The forest was filled with echoes, including the crackle of broken spears, the clash of swords, and the cries of "In the name of the Lord!" and "Allahu Akbar!"
People either cursed loudly, or begged for their lives, or were spared death, or were doomed. Some people survived, while others died.
"Fire the arrow!"
The archers hiding among the trees released arrows, and the arrows ruthlessly hit the heads of the Bulgar soldiers who still maintained their fighting spirit. Under the rain of arrows, there were screams.
Rostislav's surprise attack is still spreading in the Bulgar army. We must inflict enough casualties on this slow giant beast before he can react!
Beside the prince, the Bulgar soldiers were running away frantically, but as time went by, as troops that still had organization and combat capabilities entered the battlefield, more and more brave resisters appeared, and the balance of the battle began to change slightly.
.
It was just that the blood and fire on the battlefield and the surge of hormones that came with victory and fighting made the princes get caught up in the enthusiasm of the battlefield and failed to notice these subtle and slow changes.
On the chaotic battlefield, the prince's entourage still faithfully followed behind the prince, crushing with him the enemies who blocked them on the road.
Rostislav used his horse power to swing his long sword and slashed at the Bulgars. Bulgar raised his short ax and tried in vain to block the slashing sword, but to no avail. The long sword cut straight into the head under the hood.
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The war horse screamed, raised its front hoof, and kicked the chest of a Bulgar man who was charging towards him with a machete. The chain armor on the man could not protect him from the impact, and he was kicked to the ground directly. The man struggled.
After a few times, it stopped moving.
"Hurry! Hurry! Everyone follow me, don't leave!"
Pulling back his sword, Rostislav shouted to his followers. Although his brain was dominated by hormones, he still remembered that he must gather his troops. Once they were dispersed, it would mean death.
But as soon as he finished speaking, a spear pierced the prince's shield from the side. Rostislav immediately stabbed the spearman in the face. The spearman in armor covered his face full of blood and fell in pain.
Just when the spearman fell, his followers arrived belatedly. With Rostislav as the center, they rode their horses to drive away the surrounding enemies.
A Hungarian war horse ran past them. The owner of the war horse fell on the horse with an arrow stuck in his back. He was obviously dead.
Suddenly, a hail of arrows suddenly fell from nowhere. They treated everyone equally. They either bounced off the armor, or found the exposed flesh and stabbed fiercely.
Rostislav raised his shield and hid under it. There was a heavy blow on the shield, which was obviously an arrow falling.
"Everyone is okay."
The prince put down his shield, with two arrows stuck in it. He broke it off casually, not forgetting to touch the beautiful red temple hair of the war horse. Many places on the temple hair were stained red with blood.
But before Rostislav got any answer, he suddenly saw a rider charging towards him on a black horse. The rider was a Malian chief wearing an old-fashioned nose helmet and a bearskin cloak.
This chief was none other than Xi Wengmei, the most powerful tribal chief in the Mali region. He originally planned to slip away on the battlefield, but when he suddenly discovered that the prince of the Rus rushed to his front, he was instantly filled with the desire to kill him and seize the flag.
his heart.
If Rostislav's head could be taken, the reward would be enough to make this chief who had originally planned to fish it out on the battlefield fight to the bitter end.
Xiongmei wielded his broad sword, first using his power to cut down the soldiers blocking his way forward, and then the head of the accompanying man was cut off completely by him, with blood splattering everywhere.
Rostislav raised his shield, but the rider came up and the two horses collided with each other.
Fortunately, the terrain hindered the enemy's charging speed and the war horse was prepared, so he was not directly knocked over. However, he still screamed in pain and took a few steps back in embarrassment.
The chief's broad sword then slashed at the prince, but the red shield withstood the blow, and the force coming from his arm was so great that Rostislav couldn't help but pause.
Rostislav retaliated with a sword, but the chief was very experienced in war. He skillfully blocked the blow with the fur-encrusted buckler in his right hand, and tried to hit him with the buckler, but Rostislav immediately deflected the blow with his sword.
Seeing that the prince was being attacked, his followers were about to surround the enemy to protect him, but a group of Malian warriors who roared and fought rushed up. They were wearing ill-fitting hard leather and stolen armor, and were holding various knives, hammers, and axes.
The tribesmen with spears entangled the followers in a desperate manner.
Rostislav saw all this, and he understood that he wanted to kill the general and capture the flag, but it was not that easy to chop off his head!
Rostislav and Sionme were slashing back and forth with their swords. The two sides kept circling and circling, fighting again and again, looking for any possible loopholes in the other side.
The power of the broadsword made the prince's arms numb. He kept holding the sword to retaliate, and struck straight at the opponent's raised arm with a side slash, but the opponent's scale armor protected his arm.
The Malian warriors also kept riding in circles, trying to get to the unprotected side of Rostislav, but the prince's horse automatically turned around and bit the enemy's mount.
The warrior stood up with his stirrups and used his body weight and whole body strength to slash wildly. The prince raised his shield to receive the blows one after another, while looking for opportunities to counterattack.
Suddenly, the broadsword slashed across the iron edge of the shield in one slash and brought it to the horse's neck.
The war horse screamed and stood up, its eyes turned white in pain, and the air was filled with the ubiquitous smell of blood on the battlefield.
The red war horse angrily kicked the Namari people with its iron hoofs. One hoof hit the chief's bearded face, and another hoof hit the shoulder. Then the heavy war horse hit the chief's black horse and knocked it over.
Seeing this, Rostislav immediately drove his horse forward, trying to trample the chief under his horse.
The chief lost the broadsword in his hand when he was kicked away by the war horse. When he stood up, he could only pick up a shield full of dents, scratches and blood, and raised the shield above his head.
So Rostislav rode his horse around him, and the sharp blades fell like rain on the shield.
There were sawdust flying on the shield for a while, but in the end Xiang Wengmei finally slipped and fell to the ground on his back.
Seeing this, Rostislav kicked the war horse and stepped on it. The war horse stepped on the man and the chief let out a series of screams, but soon the screams subsided and then became smaller and smaller.
, until it disappears.
After the chief died under the iron hoofs of his war horse, the tribesmen who followed him also retreated. Just as they roared in, they also roared away. The followers immediately surrounded the prince and protected him.
central.
"God, this guy is so strong. If my horse hadn't kicked him over..."
Looking at Chief Mali lying on the ground, the prince could not help but feel a hint of fear in his words.