The bandits on the hillside launched their second round of shooting, but this time it wasn't as organized as the first; scattered crossbow bolts flew everywhere, and coupled with the shock from the firearms, the hit rate was much lower than the first round.
Only a few hit the carriage; some were embedded in it, others bounced far away, and not a single one penetrated the carriage.
Augustus, inside the carriage, had already figured out the situation, using his right ear, which wasn't ringing, to determine that the crossbow bolts were all coming from the left side, and most of the Swiss Guard were also on the left, indicating the attackers were on the left.
Moreover, after two rounds of shooting, the Swiss Guard didn't seem to have suffered any casualties, while the enemy had already sustained considerable losses, making it clear that the attackers were no match in a direct confrontation.
If there were enemies on the right, they would have attacked by now; for them, the longer the delay, the more dangerous it became, and sending him away with the first volley was the best option.
So Augustus made a decisive move, jumping out of the carriage from the right side, and as he expected, the open field to the right of the road was empty.
If a crossbow, which struggled to penetrate one layer of carriage wood, could somehow shoot him dead through two layers, that would truly be a miracle.
Seeing Augustus jump out of the carriage, the Swiss Guard soldiers from both sides surrounded him, forming three layers deep around him.
At the same time, except for the soldiers whose firing direction was blocked by the carriage, the other soldiers did not slow down their actions in the slightest: placing the bullet into the muzzle, using a wooden mallet to ram the loading rod, pushing the bullet into the chamber, and firing.
This was the first time a flintlock gun was used in a real battlefield before him, and such an opportunity was rare, so Augustus observed with full concentration.
In the hands of the well-trained Swiss Guard, the reloading speed of the flintlock gun was already quite fast compared to other firearms of the same era, capable of firing about twice a minute, and in terms of rate of fire, it was no longer much inferior to the heavy crossbows on the opposite side.
Of course, this was greatly influenced by training level and military professionalism.
If the opponents were soldiers who were well-trained, battle-hardened, and skilled in using heavy crossbows, and they had the advantage of time and terrain, they could at least stably suppress the firearms in terms of rate of fire.
In terms of hit rate, there was no need to brave the hail of bullets to count the crossbow bolts and bullet holes on the carriage to know that the flintlock gun was clearly superior.
At this distance, with such a large carriage, the enemy didn't hit much; hitting a person was basically left to chance.
However, this was also largely influenced by the quality of the soldiers, so its reference value was not great.
Lethality, this was still quite worth referencing, after all, the power of both the flintlock gun and the heavy crossbow would not be greatly affected by the user's skill level.
Clearly, the lethality of the flintlock gun was far superior to that of the heavy crossbow; the Swiss Guard soldiers here had not yet suffered any casualties, while the other side was already wailing.
It would have been even better if the other side also had plate armor of the same quality.
"I need to accelerate the process of equipping the army with flintlock guns when I return," Augustus thought to himself.
Suddenly, a crossbow bolt struck the plate armor of a Swiss Guard soldier standing in front of the carriage, deflected by the patterns on the armor, flew past Augustus, and then hit the face of a soldier next to him, accompanied by a muffled grunt, and a bloody mark appeared on the soldier's face.
"It's Gun-Fu!" Augustus, after being startled into a cold sweat, had a momentary brain cramp and blurted out that term, then awkwardly touched his forehead, confirming he didn't have a fever.
Seeing the injured soldier, despite the blood still flowing from his face, stood firm in front of him, Augustus was greatly moved.
"Are you alright?" Augustus asked with concern, while taking out a piece of paper and gently wiping the blood from his face.
The soldier, who had remained completely still despite being injured, now retreated slightly.
"Your Holiness, I am fine."
"Good! Just hold on a little longer, and we'll send you to get your wound treated after the battle is over.
If you need to rest, tell me immediately, don't force yourself."
"This minor injury is no big deal to me, no need for treatment," the soldier declined.
"I'll arrange these things, you don't need to worry about it."
Augustus knew that when this battle ended, other soldiers would surely be injured, he just hoped that no one from his side would die.
Augustus suddenly wondered if he could face a truly large-scale war.
After several rounds of shooting, more than half of the attackers on the hillside were dead or wounded; witnessing their companions die one after another, some killed instantly and disfigured, others severely wounded, lying on the ground with blood gushing out and letting out heart-wrenching screams, then dying in agony, their morale was on the verge of collapse.
Such powerful weapons were something they had never seen, and such a scene was something they had never experienced, to the point that some, though unharmed, also began to wail uncontrollably out of fear.
At the same time, the Swiss Guard also had a few wounded; some had suffered too great an impact, causing their plate armor to deform, while others were hit by stray arrows in areas not protected by their plate armor, but fortunately, there were no fatalities.
Furthermore, with the professionalism of the Swiss Guard, they would not shout and scream just because they were injured; their morale remained completely unaffected, as such a battle was just a minor skirmish to them.
Seeing the time was ripe, Dracula ordered: "Everyone except those protecting the Pope and the wounded, form ranks, advance! Continue firing, prepare for close combat!"
Augustus nodded approvingly; if they had charged directly into the enemy's fire just now, even if they reached them, the casualties would certainly not have been small, so using firepower suppression was the right move.
And now that they had seized the initiative on the battlefield, charging forward to encircle and capture prisoners was also the correct approach.
It was strange, however, that this group of people fought an ambush like a skirmish, choosing such an isolated ambush point, and still got beaten like this, clearly having no understanding of his guard's equipment.
He wondered which fool dared to hire such unreliable people to kill him.
But it was also understandable; those with more numbers than the Swiss Guard would be too inconvenient to move.
As for those with superior individual combat capabilities to the Swiss Guard, they were hard to find in all of Europe, and even if their combat power was close, hiring them without attracting attention would be highly unlikely.
But why did they have to use this method? The possibility of assassinating him successfully would be greater than this.
Or was this just one part of a larger plan, with other "surprises" waiting for him further ahead?
Augustus shrugged, having a rough idea of what to do.
"Boss, stop fighting, let's retreat quickly.
They're charging up, if we keep fighting, our brothers will all die!" On the hillside, a skinny man covered in blood screamed hoarsely.
The burly leader roared with bloodshot eyes: "We've already lost so many men!
If this doesn't succeed now, it will all be for nothing, and there will never be another chance; they will all have died in vain, and we won't be able to take much of the equipment with us!
Then we will have nothing!"
He had never expected such a seemingly ordinary interception to turn into this.
"If we retreat now, we can still save our lives! Otherwise, we'll all be finished here!"
"Since everything is gone, what do I need this life for!" The burly man said, while shooting towards the carriage.
Just as the skinny man was about to speak again, there was a loud bang, accompanied by a burnt smell mixed with blood, and he could no longer utter a single word, then lost consciousness.