Chapter 6: The Military Formation
On the magical formation, Instructor Hall was frantically maneuvering his troops, row by row, column by column. Each soldier was methodically positioning themselves, and despite their ant-like appearance on the magical formation, the intricate patterns of their movements clearly revealed the impeccable organization of the army led by Duke Lionheart in the past.
Two hours had passed, and clear square formations emerged on the magical formation. The infantry was at the forefront, right hands gripping spears, left hands holding shields, much like the infantry of the remnants of the Three Kingdoms, except their armor was a brilliant silver, simple yet reflecting a sharp, razor-like sheen under the sun.
Behind them stood archers and crossbowmen, followed by heavily armored guards who resembled fortresses. A total of thirty formations, like a sticky paste, tightly encircled the remnants of the Three Kingdoms, leaving no room for escape or vulnerability.
The tightness of the formation seemed to suggest that even a fly couldn't escape.
"It seems Hall is really angry," said the fair-skinned middle-aged instructor, lightly tracing a quill pen across a white sheet of paper while smiling faintly. The gloom on his face had lightened significantly, as if a ray of sunshine had pierced through the dense clouds.
Upon hearing the instructor's words, Qingyin's lips parted slightly, revealing her pearly teeth as she took a long breath, suddenly appearing more relaxed.
"Instructor, was this order from Duke himself?" Qingyin asked, her eyes briefly closing as she addressed the fair-skinned instructor.
The instructor paused, his quill pen suddenly still in mid-air, the tiny sound of its abrupt halt echoing clearly. The sliver of sunshine that had just appeared on his face vanished instantly.
"General Cangfeng, should I address you as such?" Qingyin asked, her slender hands resting gently on her floral dress, a smile blooming on her face like a daffodil.
"..." The fair-skinned instructor chuckled suddenly, his gloomy expression softening in an instant. "To deduce the entire story from mere scraps of information, it seems Duke was right about you."
"It's a pity, though. If that Fatty had half your capabilities..." The instructor sighed softly before turning his gaze back to the magical formation, his expression becoming increasingly complex.
Disappointment, loneliness, and other emotions swirled together, darkening the shadows etched in his brow.
But it didn't take long for the expression on Cangfeng's face to freeze, all in the blink of an eye.
His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto the magical formation, their glint flickering uncertainly. The only certainty was that something extraordinary had occurred within the formation.
As Cangfeng stared at the magical formation like a statue, Qingyin's usual composure faltered. Her eyes, as clear as autumn waters, turned towards the formation.
Her sapphire-like eyes held a trace of confusion. She couldn't fathom what had surprised Cangfeng, a general once renowned alongside Earl Heil's General Blacker.
When her gaze fell on the war chess, Qingyin's eyes too became fixed, her milky white eyelids not even fluttering.
On the magical formation, Fatty's remnants of the Three Kingdoms were also assembling, their countless ant-like soldiers converging towards one direction, directly facing the strongest point of Instructor Hall's fifty thousand troops.
"Attack... and choose the thickest part of the enemy's forces? That Fatty...?" Cangfeng's voice was heavy with disbelief, his already gloomy expression threatening to pour out rain.
Cangfeng struggled to find words to describe Fatty. Idiot was an overestimation; fool was insufficient; dumb ox didn't quite fit.
No words seemed to encapsulate Fatty's actions. Even if he had maintained his original formation, the final "score" would likely have been better than what he was doing now.
But Fatty had chosen the most foolish approach: attacking, and specifically targeting the strongest point of the fifty thousand troops.
"You must protect me at all costs. No matter what happens outside, even if the entire formation collapses, you must stand by my side. I am the center of this formation. If I die, you will be 'criminals,'" Fatty commanded, gesturing wildly from atop his scarlet warhorse to the heavily armored guardians surrounding him, who resembled fortresses.
"Yes..." A deep voice reverberated from the tallest, most solid-looking guardian, muffled and suffocating within the steel.
Listening to that deep voice and surveying the thirty elite guardians, Fatty's heart settled slightly.
Thirty guardians, thirty steel bastions, ensuring he would be safe from any stray arrows. And with these thirty bastions guarding him, his life was as secure as a rock.
"Yes, as secure as a rock," Fatty mumbled, patting his chest cautiously.
Ten thousand remnants, like trapped beasts in a cage, had no chance of breaking free under the sturdy bars, let alone shattering the cage entirely.
So Fatty knew he couldn't turn the tide. All he could do was make the trapped beast unleash its final ferocity as it neared its end, breaking the enemy's teeth, or rather, making them hemorrhage.
Under Fatty's orders, the ten thousand remnants had transformed into the shape of an arrow. At the sharp tip stood five hundred guards, second only to the guardians in combat prowess. Behind them were thousands of archers and crossbowmen, and on the flanks, five thousand infantry.
The guards and infantry flanked the archers and crossbowmen, turning the remaining ten thousand remnants into a taut arrow, ready to shoot out at any moment and carve a gaping hole in the enemy formation.
The Spearhead Formation, a tactic designed for concentrated breakthroughs.
The formation of troops is something that every general must master in that world. The more proficient one is in mastering various formations, the greater the chance of winning on the battlefield.
This is a test of a general's command capability. The higher the general's command capability, the greater the power that can be unleashed by the troop formation. In military confrontations, if both sides have a thousand soldiers and use the same formation, and if one general can use his thousand soldiers to unleash their full combat potential in the midst of a fierce battle, while the other can only unleash the combat potential of five hundred soldiers, the outcome of the battle is self-evident.
Moreover, this refers to both sides using the same "formation." If one side uses a formation while the other merely charges as a group, the result is predictable from the start. The combat effectiveness of an effective military organization far surpasses that of a disorganized mob.
Yes, a side without a formation, even if its soldiers are well-trained, is still a disorganized mob. Once a gap is opened, it is easy for the entire formation to collapse.
The fat man had already mastered troop formations to perfection. In that world, whenever there was a fair duel, there was no battle he could not win.
Of course, given the fat man's nature, he would never choose to engage in a fair duel unless it was absolutely necessary, but this did not hinder his proficiency in troop formations.
At first, to learn troop formations, the fat man had to work incredibly hard. The books on troop formations he read were so worn down that the corners of the pages were curled and deformed. To find a teacher, he even went to the lengths of begging his elders and treading on the thresholds of several elderly generals' residences. There was even one dying general who was familiar with the雁形 formation for cavalry, but the persistent fat man managed to "annoy" him back from the brink of death...
And in the end, the fat man's accomplishments in troop formations surpassed even those of the most experienced elderly generals.
The spearhead formation, a basic formation, allowed the fat man to break through the enemy's central army when facing triple the number of enemy troops.