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Chapter 448: The Undead Army

Driesen was naturally mistaken. The Guards Corps' intercepting force numbered only 14,000 men, and they had been carefully avoiding villages the entire way, so no one had noticed them.

Even if a Prussian had discovered something amiss, by the time it was reported to him, the Guards Corps would have already been upon them.

Once Joseph learned of the large-scale Prussian troop movements, he knew they were undoubtedly heading for Ratibor. Given the Guards Corps' rapid marching speed, the ambush was virtually guaranteed to succeed.

This was the key advantage of the Besiege a Point to Strike at Reinforcements Tactic: 'I know you'll use a specific route for reinforcements, allowing me to target and attack those relief forces.'

Soon, a perfectly straight white Line Formation of infantry appeared in the Prussian soldiers' view, steadily advancing towards them, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of drums.

Driesen saw that only about seventy percent of his soldiers had completed their formation, but he had no choice but to order an immediate engagement.

Fortunately, the Hussars who had been scouting earlier reported that the French army numbered only slightly over 10,000. His Fiennes Corps, supplemented by two grenadier regiments, totaled nearly 9,000 men. Even with an unorganized formation, they should be able to hold out for two hours.

Once his main force was fully arrayed, he could launch a counterattack against the French with superior numbers—he had over 17,000 soldiers behind him!

The French drums grew steadily louder. In front of the Prussian Line Formation, Second Lieutenant Olive of the Royal Prussian Jäger Battalion crouched behind a clump of dry grass, his eyes fixed on a distant flag bearing the "Sword-Backed Dolphin" emblem. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the French Royal Guard Second Legion.

This rifle was an improved version of the M1741 Flintlock Musket. Its most distinguishing feature was its rifled barrel, which caused the bullets to spin, resulting in a straighter trajectory.

In an era when accuracy beyond 30 meters was largely a matter of faith for smoothbore muskets, this was undoubtedly a high-tech weapon. However, due to its high cost and difficult loading process, it was only issued to a small number of elite Jäger.

Olive was one of them.

He quickly picked out his target: the nearest drummer, who appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old and quite tall.

'Taking down this fellow will surely deal a severe blow to the morale of those Frenchmen behind him,' he thought.

He licked his lips, squinting as he aimed at the young drummer.

The distance was roughly 60 meters. Olive felt the gentle breeze beside him, confirmed it wouldn't significantly affect the shot, then decisively pulled the trigger.

It was a slightly long shot, but he had absolute confidence in his marksmanship.

With a sharp "Bang!", the strap holding the drum to the drummer's chest snapped. The drummer reeled back as if struck by a hammer, then toppled backward.

Second Lieutenant Olive whistled triumphantly, stood up, drew his ramrod, and poked at the ashes in the barrel. He then poured a small amount of powder into the firing chamber, closed the cover plate, raised the rifle vertically, poured in the main charge of powder, tamped it down, and finally inserted a bullet.

Next, he reached behind him for a small hammer and began to forcefully tap the ramrod. This was a common drawback of rifles: because the bullet's diameter was slightly larger than the muzzle, a hammer was needed to force the projectile down the barrel.

However, after only two taps, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye: the drummer he had just shot was struggling to his feet!

"Oh, God!" Olive's eyes widened instantly. "What happened?!"

He was certain he had hit the man directly in the chest; the snapped drum strap was proof.

Yet, at that moment, there wasn't a single spot of blood on the drummer's chest—blood would have been starkly visible on the white French uniform—and the man simply bent down, re-fastened his drum strap, pulled out a spare drumstick, and quickly rejoined the Line Formation, resuming his drumming.

Olive glanced at the rifle in his hand with a puzzled expression, then gritted his teeth and hammered the bullet all the way down. He raised his rifle and aimed again.

This time, the drummer was obscured by a nearby officer, so he decided to aim for the French Lieutenant instead.

Flames erupted from the M1741's muzzle. The officer staggered, then toppled sideways to the ground, but less than three seconds later, he stood back up with the help of a few soldiers.

"Impossible! This is absolutely impossible..."

Olive stumbled back a few steps in disarray, giving up his remaining shot, and turned to flee.

The Prussian Jäger around him also began firing in succession, but with the exception of one who accidentally struck an opposing soldier in the neck, every other target that was hit climbed back to its feet—at this time, Jäger doctrine dictated aiming for the enemy's chest and abdomen, as they presented larger targets.

The Prussian infantry watched in astonishment as the Jäger, panic-stricken as if they had seen ghosts, retreated behind their lines.

However, they soon understood why, because they too encountered the same phenomenon.

When the French Line Formation advanced to within about 40 meters, the officers gave the order for a volley.

With a crackle of gunfire, black gunpowder smoke obscured the battlefield, and nearly a hundred French soldiers tumbled to the ground.

But soon, through the smoke, the Prussian soldiers vaguely saw most of the fallen Frenchmen leaning on their rifles and standing back up.

The Prussians immediately To Look at Each Other in Dismay; their enemies clearly weren't wearing Cuirass or similar armor, yet bullets simply couldn't kill them.

Chaos began to spread through the already wavering Prussian Line Formation. Some soldiers even forgot to reload, instead making the sign of the cross and praying.

Davout watched his own orderly grimace as he stood up, equally incredulous. Although the General Staff Headquarters had repeatedly claimed that the Bulletproof Inserts could withstand musket fire, he had always harbored doubts about such thin pieces of material.

The orderly pressed his abdomen, pulled out the insert from beneath his uniform, and then lifted his clothing.

Davout immediately saw a large, dark bruise on his stomach, but clearly, the bullet had been stopped. He then looked at the insert on the ground, which was covered in spiderweb-like cracks and showed a distinct bulge on its reverse side.

The drumming nearby suddenly quickened, and years of training instinctively made Davout turn and command his soldiers:

"Halt advance.

"Ready—

"...

"Fire!"

Thousands of Percussion Cap Muskets spat flames almost simultaneously, instantly tearing gaping holes in the Prussian Line Formation.

For a moment, many Prussian soldiers turned to look at their fallen comrades, as if expecting them to also rise again.

However, apart from blood and cries of agony, no miracle occurred.

The Guards Corps quickly delivered a second volley.

This time, apart from the two Prussian grenadier regiments, the remaining soldiers turned and fled in terror.

The elite Prussian Guard infantry collapsed after the enemy's second volley!

Anyone facing seemingly unkillable enemies while their own numbers were being decimated would find it difficult to maintain the courage to continue fighting.