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墨書 Inktalez
John felt the surge of courage brought by his Soldier Profession, allowing him to quickly overcome his fear.
"Don't run! Pick up your spears, form a line, and plant the spearheads in the ground!"
The ones who had already fled ignored John's commands and laughed at him instead. They knew they didn't have to run fast; as long as they weren't the slowest, they wouldn't die. With so many orcs, it was unlikely they could kill them all—just outrunning their companions would suffice.
At that moment, John felt helpless and could only place his hopes on his Golden Finger template, as if it had heard the call of his heart. The surviving Militia obeyed John's command and halted their retreat, quickly forming a spear wall.
"Yes, set it up!"
John hurriedly picked up a spear from the ground and pulled the unresponsive Redman beside him, positioning themselves within the spear formation. Gripping the cold spear shaft, his lips cracked from the heat of the flames behind him, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead into his eyes—none dared to wipe them away, their gazes fixed intently on the approaching enemy.
Silence reigned in that moment; only death could bring salvation. The sound of charging footsteps grew closer—one hundred meters, fifty meters, twenty meters. As the spear was about to touch the head of a Wolf Mount, the enemy veered off, circling around the front of their formation.
Orcs may be foolish but they were not mindless; no one would charge directly into a wavering line of spears. They bypassed the spears to chase after the fleeing soldiers who had run too far.
Watching the orc figures shrink in the distance, everyone breathed a sigh of relief—at least for now, it wasn't their turn to die; they were still alive.
But John knew that the Militia under him would not be safe for long; the enemy would surely return. Once they did, two-legged humans could never outrun four-legged Wolf Mounts. Without other means, death was inevitable.
"Get moving! You all need to gather up the scattered weapons quickly! If those bastards come back, we won't stand a chance!"
"Everyone else follow me to the riverbank! Dig pits with a foot-wide depth against the riverbank—dig deep! This is our way to survive!"
"Don’t even think about running; no one can outrun a Wolf Mount or escape those beasts' noses!"
People are often blind to danger; when someone issued orders, others moved without thinking. Johnny, John's ever-faithful aide, led twenty or thirty men to gather scattered weapons.
John leaned against the river with no other tools and insufficient time to build any defensive structures like caltrops. He could only instruct others to use their spears as shovels to dig horse traps around the riverbank.
"Dig deeper! This might save our lives!"
As he heard the howls of wolves growing closer, everyone dug faster with their spears. At that moment, John wished he had two more pairs of hands.
"I'm back!"
The figures of Wolf Riders appeared as Johnny returned with his squad of Militia just in time. Each of the thirty men carried over a dozen weapons.
"Well done!" John praised eagerly.
Breathing heavily, Johnny said, "Boss, if it weren't for the tight schedule, I could pull out some armor, but it's just too tight to get off."
Ignoring what Johnny said, the boss hurriedly called everyone to work. They positioned all the soldiers in front of them, backs against the riverbank; their survival depended on this final stand.
"Ah, Boss, this is all valuable stuff from Wu Lan!" Everyone was puzzled. The militia had no idea about Johnny's plan. They understood that digging pits was meant to trip the enemy, but this made no sense at all.
Picking up a bundle of spears, Johnny began to drive them into the ground while explaining, "If we stand these spears upright, the Wolf Mount won't dare charge at us. If we lay them flat on the ground, the enemy will step on them and get injured; the cavalry won't be able to charge effectively."
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