At 10:00 AM, the latest frontline battle report was sent back to the Yan Army camp.
"Your Majesty, apart from the north and south flanks, our main force has now also stormed the mountain pass, and the enemy's defenses have been completely crushed by our army!" said the communications soldier who had just returned to the camp.
Upon hearing this, Qin Ze, sitting in his chair, rubbed his forehead with his hand, not showing much excitement. With the rear harassment from the surprise attack force and the combined attack from the north and south flanks, the Golts' frontal defense had lasted until now before being completely breached, which far exceeded his expectations.
Logically, with their flanks breached, the Goths' defensive system had collapsed, and they should have suffered a complete defeat long ago.
Even so, the Goths, who were guarding the front of the pass, refused to give an inch and dragged the time out until now. It was precisely for this reason that they had to pay more casualties.
In fact, the number of troops lost in this battle around the pass far exceeded that of any previous battle Qin Ze had fought.
Thinking of this, Qin Ze rubbed his tired face, then looked up and asked:
Are those Golts still resisting?
"Your Majesty, our army is rapidly capturing several sections of the pass, but the enemy is still putting up a stubborn resistance, and we have not seen any signs of them fleeing."
"It will take a little longer to end the battle."
Upon hearing this, Qin Ze shook his head and sighed, "Rare indeed..."
"Defeat was inevitable, yet they continued to resist. Was it foolishness, or...?"
At this point, he changed the subject and said in a deep voice, "It's good that they didn't flee; it's perfect for wiping them all out in one fell swoop. Keep fighting and annihilate them all!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Qin Ze sat up from his chair and looked out at the mountain pass. It was still snowing, and it seemed to be getting heavier. The towering, sharp peak was covered in a blanket of white.
——
Snowflakes fluttered down and fell on the mountain pass.
Gunfire echoed in the air, and countless corpses lay scattered on the muddy ground, most of them Goths. Since the pass was completely breached, they had lost their terrain advantage and were stripped of almost 80% of their fighting capacity.
At this moment, the Golt soldiers who were still fighting had basically reached their limit. This was partly due to physical exhaustion, as most of them had been fighting intermittently for more than ten hours. Even if they still had ammunition, they had to grit their teeth to reload and change ammunition.
Furthermore, the psychological defenses of the Golt soldiers had collapsed along with the fall of the pass. Having lost their terrain advantage, their weapons and manpower were completely unable to compete with the attacking Yan army. Thus, at this moment, the battle had become one-sided.
The battlefield was no longer filled with the initial passionate roars. The long fighting and psychological breakdown had turned the Golt soldiers into almost walking corpses.
They numbly repeated the shooting motions, not even bothering to dodge the incoming bullets. They lacked the stamina, and dodging was pointless; the Yanbing's skirmish tactics had a huge advantage in ordinary terrain, and they were simply unable to stop them.
Thus, in the mechanical and rigid, numb and dazed combat, the Götter soldiers almost appeared as if they were being shot in a line.
Rows of Golt soldiers fell to the ground amidst the sound of bullets, half of them dying on the spot without even a scream. They seemed to have been waiting for death to come, because after such fierce fighting, death was perhaps the most straightforward way out.
Despite the one-sided battle, the Golgar soldiers did not flee. This was partly because their superiors had repeatedly given them a death order. Before the battle even began, all the soldiers knew that what followed was a fight to the death, and that they would die on the battlefield, even if it meant dying in battle.
But this is only one aspect. Another reason is the ideology that soldiers have been instilled with over a long period of time, especially the "Iron Blood Legion," the most famous army in the Delt Federation. Even among all the armies of the Empire, this Sixth Army still enjoys an extraordinary reputation.
The soldiers of the First Army could always hold their chins high in front of soldiers from other legions and proudly say that we were the "heart of the Empire," and that as long as we were there, the Empire would continue to thrive.
However, this argument will not be accepted by everyone. There will always be people who disagree, feeling that their own legion is the most glorious, and that the First Legion is only glorious because it is born of the Emperor. But no one can deny the Sixth Army's title of "backbone of the Empire".
Because of the sacrifices made by the Sixth Army during the twelve years of the Empire's conquest, they were known for their fearlessness and courage in battle. As a result, in the difficult battles of the early days of the Empire, the Sixth Army always suffered the most casualties. They were always at the forefront of the battle. Even if the enemy was strong and skilled in battle and defeated them, they could always regroup and continue to participate in the battle. They never admitted defeat and would never disgrace the glory of the legion.
Thus, in this life-or-death moment, the sense of honor that permeated each individual influenced their will, leading them to unanimously fulfill this final duty.
At this moment, Dylan Schäfer, the supreme commander of the Sixth Army, also personally participated in the Sixth Army's last battle, just like an ordinary soldier.
Behind a bunker, Dylan Schäfer was nervously loading bullets into his familiar musket. He had done this countless times before, but as a commander, he had become quite rusty, and thus appeared somewhat clumsy at this moment.
Fortunately, his muscle memory was still intact. After reloading his bullets, Dylan spotted a Flame Soldier who had exposed himself and fired a shot.
After pulling the trigger, he immediately looked down and began reloading, without even checking whether he had completely killed the enemy soldier. He just wanted to load the next bullet as quickly as possible and fire it.
However, just as they were loading, several loud "bangs" were heard, and a cloud of dust rose from the bunker. Dylan's face froze, and his left hand suddenly fell to his side.
"Get down! Sir!" Hisso, the second-in-command, suddenly reached out and shoved Dylan to the ground. In an instant, several more bullet holes appeared on his back.
"Are you alright, sir?" Hisoka asked anxiously, lying on the ground.
"I'm not dead." Dylan, panting heavily, tried to raise his left hand, but the bullet pierced his elbow joint and tore his brachial muscle, making it impossible for him to control his left hand. His forearm hung limply down.
"How are you?" Dylan asked, enduring the pain.
"I...I'm fine." Hisoka frantically crawled on the ground, feeling around to make sure he hadn't been shot.
"Then shoot quickly and eliminate the bastards who are shooting at us." Dylan gritted his teeth, struggling to move his body on the ground, trying to pick up the guns next to the corpses around him.
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