Liu Qian only stayed in Crown Town for a day and a night, and quickly returned to the Central Hills with wildfire and a group of pyromancers.
The darkness before dawn was thickest, and both camps on the central hill were shrouded in a dead chill.
The highland fortress crouched on the top of the hill, and the stone walls glowed with a cold and hard sheen under the thin starlight.
There were only sporadic bonfires on the towers, and the figures of the sentinels moved sluggishly behind the stacks.
The mercenary camp behind the curtain wall was snoring.
During the day, they were nervous, afraid that Liu Qian would lead his army to attack the city.
And at night, these tired soldiers can rest for a while.
On the entire hill, there was only the rustling of the wind blowing through the dry grass, and the occasional barking of wild wolves in the distance.
In Liu Qian's rammed earth fortress position, the atmosphere was completely different.
There was no bonfire, no noise, only a kind of slaughter ready to go.
Three specially modified giant trebuchets reveal their writhing silhouettes.
Their throwing arms were thickened and reinforced, wrapped around thick ropes soaked in grease, and the winch system was strengthened to withstand the weight of conventional stone bullets.
The most important thing is the special device installed at the projection end.
No longer simple leather pockets, but multi-layered mesh pockets woven from tough rattan and thick canvas, lined with absorbent moss and cork chips, specially designed to wrap those wildfire clay pots.
The pyromances whispered at the trebuchet to direct the final preparations.
Groups of strictly selected soldiers, under the low command of the officers, slowly and steadily lifted down one special clay pot wrapped in thick straw and wet cloth one after another from the special transport rack at the rear.
When each clay pot was put into the net pocket, the people around him subconsciously wanted to retreat.
Liu Qian stood on the highest lookout of the rammed earth fortress, wearing a dark cloak, his eyes penetrating the darkness, firmly locking the outline of the highland fortress.
Chai Yi stood aside, breathing deliberately lightly.
"Loaded, Your Majesty!"
The pyromancer's voice came through the herald's whisper.
Liu Qian didn't look back, but raised his right hand slightly.
"Projecting the target and aiming at the curtain wall of the highland fortress."
His voice was not high, but it was clear to every commander's ears.
After a month or two of projection, the soldiers who operated the trebuchet had figured out various angles.
"The elevation angle is forty-five degrees, and the distance is —.— calibrated!"
"Calibrate!"
Orders were passed quickly.
The winch makes a "crunch" sound, the thick rope is slowly twisted, and the heavy weight block is lifted little by little to the limit height.
The huge throwing arm was like a strong bow that was pulled, full of strength, and the taut wooden structure let out an overwhelmed groan.
The soldiers operating the trebuchet had sweat beads on their faces, but their eyes were staring at the calibrated ruler, not daring to make the slightest mistake.
Time passes minute by minute.
The eastern skyline began to glow with a faint white of fish belly, outlining the outline of the highland fortress more clearly.
On the fortress tower, a yawning Mir sentinel seemed to sense the unusual silence and faint mechanical sound on the opposite side, he rubbed his sleepy eyes and poked his head out suspiciously, trying to see the rammed earth fortress position in the dark.
At this moment—
"Let go!"
Liu Qian's right hand swung down suddenly.
Three dull loud noises tore apart the silence of dawn.
The huge throwing arm suddenly bounced off with thunderous momentum, and threw the clay pot wrapped in a special net pocket into the air.
The heavy clay pot drew three whistling parabolas in the air and rushed straight for the highland fortress.
"What is ——— that?!" "
The sentinels on the towers of the Highland Fortress finally saw the rapidly enlarging black dots, and the screams of terror pierced the tranquility of the fortress.
"Enemy attack! Trebuchet!! "
A mournful siren sounded throughout the fortress.
The sleeping mercenary camp and slave barracks were instantly awakened, and the sounds of curses, armor clashes, and panicked shouts rang out.
The mercenaries were indeed experienced veterans and reacted extremely quickly, and many grabbed their weapons and instinctively looked for cover or rushed to the stack entrances before they even had time to put on their armor.
However, there was more confusion and a hint of contempt in their hearts.
Trebuchet again?
Could it be that the oriental man still doesn't give up?
In the past month or two, those stone bullets have not been able to shake the strong fortress except for noise and some rubble.
Moreover, in order to prevent the trebuchet from shooting into the curtain wall and injuring the soldiers, they also hung several layers of net ropes over the castle to reduce the impact of the stones.
In addition, their camp was placed next to the wall to prevent them from being stoned.
Kovo, the commander of the Bright Regiment while roughly tying the belt of his breastplate, roared at the chaotic camp: "What are you panicking!
It's just some broken stones, prepare shields, archers go up the wall, if the group of oriental rats rushes over—"
His words came to an abrupt end.
Because those three "boulders" have already flown overhead.
"No—this thing—"
Dario Naharis of the Ravens was nimbly climbing the wooden tower, and his keen intuition sensed mortal danger.
Those that fly in the air don't look like stone bullets.
His pupils reflected the dark green floating in countless clay pots, and he shrank slightly.
"Get out of the way! Find solid cover!! "
He shouted a warning, but his voice was instantly drowned out in even greater chaos.
The first clay pot was slammed into the lookout at the top of the main fortress tower.
The impact was not hard shattering, but the muffled sound of a clay pot breaking and liquid splattering.
Immediately afterwards, the top of the tower was watered with a viscous emerald liquid, which splashed violently in a radial shape, flowing out those viscous green liquids, attached to the cold stone walls, wooden beams, and soldiers who were caught off guard, slowly flowing and spreading, flashing with ominous glows.
There was a strange dead silence on the entire battlefield for a moment.
On the highland fortress, the soldiers who were splashed looked at the viscous and shiny green liquid on their bodies in horror, thinking it was some kind of poison, and they were so frightened that they desperately wiped it with their hands, but they wiped more and more, screaming in horror.
But they soon discovered that apart from the cold, sticky and foul smell, the liquid did not seem to be poisonous.
The chaotic mercenary camp below was also stunned.
"Hahaha!"
Gruer, the leader of the Iron Shield Regiment, was stunned for a moment, and then let out a rough laugh like the rest of his life.
"Look at you timid guys, these Orientals are clearly pretending."
The second son's Mei Luo also breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and then regained his mocking face: "I'll just say it, the oriental wizard who pretends to be a ghost—"
They smiled disdainfully at the green liquids, thinking that Liu Qianqian was playing a trick on them.
Dario of the Ravens came over, wiped a little green liquid with his fingers, and snorted with his nose, which smelled bad.
He frowned, and the liquids gave him a familiar feeling, as if he had seen them somewhere.