!", the golden light of the Wind King Sword suddenly dimmed, and after consuming the energy of the law, the law field of "hardness max" really took effect, the hardness of the blade took over, and the steel track broke in response.

Immediately afterwards, a piece of debris flew out of the tracks of the tank, and then the left track suddenly fell to the ground, spreading more than ten meters on the ground, and the remaining three pairs of load-bearing wheels fell into the grass and spun around, like dogs scraping mud, stirring up waves of mud that rushed to the sky, shooting the turquoise mud into the air, like a fountain of mud.

The tank that was paralyzed on the left side was suddenly out of control by the speed of the track on the right, and the huge steel body turned out of control, like a wolf turning back and biting people, and suddenly made a 360-degree turn, and the turret crashed head-on into Admiral Farina's war horse!

Griffith cried out heartbreakingly, "Father!"

Admiral Farina let out a dying roar in the night. He left his stirrups with both feet, stood in the saddle with his hunched waist, and blocked with his sword in both hands, and then leaped over the turret and flew into the air in a parabola, and as he leaped high, his cloak tumbling in the sky like a flame.

When Admiral Farina landed and got up unscathed, his horse had been smashed to pieces by the tank, and the flesh and iron had disappeared under the car—and the tank was even more panicked, as if it had lost control, and the intact side of the track pushed the body around in place, running over and over again like a spinning top.

While spinning in place, the tank's turret kept its sanity, reloading and firing one shot after another, and the black hole of the gun was like a dead Russian roulette, and it would fire randomly as it spun in circles. Both the French and the dragoons will be attacked indiscriminately, whether it is men or horses, and when they receive cannonballs, they will become a pile of meat and bones.

At the same time, the forward units of the tank group also took the lead in completing the turn, and more than 20 tanks were distributed at the end of the radial track imprints, facing the French and dragoons in a semicircle, and opened fire without saying anything. Countless French soldiers were injured by mistake. And the armored brigade was indifferent.

The steppe turned into a slaughterhouse. Admiral Farina, reduced to infantry, was knocked over by a cannon and buried in a torrent of dirt as soon as he stood up.

This scene tore Griffith's lungs.

As the out-of-control steel monster fired wildly, Griffith opened his eyes, lowered his body, urged his horse to sped up, and rushed madly towards the tank—and then he used his father's skill to ride his horse past the tank, and the Wind King's sword swept past the barrel of the cannon.

The light shone golden, and the Wind King's sword sent back the stirring force of the steel that was just hitting it, and it also shattered Griffith's jaw, but the knight still won—the barrel of the cannon broke off at the waist, and was sharpened into a pencil by a sword.

Then Griffith galloped to his father's side, dismounted, and let thousands of horses gallop behind him, dying, digging up the floating earth, and holding up the coughing general: "Father, are you alright?"

Admiral Farina lay in his son's arms, coughing violently, puffs of blood spurting from the gaps in his visor. But he trembled and raised his arm, pushed away his helmet, revealing his bright red and sharp mustache, squinted at his son, and muttered with satisfaction: "Knight...... No worse than a tank, hold your sword tightly, chivalry will never die!"

"Father!" Griffith was suddenly terrified, he feared that his father's deliberate and earnest teaching would become the last lesson for father and son.

Farina opened his round eyes and shouted: "Calm down! Remember my words and create fear for your opponent!" Do you see that crazy tank, don't be afraid of it, because behind its madness, I see infinite fear-after I cut off the tracks, it will be nailed to this inch of soft ground forever, and it can't even move freely in the direction of the turret......" The old fierce general suddenly coughed up blood, he struggled to clench his son's armarmor, glared at him, and the wrinkles on his face were filled with blood: " Learn my lesson, charge at a wide angle, cut through the tracks and get away right away - observe, always watch the enemy! I can only teach you so much! I ...... Ahem, I appoint you as the commander-in-chief of the Western Front, and you are responsible for leading the rest of your colleagues to carry out the plan thoroughly!"

"No, I'm going to take you to the medical class......" Griffith said without saying a word, digging through the dirt and trying to pick up his father. But Admiral Farina's marshal armor weighed two hundred pounds, and Griffith could never have carried him far on his back.

So the admiral slapped his son in the face.

The dragoon adjutant rushed over, rolled over and dismounted, and assisted Griffith in supporting the commander, looking at the angry admiral speechless.

Farina shouted hoarsely at her son: "You must take the lead in the charge! This is the tradition of the Farina family! Knightly dignity, fight here!"

Griffith's visor was crooked, revealing two snow-white lips. His teeth chattered. Then he stood up, looked down at his father in the mud, and without saying a word, drew the sword of the Wind King from the grass on the ground.

"Adjutant, protect your father!!" the young major general said this, made up his mind, turned over in the saddle, and roared on his prancing horse: "The first squadron looks at me!" Then the long sword slapped the horse's buttocks, the iron hooves raised a cloud of mud, and Griffith took the lead and rushed towards the disorganized armored corps.

The dragoon adjutant hurriedly said to the admiral: "I'll dig you out......"

"Bury me. Admiral Farina gasped and muttered, "I don't want more people to see me lying here." ”

"I will definitely take you back to the medical class......" the adjutant disobeyed. Without saying a word, he dug out the lower half of Farina's body, but he didn't touch the leg armor in the mud for a long time. The adjutant opened his round eyes and saw that the main general was actually empty below the thigh. The adjutant raised his hands and looked at them, only to see that the mud was soaked in dark red, and the blood had moistened the mud into thin mud.

"Bury me. Admiral Farina's gaze drifted, "Charge, or die on the way." The knightly way never dies. ”

Only then did the adjutant know the reason why the marshal had all his strength to slap his son. The marshal hoped that the dragoons would all join this great charge. He didn't want someone to hold the reins out of grief.

Admiral Farina's voice waned, and the quivering mustache finally stopped. He died on the way to the charge. This obligation is extremely honorable.

The adjutant howled and shouted as he frantically dug into the earth to bury the admiral. Like a lost dog, he wept bitterly and buried the strong red gold armor and the beautiful dragoon helmet. I don't know when, there were already a few dragoons next to him who stopped silently and reined in sentimentality.

Then the adjutant drew his sword and mounted his horse, shouting hoarsely: "Dragoons, you will die on the way to the charge!"

There was a wild roar from under those serious visors, and the dragoons moved like rabbits, like golden waves, and pounced on the panicked tank group, with a magnificent momentum, as if sweeping Liuhe!