Of all the regular regiments in Bledsoe, the captain officer always had the highest rate of battle losses in every war, especially the squad leader.

This military "tradition" originated in Bledsoe's Knights, and eventually became a custom that spread among all levels of the army in the Land of Lions.

The reason for this is that because the high-ranking ones tend to take care of the low-level knights as their own responsibility, and the "sacrifice" in chivalry always reminds them that they are dedicated to others, so in Bledsoe's Knights, there is often a very strange phenomenon, the captain-level officers are killed in battle, but the team members return safely.

At first, the strategic analysts of other forces were skeptical, believing that in a place with a clear system and discipline like the military, how could there be such a high-spirited way of doing things, let alone a behemoth like Bledsoe.

But in fact, they found that in Bledsoe's army, no matter what situation they encountered, it was the captain who led the charge, the captain died in battle, the adjutant took his post, the adjutant died in battle, the squad leader took his post, the squad leader died in battle, and the elder led the team, until the last man!

Therefore, in the Bledsoe Army, although the battle loss rate of officers was extremely high, there were constantly outstanding successors to fill their positions.

People always attribute this to Bledsoe's excellent and complete training system and complain that it is the "brainwashing effect" of chivalry, but they tend to ignore that it is the behavior of high-ranking knights who leads by example and often gives low-level knights the most intuitive feeling.

When they are young, their seniors and mentors will always stand in front of them without hesitation, so when they survive a field battle and continue to grow into high-level knights, they will also block attacks again and again for their juniors and newcomers.

It is the continuous inheritance of this spirit that has forged the immortal reputation of the Knight of Bledsoe. They may not be as powerful as orcs, they may not have the same vision as elves, and they may not be as intelligent as gnomes.

However, their courage is unparalleled in the world!

- "Peerless Knight"

Bledsoe's knights cut through the enemy's positions coldly, even as strong as orcs looked pale in the face of the relentless torrent of steel.

Their bodies are lifted and fallen like autumn leaves, facing the slight coolness of the wind, stirring up the dust of the earth, accompanied by the sound of horses' hooves in their ears, and resting here, the hometown of their ancestors.

Watching his people fall one by one, Garush's nails sinking deep into his palms, and the nightmares of the abyss of the old memories came flooding in, as if they were about to swallow up all the warmth in his body.

He had dreamed of leading his people to a happy future, where parents would no longer have to worry about their children's food for the winter, no longer afraid of the plundering of other tribes, and he had hoped that Gunn's name would be resounding throughout Garent, that Gunn's warriors would always hold their heads high, and that the spirits of their ancestors would be in charge of the tribe.

It's just that everything has gone through the cracks... For some reason, all the images came to an end, and they all converged into the face of old Garrosh: "Don't provoke those Bledsoe humans... They are all demons...".

At this moment, recalling his father's advice again and again, he suddenly realized that perhaps his father's words seemed to him to be a sign of cowardice, but in his father's eyes, there was never a trace of retreat and panic, only deep regret and remembrance.

It's just that I've been ignoring this point all the time, consciously or unconsciously, maybe... Are all the rumors about my father true?

If you have a chance to make it back alive, you have to figure it all out. Garrosh thought as he gave his final order—

"Εμπρφυλνκη!" Gunn's warriors never bowed their heads, and the blood of the tribe was only spilled on the battlefield.

When the orcs heard the patriarch's shout, they all knew that it was time for life and death.

They silently look at the letters and totems on their bodies, or gently rub their hands against them, as if feeling the temperature there—they are saying goodbye to their loved ones or their beliefs in this way.

Then the orc warriors and the troll hunters let out a majestic roar, and the eyes of the orc warriors in the front row were blood-red, and they rushed to Bledsoe's iron hooves, and used their bodies to block the horses' progress, and they pounced, or hugged, or bitten, and did everything in their power to delay the knights for a little time.

On the battlefield, the knight who loses his speed will be greatly reduced, and at that time, it will be the opportunity of the clansmen!

The combat power of the orcs who were not afraid of death was indeed amazing, and the knights' forward pace was forcibly stopped, and as the orcs dragged a horse at the cost of 4 or even 5 people, the casualties in Bledsoe's formation also rose sharply.

Brad saw his teammates around him being swept up and thrown under the horse by several orcs, and he lost his breath in an instant, if there was anger in his eyes, he would spew out, the tip of his tongue was like a spring thunder, and the spear stabbed out like a silver dragon into a stream, and every time he waved his arm, an orc warrior must have fallen down with his throat clutched.

Under the stimulus, Brad gave full play to his strength, and even broke through the shackles and went to the next level.

However, the overly dazzling performance also attracted the attention of the orcs, and the orc warriors at the forefront had already been determined to die, and at this moment, seeing Brad shine, they all wanted to kill him and destroy a strong enemy for their companions.

For a while, Brad was taken care of, and the orc warriors kept attacking him and his mount, although within the range of his spear, the orc warriors couldn't get close to the gods at all, but they kept hitting again and again, each time by a different person, Brad couldn't help but feel numb in his wrists.

At the same time, the orc warriors, seeing that it would be difficult to capture this difficult knight in a short period of time, moved their attacks to the horse's belly and legs, and occasionally threw some throwing axes in the hope of sneaking up on the attack.

Finally, Brad was careless for a while, did not control the mount in time to dodge, the front leg of the war horse was cut by an orc warrior, the war horse fell to the ground in pain, and even Brad was thrown to the ground, and one leg was accidentally pressed by the war horse, you know, the body of the war horse is already heavy, plus the weight of the whole set of heavy armor, this time directly made him feel that his leg bones were broken.

Just when Brad looked at the approaching orcs and secretly screamed in his heart, several familiar figures in front of him suddenly reined in their horses, turned around and killed, and with the fluctuation of vitality, the orcs surrounding Brad were all killed on the spot.

Although it was not wise to use the vitality in a situation that suddenly fell into disadvantage, the knights did not hesitate to rescue their comrades.

One of them rode up to Brad's side, pulled back his mask and laughed loudly: "Yo! Look who this is! This is our great Lord Brad!"

Even in this situation, Jayd still laughed and joked to Brad: "Hey, boy! I told you not to run too fast, you don't have to fall off the horse!"

The knights behind him also burst into laughter, in the chaotic battlefield, they regarded the alien race on the left and right as nothing, so proud, worthy of the name of Bledsoe!

Jayd stretched out his hand, his expression gradually becoming serious: "Brad, it's going to be a tough battle next, fight with me, don't fall off the horse again, and live forever......"

Brad stretched out his hand and sat down behind Jayd, he sniffed unconvinced, and said to Jayd: "Captain, that was an accident, you also want to see how many orcs I killed!

"Don't worry, boy, you're the youngest, and none of us old guys want to attend your funeral!"

......

Garush saw that his people were blocking the advance of humanity with their bodies at the cost of their lives, and his hands trembled, most of the orcs who died in battle were partners who grew up with him, they were all warriors of their own tribe, and they had experienced battles with other tribes again and again, but in the end, they fell here......

He asked the shaman beside him for a few blessings, urging his wolf to kill the knights. He was indeed worthy of the power of the patriarch, wielding a war hammer with bursts of red light, directly smashing the knight who was in his way off the war horse.

Seeing their own patriarch join the battle and be so brave, the orcs let out another burst of cheers, and the counterattack became even more ferocious.

Just when they thought they had a glimmer of life again, a scene appeared that they would never forget.

............