The cruelty of the Cold Weapons Era lay in that samurai had to personally chop off their enemies' heads, facing the blood directly.
And they had grown accustomed to it.
Nathan, leading the 300 men of the third squad, charged in, clashing like two torrents, with blood splattering everywhere.
He was exceptionally brave, killing seven men on his way in and driving the noble army to successive defeats.
They held the strategic advantage of the terrain, while the noble army had to wade through water to attack, which was extremely disadvantageous for the latter.
And their fine equipment was no joke—everywhere one looked there were only simple half-body plate armor, steel spears, steel knives, everything one could need, with no inferior goods to be seen.
"Damn it! We can't beat them! Run for it!"
Someone shouted out loud.
Morale completely collapsed.
Some turned their heads to see that the fleet at the rear couldn't land.
