**[Killed an Imperial Crossbowman, Experience +100]**
**[Killed an Experienced Imperial Crossbowman, Experience +300]**
**[Killed an Imperial Crossbowman, Experience +100]**
**[Killed an Imperial Crossbowman, Experience +100]**
...
Alexander's experience points were rapidly increasing. His status panel now showed:
**[Level]: 6**
**[Strength]: 10**
**[Agility]: 10**
**[Intelligence]: 6**
**[Charisma]: 7**
**[Available Attribute Points]: 0**
**[Experience]: 3100/3200**
**[System Coins]: 0**
With another thrust of his lance, Alexander killed another enemy, leveling up again. He quickly allocated his attribute points to Strength on the battlefield and continued fighting. By the time he had finished off the Imperial crossbowmen, his experience points had increased significantly.
The remaining Imperial crossbowmen were now fleeing in all directions, no longer daring to cluster together. As is well known, the power of crossbows relies on the formation of a concentrated volley; scattered shots are far less effective. At this moment, Alexander immediately redirected his troops to target the Imperial archers.
Despite the significant losses his men had suffered, with fewer than 20 left, their morale was at its peak. They resembled a group of bloodthirsty beasts, unafraid of any enemy.
Seeing the blood-red eyes of Alexander, Alphat felt a cold sweat run down his back.
"Form ranks! Form ranks! Form ranks!" he shouted three times, trying to dispel his own fear.
Over a hundred shield-bearing infantry formed a circle to protect the archers. The archers quickly turned their arrows, ready to deal with Alexander's troops.
However, Alexander had not lost his wits. He immediately ordered his troops to retreat to the edge of the battlefield. They had dared to charge the crossbowmen only because it was a surprise attack. A frontal assault would have likely resulted in them being turned into pincushions.
After this, Alexander's troops roamed the outskirts of the battlefield, occasionally picking off isolated Imperial soldiers, but never venturing into the center.
Alexander's reasoning was clear: as mercenaries, they had already done more than enough. Taking out a unit of Imperial crossbowmen was an impressive feat, and there was no need to risk their lives further.
The battle between the two sides lasted for half a day. Slaughtering over a thousand mobile targets, akin to pigs, was not a quick task, especially since the Empire, despite being at a disadvantage, had superior equipment.
Alexander, operating on the edge of the battlefield, continually accumulated military merits. By the time the battle ended, his status panel had updated to:
**[Level]: 7**
**[Strength]: 11**
**[Agility]: 10**
**[Intelligence]: 6**
**[Charisma]: 7**
**[Available Attribute Points]: 0**
**[Experience]: 5400/6400**
**[System Coins]: 0**
The battle concluded with the Western Empire's complete defeat, as expected. The Empire's inherent weaknesses were evident, particularly their inability to handle the massed cavalry of the Kingdom of Saint Martin.
The Western Empire had just emerged from chaos and was a newly established state. The soldiers' resolve wasn't particularly strong, with many conscripted into the army in a daze and equally bewildered when they found themselves on the battlefield. In stark contrast, the soldiers of the Kingdom of Saint Martin were well-trained, with many having fought in several battles.
Especially noteworthy were the troops under Archduke Ferdinand, whose combat prowess was exceptional. They employed every conceivable dirty trick without concern for decency. Despite their impressive performance, Archduke Ferdinand was mortified by his troops' underhanded tactics, unsure of who had taught them to fight that way. Fortunately, their combat effectiveness was undeniable; otherwise, Ferdinand might have been tempted to execute his drill sergeants on the spot. Among the assembled nobility, maintaining appearances often trumped mere victory.
Marshal Hex's eyes lit up. He greatly appreciated this style of warfare, which differed significantly from traditional noble thinking. Hex believed that any method was acceptable as long as it led to victory.
This philosophy aligned with the thoughts of a famous figure from a distant eastern land. That man was Sun Tzu, who wrote "The Art of War," a treatise recording many cunning and strategic methods of combat.
Following this approach, the traditional noble-style frontal battles of the Spring and Autumn period gave way to a competition of deceit and guile. Hex, though unaware of his philosophical kinship with Sun Tzu, firmly believed that the ultimate goal of war was victory by any means.
Meanwhile, Alexander Castilla, the source of these underhanded tactics, was frantically looting the battlefield. He collected everything of value, from greatswords and breastplates to loaves of wheat bread. Nothing was spared as Alexander converted all the spoils into potential dinars in his mind.
Of course, Alexander didn't waste too much time collecting spoils of war—he still had to chase down those fleeing soldiers. They were, after all, an incredibly rich source of experience.
Alexander's cavalry was exceptionally valiant at this moment. Apart from their initial charge against the crossbowmen, they hadn't engaged in any serious combat. Instead, they had been patrolling the periphery, picking off scattered soldiers. As a result, they weren't fatigued and were now relentlessly hunting down the fleeing soldiers of the Western Empire.
Alexander and his troops' performance caught someone's attention.
"Who is that lord? Why have I never seen him before?"
Marshal Hex lifted his heavy visor, his gaze fixed on the gradually receding figure of Alexander.
One of his subordinates promptly reported, "Marshal, that is Alexander Castile, heir to the House of Castile of the Lion family."
"Hmm, the Castile family still has descendants? To think those sickly individuals could produce such a valiant offspring, tsk tsk."
Marshal Hex smiled faintly, unsure if it was in admiration or mockery. Nevertheless, his mood was undoubtedly good, having just achieved a significant victory. Even the sunlight seemed brighter, reflecting off his white and blue armor, making it shine brilliantly.
The subordinate remained silent; it wasn't his place to comment on any noble.
Unbeknownst to Alexander, his name had already been noted by Marshal Hex. He was still fervently collecting experience points when he suddenly sensed something was amiss.
"Was it you who plundered my village? Such a lowly and despicable act, you've brought disgrace upon noble honor!"
A shout reached Alexander's ears. He looked up to see that Alfat had reformed his scattered troops and was now waiting in formation on a small hill.
In reality, Alexander didn't recognize Alfat, but that shout revealed Alfat's identity to him.
"What nonsense are you spouting? I, Alexander Castile, would never stoop to such underhanded actions. A true noble would never slander a stranger; only those with vile hearts would do such a thing."
Well, of course, Alexander would never admit to such actions. That was simply out of the question!