Chapter 69 - 069

Over fifty people, an eighth—one can’t consider the loss to be small, but it isn’t too great either.In Richard’s view, only seven-eighths of the enemy remained, which was still sufficient to overpower Gro and his group. Once they decided to attack decisively, the result wouldn’t be much different from before.

The only possible difference might be morale.

Morale is crucial for an army, especially in the age of cold weapons, where it could almost determine everything. In the recent explosion, amidst the fear and misunderstanding of the unknown, the morale of the soldiers outside the camp had evidently suffered more than the numerical loss. If the previous morale was a hundred, now it was around fifty.

After all, the destructive power of firearms was almost devastating to soldiers in the age of cold weapons.

Moreover, if Richard hadn’t guessed wrong, the attacking soldiers and their leader likely knew that they were engaged in a rebellion—an illegal and highly pressured act.

If everything went smoothly, they might have been able to continue crazily due to a surge of hot blood or the lure of benefits. However, once they encountered failure, the craziness would turn into fear and dread, with morale rapidly decreasing, barely maintained, then shifting to a state of watchfulness and probing. At that moment, if they were struck again, it would become the last straw that broke the camel’s back, driving their morale to zero and causing them to collapse and flee.

This was akin to a chaotic army in modern Earth’s history. When the battles were favorable, their combat strength could outmatch anyone; they could directly defeat official armies through massacres, rapes, and loots. But once the battle turned against them, meeting elite official troops could lead to an immediate collapse, with a few hundred official soldiers capable of routing thousands from the chaotic army.

In that scenario…

Richard’s eyebrows raised as he saw the soldiers outside the camp had finished organizing and were preparing to make another probing attack. He turned and looked toward a noble.

“Bill Caesar… Sir,” Richard called.

“Ah? Me?” Bill Caesar, among the nobles, startled and looked at Richard warily, “What… what do you want to do now?”

“Help me with two things,” Richard said calmly. “One is to bring me the arrows I’ve made in the tent, and the other is to find me a better hand crossbow.”

“Ah? Why me?” Bill Caesar voiced out, reluctantly.

“Is that not possible?” Richard looked at him calmly.

“I…” In this moment, Bill Caesar felt as if he had been beautifully tumbling in bed with a lovely noble lady, about to achieve a grand harmony, only to suddenly realize that the beautiful noble lady was not a lady at all, but rather a silly, silly dog.

Why was it him again? This damn wizard, not only had he killed his horse and drawn his blood, now he even wanted to boss him around to fetch things. For what reason? Just because he was the only one among all the people here who hadn’t inherited a title? Could he be blamed for that, with his father who wouldn’t die and seemed healthy enough to even outlive him? He was helpless too.

Really!

This was already a very saddening matter, could they not bully him further?

Although Bill Caesar thought this, he didn’t dare to say it out loud. Seeing Richard’s calm yet utterly emotionless gaze, he couldn’t help but shiver and stuttered, “Eh… okay, I’ll go fetch them for you now.”

Bill Caesar quickly left. Watching his retreating figure, Richard couldn’t help reflecting: was he perhaps plucking the wool off a sheep too zealously? If that was indeed the case… then he might as well shear all the wool off.

Bill Caesar didn’t know Richard’s thoughts, or he might have jumped up and fought Richard desperately. However, since he was unaware, he eventually obediently brought back the items Richard wanted.

Richard nodded satisfactorily, picked up an arrow he had crafted, inserted it into a well-made hand crossbow, drew the bowstring, and turned to look outside the camp.

The soldiers outside the camp were preparing for an attack, but this time it wasn’t a cavalry charge, but rather a volley of arrows. After all, the sudden explosion had left everyone shaken, not wanting to experience it again. For safety reasons, it was better to stay at a distance and use bows and arrows.

Outside the camp, a person who appeared to be a leader was constantly shouting orders, directing the numerous soldiers to adjust their formation to ensure the effectiveness of the volley.

Richard’s eyes slightly narrowed as he raised his hand crossbow and aimed at the opposing force.

The next moment, he pulled the trigger.

“Whoosh!”

The arrow shot out like a dark streak, flying exceedingly fast, and hit precisely… a tree outside the camp.

“Thud,” the arrowhead penetrated the tree trunk, its tail still trembling.

He had missed!

Richard’s face was expressionless, showing no sign of embarrassment, and there was no fluctuation in his eyes, as if he had anticipated this outcome.

The reason for this was that he really had considered this outcome possible, or perhaps it was intentional.

In reality, legendary archers who could shoot through Yang with a hundred paces do exist, but archers who never miss a shot, hitting the target every single time, exist only in entertainment novels and films.

The reason is simple, due to the influence of external environment, equipment, and the physical condition of the shooter, shooting always involves some margin of error. The further the distance, the more complicated the environment, and the worse the physical condition, the larger the error.

Even on modern Earth, the most elite snipers, using the highest precision sniper rifles, cannot guarantee that the first bullet fired in a mission will hit the target one hundred percent of the time.

Generally speaking, during a mission, if a sniper needs to assemble a disassembled sniper rifle and then take a shot, or if they are using unfamiliar firearms, they must fire one or several test shots to adjust for any firearm errors before aiming at the target. Otherwise, the bullet might hit several meters away from the intended target.

After all… killing also has to be logical and scientific. It’s not just about wanting to kill; you can only succeed if you truly master the skill of killing, down to every detail.

Richard’s eyes flickered as he looked at the arrow shaft that had hit the tree trunk. Without turning his head, and still holding the hand crossbow in one hand, he simply reached out with the other hand and said, “Arrow!”

Reluctantly, Bill Caesar, who was holding several arrows, passed one to Richard.

Richard, without any fuss, quickly inserted the arrow into the hand crossbow, restrung it, and continued to aim at the leader outside the camp.

“Whoosh!”

The arrow flew out for the second time, turning into a dark streak, and then hit the same tree outside the camp once again.

Compared to the first arrow, this one was slightly lower.

“About a 5% error…” Richard muttered to himself, then called out, “Arrow!”

Bill Caesar quickly handed over another arrow, observing the effects of Richard’s shooting with some disdain in his heart: Even he could shoot better than that.

Richard ignored what Bill Caesar might have been thinking. He installed the third arrow into the hand crossbow, took a bit longer this time to aim, and then pulled the trigger, shooting once again.