——"Mounted Archery Mastery: You are proficient in mounted archery, no less than grassland horse archers, significantly boosting hit rate during mounted archery."
——"Resting Horse Arrow [Combat Skills]: You can proficiently deploy the Resting Horse Arrow technique during combat, quickly shooting while facing or backing the enemy."
——"Lance Charge [Combat Skill]: You masterfully grasp the combat technique of Lance Charge, allowing you to quickly launch offensive charges with a lance in battle."
The caravan guards suffered heavy casualties.
Almost all were injured, and the guard leader was seriously wounded and unsure if he could hold on.
"Dump all cargo, take essential supplies."
"Everyone travel light."
With a serious expression, Duncan led a grassland horse out of the small forest, looking at the guard leader before him as he pulled arrows and treated wounds, calmly saying, "We must move quickly, otherwise we might not make it."
The guard leader opened his eyes with difficulty, his voice rasping, "You mean they are..."
"Scouts!" Duncan said decisively, "At most a day before the enemy cavalry units arrive for battle."
A small troop of elite light cavalry penetrating behind enemy lines.
If they weren’t scouts, what were they?
Soon, large numbers of imperial remnants might retreat here, and the enemy’s cavalry aims to intercept them, wiping them out completely.
Duncan couldn’t determine the battlefield situation from limited information.
But from his experiences over the past two days, the imperial army seemed defeated, and disastrously so, possibly with all border provinces falling.
The empire’s territory was vast.
It encompassed the continent’s most fertile lands, at its peak spanning more than half the continental shelf, but such broad territory meant the empire’s control over border provinces significantly decreased, especially as it weakened with bloated and rigid administration, unclear on how long it would take to gather troops to reclaim lost lands.
This colossal empire was slowly disintegrating.
The Barbarian Race uprising, Barbarian Race invasion, the imperial legion already decayed, the glorious Eagle Banner mere decoration, the last semblance of battlefield morale upheld by Barbarian Race mercenaries.
"This empire is probably doomed!"
After a moment’s contemplation, Duncan said sharply, "Dump all cargo, everyone board the wagons, travel through the night, quickly escape the border, head north to the cities."
He then lowered his gaze to the guard leader before him.
He was the true decision-maker for the caravan.
If he didn’t agree, Duncan would travel alone, at most asking the mysterious witch if she wanted to join him.
However, doing so would reveal everything, the witch would certainly guess.
But in such a situation, better to lay cards on the table, and if all else fails, part ways.
Duncan was unrelated to them all, and what he had done was already the limit.
In war, individual strength was so insignificant.
He didn’t want to be drawn into conflict at this moment.
The guard leader hesitated for a moment, gritting his teeth, "Dump the cargo, everyone travel through the night."
This decisiveness unexpectedly made Duncan respect him.
War had arrived.
What must be abandoned should be abandoned; as long as they survived, they’d have opportunities to rise again; but if killed by chaotic troops, then there’d truly be nothing left.
In these times, massacres of towns and villages were as common as daily meals.
Since the other party had this determination, Duncan would travel with them a while longer.
Though now a lone rider, he could retreat at any moment should something happen, with his most important focus being to lay low until he achieved the strength of a Hundred-man Enemy before acting recklessly.
Given his current combat skill improvement speed, becoming a Hundred-man Enemy wasn’t too difficult.
If only he could master Supernatural Power!
...........