"Sound the war horn! Tell those bastards to bring their men!" Vorgal took the sword handed to him by a guard, cracked his neck, and said coldly, "We're going to fight."

Fifteen minutes later, Ulster's army was ready and lined up at the entrance of the camp.

Fugal sat on his horse, looking at the forest ahead, his face solemn.

The black smoke in the air had not yet dissipated, but there was not a single enemy in sight. People in the army gradually began to whisper among themselves.

Fugal casually glanced around and smiled, saying, "Mice at most splash around in the gutter; when have you ever seen them in the sunlight?"

"Sir, the enemy has appeared!"

"Well!"

Having just made his boastful statement only to be proven wrong, Vladimir nearly choked on his own saliva.

Under the watchful eyes of thousands of Ulster soldiers, twenty-eight knights rode out slowly from the forest on their warhorses.

The armor gleamed, the knight's lance was jet black and sharp, and even the magnificent warhorse was clad in steel armor.

The Ulsters, holding rusty iron swords and tattered wooden shields, stood frozen in place, mouths agape, each one wearing an expression of utter disbelief.

“Heavy cavalry…heavy cavalry…” Vorgyar’s eyes widened as he roared at the commanders around him, “Who the hell can tell me! How can there be heavy cavalry here?!!”

Someone glanced at the knights' equipment and muttered, "Their gear is even better than the Royal Guard's..."

Seeing the knights opposite him calmly forming ranks and raising their spears, Vorgia suddenly realized the seriousness of the problem.

This is a plain, a flat plain!

He hadn't prepared any of those things, like horse traps, tripwires, or barricades!

The only spearmen capable of inflicting damage on cavalry were placed in the rear of the formation!

"Archers, retreat! Shieldbearers, advance!" Vorgal gave the order, only to find that the reserve forces drawn from all over the kingdom performed so poorly in the face of battle.

As soon as the formation changed, most of the auxiliary troops began to panic, and the regular troops were also affected.

"My lord, the enemy cavalry has begun their charge!"

Vorgal, who was whipping his men and shouting, turned his gaze to the twenty-eight knights. Cold sweat poured down his forehead, but he still comforted himself, saying, "They're only twenty-odd men. I have an army of over a thousand!"

The warhorses first ran, then accelerated, accelerated, and accelerated again. Finally, the charge of these twenty-eight knights reached an unbelievable speed, looking like a herd of rhinos galloping at the speed of light.

Vorgal watched helplessly as the heavy cavalry charged across the battlefield in the blink of an eye, like a giant hammer crashing into his own army. Amidst the flying limbs and blood, he was so shocked that he dropped his weapon.