Our Family Has Fallen

The Three-stage Firing is a common tactic in the Musket Array, providing continuous fire under the operation of skilled gunners.

But it also depends on making adjustments according to the situation on the ground. Basically, there are several types.

One is that the first row just shoots, and the ones behind only reload. This was used in previous battles because many recruits struggled to reload individually when facing the enemy, necessitating this approach.

It is also suitable for holding positions since the guns move but people do not.

As for the second type of Three-stage Firing, it actually only has two columns. When the first column finishes shooting, it runs behind the third column to reload, and the second column finishes shooting and runs back behind the first column.

It’s called Three-stage Firing, but the ”three” is a virtual number, indicating several teams alternating in shooting.

The actual situation changes according to the battlefield environment; it could be two teams, or four, five, or six teams.

At first glance, the formation of those two hundred or so people was Three-stage Firing, but none of it suited the current situation.

Because the first round of shooting was blocked mostly by the shields held by those Personal Guards, indicating that they need to be brought closer to penetrate the enemy’s armor.

Then concentrate the firepower!

”Reload behind the first column, let them come closer for a round of volley fire.”

The commander of those musketeers is not slow; battlefield conditions are ever-changing, and one must adapt the tactics accordingly.

This highlights the importance of grassroots command. Likewise, Lance wouldn’t make the foolish move of advancing the Musket Array twenty yards.

In fact, after the first round of shooting, the gunners had orderly retreated to reload without needing instructions, while the second and third set their guns but didn’t recklessly continue firing.

Those Personal Guards didn’t know why there was no shooting from the opposite side, but they could only charge forward.

They are now trapped beasts, with no choice but to carve a bloody path.

Similarly, during this gap, the Crossbowmen among the Personal Guards who had shot a round earlier had finished loading, ready to continue weakening the enemy with their shots.

One Crossbowman just set up his crossbow machine, but the next second, the wild sound of gunfire echoed from the roadside, and the Crossbowman froze for a moment before reacting, looking down to see his chest stained blood red.

He quickly felt his strength drain, his body becoming cold, and he uncontrollably staggered and fell.

It wasn’t just him; the surrounding gunfire was sparse, but almost every shot saw a Crossbowman fall, some accidentally triggering the crossbow machine, sending arrows into the backs of their comrades.

That person probably thought until death that it was the enemy gunner, unaware it was actually a friendly strike.

”The Lord has said, the impact of the sharpshooter usually depends on the value of the target; we cannot waste ammunition on ordinary people, those high-threat enemies are our primary targets.”

Barrett casually scratched a mark on the rifle with his fingernail, then began reloading while continuously introducing Hamlet’s sharpshooters to Margaret.

Many sharpshooters were ambushed nearby, their leave canceled and integrated to specifically target high-threat enemies.

Others found opportunities to shoot freely, but Barrett had to bring Margaret along.

He didn’t understand why the Lord instructed him to bring her, but he tried to follow the Lord’s order.

At this moment, Margaret looked at the battle scene without her prior longing for executing justice.

Intense screams and wails, bullets repeatedly tearing through flesh, even breaking hands and feet, blood splattering, and a dense stench emanating.

This scene shattered her filter for war; justice seemed absent from this...

As Barrett finished loading, he raised his musket once more.

”Because pursuing stable kills on the battlefield, we usually won’t risk aiming for the head as the shooting surface is too small, any mistake brings trouble, so we typically aim for the torso.”

As his words fell, Margaret saw another Crossbowman in the distance shot, though this time it was a headshot.

This meaning was undisguised.

It’s not that the head can’t be hit, but that aiming at the torso is more cost-effective.

This show-off, indicating dissatisfaction with the previous competition, appears illogical for a cool-headed sharpshooter.

If Goddess of Fortune won’t stand on our side, then shoot through her!

Indeed, geniuses have pride and won’t easily admit defeat.

Yet Margaret didn’t feel much, her attention drawn to the corpses.

Her excellent vision let her see clearly that half of the skull was blown off, the brain inside churned into fragments by the lead bullet, seeing for the first time that the brain was originally pale pink but quickly dyed red by blood.

Not everyone is like Lance, a born killer who could kill thirty or so people without reaction, treating the world like a game.

Even though Margaret was accustomed to animal corpses, she’d never hurt a person, let alone kill. Seeing such an impactful scene inevitably reminded her of those hunted prey she had eaten, causing her to suddenly feel nauseous.

She directly vomited uncontrollably.

”The Lord said that the battlefield is dynamic, the snipers should move similarly, and avoid exposing their position. After a few shots, relocate, or it could lead to enemy encirclement. One must be responsible for oneself before killing the enemy.”

As Barrett explained while reloading, he heard the commotion, turned to see Margaret like this, paused, and frowned.

”The battlefield is not a competition; you don’t belong here.”