That's not how you use a witch!

Chapter 72: It's not the cannon's fault, it's my fault.

Near the outskirts of Thorn Ridge lies the militia's firing range.

"You actually built a rifle with a larger caliber... uh, no, I should call it a cannon?"

Looking at the behemoth before him, Chief Knight Bart gaped. Unlike the enlarged rifle he had imagined, this thing, which Ronan named the Type 1736 field gun, was completely different from a rifle except for its cannon barrel.

Of course, this is related to the way it is operated, just as crossbows and heavy winch crossbows look different.

Based on his combat instincts and years of experience, Bart quickly realized that if muskets were the superior form of crossbows, then the field artillery before him was the superior form of heavy crossbows.

But is this thing really that different from a catapult? If you just imagine it, the two seem to have the same effect.

In Barth’s view, the loud noise or thick smoke that the cannon might produce was actually a disadvantage, as it would attract the enemy’s attention and allow the enemy to concentrate their fire on this cumbersome machine.

And it was obviously much more difficult to build than a catapult.

"Sir, it's too clumsy."

Seeing three or four militiamen work together to push the field gun to its designated position, Bart shook his head repeatedly: "If it were this slow on the battlefield, I could destroy this machine five times over."

Ronan nodded: "That's right, flexibility is indeed its weakness. So in battle, it needs to be deployed in advance and must maintain distance from the enemy's main force. If necessary, infantry should also be deployed for cover."

Bart frowned slightly: "This will undoubtedly delay the battle..."

"unimportant."

Ronan smiled slightly, raising the corners of his mouth, "Because the moment it appears, the battle will be over."

Then, under Ronan's guidance, the militiamen in charge of the demonstration lowered the support frame, adjusted the firing angle, and loaded the ammunition. Seeing the shell, almost the size of a human head, being pushed into the chamber, Bart gasped.

If I remember correctly, a rifle bullet the size of a thumb can penetrate layers of plate armor and chainmail...

"Bang!"

Then, all thoughts came to an abrupt halt with that breathtaking roar.

Bart saw a plume of smoke billowing from the cannon muzzle, and a blurry, swift shadow flew into the distance, which he couldn't make out even with his four-star knight's dynamic vision.

Even the swiftest of the evil beasts would be as slow as a snail compared to this...

Seconds later, everyone saw a large crater explode in the distant forest, with trees collapsing all around and thick smoke engulfing everything nearby.

"boom!!!"

Almost simultaneously, a deafening explosion rang out, as shocking as a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Although Ronan and the others had given prior notice, it was impossible not to be shocked when they witnessed this scene in person.

More than ten minutes later, the group arrived at the crater.

The very center of the explosion was charred black, and all the trees within a three-meter radius were snapped in half. Further away, countless branches and leaves were shaken down and broken, and several birds could be seen lying on the ground, struggling.

If they had been hit directly, they would have been completely destroyed; these birds were undoubtedly killed by the shockwave.

"Oh my god..."

Having been immersed in aristocratic literature since childhood, Barthes, after a long silence, chose to express his feelings in the simplest way.

He suddenly understood why Ronan didn't care about the many shortcomings of field artillery.

When its power becomes strong enough, its problems cease to be its own problems and become other people's problems.

Not flexible enough? Then hire more people to pull them! Too vulnerable to ambushes? Then provide heavy protection!

As long as we fire the cannons, everything will be alright!

"So this 'individual soldier gun' is just a scaled-down version of a field gun?"

Looking at the little soldier next to the field gun, Bart couldn't help but laugh—compared to his "colleague" who had just shown off his skills, this weapon, named the Type 1736 individual gun, had a caliber of less than half.

For Barthes, who was already deeply entrenched in "caliber worship," artillery was clearly a weapon that could overshadow all other weaknesses; without power, everything else was meaningless. This man-portable gun made an unsatisfactory first impression on him.

But he soon discovered that his evaluation criteria did not apply to the "man-portable gun" in front of him: Ronan did not rush to demonstrate firing, but first demonstrated its excellent mobility.

At Ronan's command, militiaman Fermi, who was in charge of the demonstration, put away the stand and carried the man-portable gun on his back with the help of the straps. He then carried out short-distance sprints, outflanking maneuvers, and obstacle crossings in the mountains and forests.

The weight of a cannon had almost no impact on his agility, which greatly surprised Bart.

Then, when Ronan shouted "Ready," Fermi quickly set up the gun, aimed, and loaded the rounds, almost as fast as when he was operating the rifle a few days earlier.

"Bang!"

As Ronan gave the order to fire, flames erupted from the cannon muzzle, followed by a series of tearing sounds echoing through the forest.

Compared to the field artillery's range of over 2 kilometers, the man-portable gun's range of around 500 meters seems considerably inferior, but its suppressive power at this distance is terrifying:

Unlike field artillery shells, this man-portable gun uses a special type of exploding shell, which, simply put, concentrates many rifle bullets together. When it fires, the outer casing of the exploding shell is torn apart, and the small steel balls inside automatically scatter, indiscriminately covering a large area in front of it.

When the group observed the scene, they discovered that almost every tree had several steel balls embedded in its trunk. Ordinary crossbows could not produce such power even at close range.

This single-soldier cannon achieved what even a volley of arrows couldn't do with just one shot!

The militia representatives were thrilled: with such weapons, they were sure they could defeat the rebels.

"This is the weapon you and Little Mei'er concocted? It's terrifying..."

Li Yan couldn't help but gasp. "I bet even a level five evil beast would be half-dead if it were hit like that. If weapons like this became widespread, perhaps we wouldn't need witches anymore."

"No, quite the opposite. With such a weapon, the witch can truly unleash her full potential."

Ronan looked at Li Yan and said, "Speaking of which, I've been wanting you to cooperate with me on an experiment, but I'm not sure if it's appropriate."

"Ha, I'm fine."

Li Yan winked mischievously, "As long as your experiment is the kind that Madale doesn't mind~"

"Of course, because she'll be involved too."

"ha?"

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In the heart of the western border, on the south bank of the Motuo River.

The once-prosperous Rainbow Territory is now a scene of devastation: corpses, both inside and outside the city walls, lie piled high, belonging to both the Western Frontier Army and the rebels. Scattered weapons, banners, and fragments of armor are visible everywhere.

"Report! The rebels have retreated!"

Inside the main tent on the city wall, a disheveled messenger reported the day's battle situation to Henry.

Henry's expression was grave: So far, they have repelled three rebel attacks, but have also suffered considerable casualties.

Although the rebels had a higher casualty ratio, their losses were mostly cannon fodder, which could be replenished continuously from the conquered territories; while for the Western Frontier Army, every man lost was a real loss.

"I wonder if they've delivered the message..."

Henry sighed. "Inform the soldiers to prepare to retreat to Frost territory. The surrounding cities are also beginning to shrink; make sure not to leave the rebels any usable population, food, or weapons."

"My lord, this leaves us with absolutely no way out!"

Victor opened his mouth, "Once Frostland falls, we'll all have to..."

"If we don't do this, we'll just be picked off one by one by the rebels, and you won't live to see the fall of Frost."

Henry glanced at him. "Now we can only hope for Ronan's support. Or, if we're lucky, the war faction in the capital might persuade the king to send troops to the west—that might be a glimmer of hope if we can hold out until then."

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