As the massive wave of Tang imperial halberdiers flooded through the breached outer palisades, Ragnar stood atop the inner keep's parapet.
"Redirect the First Grenadier Battalion to the eastern catwalks!"
Thousands of charging Tang halberdiers crashed into the seeded minefield. Because Ragnar's foundries could mass-produce these iron caltrops by the tens of thousands, the mud was practically paved with them.
Warriors screamed, tumbling forward into the dirt, only to have their knees, hands, and chests impaled by dozens of additional hidden spikes.
The Pinglu Vanguard's charge was instantly transformed into a writhing carpet of crippled men. The density of the Tang formation became their ultimate downfall; those in the rear continued to push forward, violently shoving their own comrades directly onto the iron thorns.
Ragnar raised his hand. The trap had been successfully sprung... It was time to harvest.
