Bronn's horsewhip was a blur, and the warhorse, in pain, kicked up its hooves, sending splashes of water flying far and wide.
But he still thought the warhorse wasn't fast enough, wishing he could sprout wings and fly.
"Ser Clegane! Retreat! Ser Clegane! Retreat!"
Bronn shouted when he was still some distance from the Mountain's troops, but it was too late.
The Mountain stubbornly pushed forward, attacking against the surging water.
But such reckless behavior still got its deserved result.
From time to time, soldiers would slip, and both horse and rider would tumble head over heels.
Only a portion of the heavy cavalry reached Fisheaters Hill.
The caltrops scattered beforehand and the pointed spears temporarily stuck in the ground came into play,
coupled with Howland Reed's precise shooting, the cavalry around the Mountain quickly suffered casualties and lost much of their momentum because their warhorses hadn't been armored in time.
Jon's formation only swayed slightly.
The Mountain, unwilling, jabbed at Jon's line twice before choosing to retreat at Bronn's shouts!
The continuous charges had already exhausted the stamina of these heavily armored elites.
They were Tywin's 'precious darlings', and they had already excellently completed their mission; it was time to withdraw.
"I hope this dam breach was an accident, otherwise this opponent would be too terrifying."
Tyrion murmured, watching the cavalry that had already withdrawn.
At this moment, realizing they had successfully blocked the terrifying Mountain's attack, cheers erupted again from Jon's position, even more intense than the last time.
"Long live Jon! Long live the White Wolf!"
"Long live Jon! Long live the White Wolf!"
Through the bronze spyglass, Tyrion knew they were cheering, but he couldn't quite make out what they were cheering about.
Seeing Bronn return to his side, he quickly asked.
"It sounds like 'Long live Jon, Long live the White Wolf'…"
Plop!
Tyrion's spyglass actually dropped directly to the ground, or rather, into the water.
"Jon? Are you sure it's Jon?!"
Bronn looked at Tyrion with a hint of disdain, not understanding why he was so surprised.
Scenes of his time with Jon flashed through Tyrion's mind.
At that time, Jon was just an insecure and sensitive bastard.
Now he had actually become a commander who turned the tide?
Did Robb let him lead the army?
But how would the other Northern lords obey?
'No! Robb!' Tyrion suddenly shivered. If Robb wasn't here, where would he be?
Tyrion looked around, gazing worriedly to the west. He decided to go back and tell Tywin about his concerns.
At this moment, he suddenly realized that the surge of water had significantly weakened.
However, the ground beneath his feet had become terribly muddy, and he could even see fish flopping and struggling.
The Westerlands' offensive could no longer be sustained; it was time to retreat.
He believed that due to this Flood, the Northmen's losses were greatly reduced, and they should also know when to quit while they were ahead.
On the other side, at Jon's position.
"Retreat? Who said I was retreating?! Everyone, listen to my command! Counterattack!!!"
Jon said firmly, looking at the Mountain, who had already withdrawn from the battlefield.
The Flood had swept through, leaving the land muddy.
Now, the combat effectiveness of both cavalry and heavy armored troops was greatly weakened, and with his 'radar' fully open, it was the perfect time for him to wreak havoc.
Meanwhile, on the other side, in the Northern army that had already withdrawn, Roose Bolton also saw from afar that a stable defensive line seemed to have been established somewhere.
"My Lord, our army has withdrawn to a safe place."
Because of Jon's interception, Roose Bolton had more ample time to evacuate his army.
And more Northern soldiers escaped, at least two thousand more than in the original Battle of the Green Fork.
Many of them also knew why they were able to escape successfully, so they focused their attention on Jon, who was still engaged in fierce fighting behind them.
When a cavalry unit targeted Jon's hastily established defensive line, everyone's hearts pounded like startled rabbits.
When Jon's defensive line successfully repelled the attack of the House Shallot cavalry, they cheered loudly again.
Immediately after came the Mountain's attack and the arrival of the Flood.
Everyone believed from the bottom of their hearts that this was the gods' blessing.
But some also remembered Jon's proposal before the battle.
At the time, they only thought this bastard was being fanciful, but they didn't expect him to be right.
As for all this, Roose Bolton naturally saw it all.
His knuckles, gripping the bronze spyglass, turned white, and his already pale face grew even more grim.
Jon's journey from setting out, to resisting, and then to attacking, he witnessed it all.
But the problem was that none of it made sense!
His military education from a young age was that once an army was routed, one must 'cut off a limb to survive'.
Only by preserving as much strength as possible could one hope to win future battles.
And to throw all one's troops into a battle that was clearly about to be lost was the behavior of a novice.
He had assumed Jon throwing himself into the chaotic battlefield was like a man seeking death throwing himself into a raging river.
But he didn't expect him to actually carve out a bloody path!
With the Flood approaching, the Westerlands army couldn't achieve more results, and Jon's prestige soared because he saved so many soldiers' lives!
It was quite possible that he would use this momentum to contend with him for command of the army.
What was worse, Roose Bolton thought of a terrifying consequence.
Robb's strategic abilities displayed earlier in Winterfell, and now Jon's martial prowess and command ability.
With the two brothers united, the entire North would welcome a powerful liege lord.
This liege lord would oppress everyone, leaving them breathless.
Just like Tywin did to the Westerlands.
"My Lord, should we support Lord Jon?" At this moment, a nobleman, seemingly from House Umber, asked.
Seeing that it was a direct Stark house, Roose Bolton felt an inexplicable surge of anger.
"We just withdrew, Jon only saved some people on the battlefield and did not turn the tide. I am responsible for the entire Green Fork battlefield!" Roose Bolton replied in a low voice.
But his foul mood made his voice sound particularly cold.
The nobleman from House Umber turned his head to look at the distant battlefield and agreed with Roose Bolton's statement.
This river water must have been brought by Jon.
But river water doesn't distinguish between friend and foe.
The mud underfoot affected everyone.
Now, it was still best to retreat.
No matter what, Jon being able to save so many people on the battlefield was already a miracle!
But just then, a Bolton knight suddenly shouted:
"Gods! That bastard! That bastard, he's attacking!"
Roose Bolton suddenly turned his head and then raised his spyglass.
He watched with his own eyes as Jon, carrying his White Wolf banner, charged down the high slope, advancing towards the Westerlands army!
This guy was insane!
Everyone had only this one thought.
But how could they know that Jon had already imprinted every detail of the battlefield in his mind?
And it was dynamic, real-time information.
Jon, holding two swords, rode on horseback, controlling this army of remnants through cavalry messengers going back and forth.
And as soon as the White Wolf banner moved, it attracted the attention of the surrounding Westerlands soldiers.
Howland Reed, who had originally thought he might be able to look after Jon on the battlefield, had also given up thinking.
In the rapidly changing circumstances of the battlefield, they could only choose to trust the person who led them to survive.
Any judgment based on experience was useless.
And when the Westerlands army realized that this remnant Northern army was not only not fleeing but actually daring to counterattack, everyone felt a humiliated rage.
So this army in Jon's hands became a large magnet attracting the Westerlands army.
At least five or six Westerlands armies, flying different banners, rushed towards this remnant Northern army.
The Northern soldiers who had already withdrawn from the battlefield saw this scene, and expressions of regret appeared on their faces.
But soon they realized something seemed off.
Although they were also trudging through the mud, Jon and his men moved faster than the Westerlands armies!
Like a slippery loach, they easily slipped out of the encirclement from an unexpected angle.
Jon could clearly remember where the ground was relatively firm and where it was muddy and difficult to traverse.
"Escaped?"
Roose Bolton felt his mind was not working well enough, as if Jon had played a trick in front of him.
Soon, everyone discovered that this 'loach' seemed not content with merely escaping; he also wanted to bite back!
Jon saw an army composed of mountain clansmen and loudly commanded:
"Hear my command! Charge!!!"
Jon, holding two swords, led this remnant army, whose morale had begun to coalesce after two defenses, to launch a proactive attack.
And at this moment, Jon's commands had become something akin to a divine oracle in their eyes.
They had only one thought in their minds:
Follow him! Follow him!
Among them, the one who followed Jon most closely was Tormien.
Although this fellow wasn't very smart, he was very quick to execute commands on the battlefield.
Jon was the first to charge into the barbarian army, with Tormien right behind him.
As the vanguard, Jon first cut down a barbarian leader who had ears, still bleeding, hanging around his neck with one sword.
Then he thrust another sword into the chest of a Westerlands soldier who was mixed in with them.
The sword light flashed, dazzling the eyes.
Tormien was not bad either; as the saying goes, what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in strength.
His 'barbarian charge' was full of momentum at this time.
Soon, the soldiers behind Jon also caught up, and in just a few minutes, they routed this barbarian army.
Harrion, who had already been captured, had just coincidentally been thrown to this group of barbarians by the Mountain.
A House Karstark soldier recognized Harrion and quickly rescued him.
Harrion snatched a longsword from the soldier's hand and engaged in a battle as if venting his anger.
But not long after, Jon ordered a repositioning, but Harrion paid no attention.
Suddenly, the sharp whistle of a horsewhip cutting through the air sounded, and Harrion felt a burning sensation on his back.
"I said retreat! Didn't you hear me?!"
He turned his head to see the young man on horseback looking at him with a cold gaze.
Harrion dared not complain and rejoined the ranks.
Jon continued his counterattack, simply dividing the soldiers in his unit into groups.
The soldiers watched the banners in the hands of the messengers, and the messengers pricked up their ears, awaiting Jon's every command.
Seeing this army, like a loach, actually start biting, Tyrion was greatly surprised.
Is this… is this really Jon?
Although he couldn't see clearly, the young man charging at the very front was exactly the kind of person he had always wanted to be in his life.
After several successful attacks, Jon's remnant army seemed to possess some kind of repulsive force.
The armies that wanted to take them down all stopped in their tracks, some even beginning to retreat.
The Mountain wanted to return to the battlefield, but his warhorse's stamina no longer allowed it.
The once invincible Westerlands army actually experienced small-scale routs.
Jon led his men out of the mountain clansmen's wildling army, then consecutively defeated three or four more Westerlands armies.
If things continued like this, they might actually turn defeat into victory.
At this moment, the nobleman beside Roose Bolton advised again:
"My Lord, let us charge one more time!"