When the first ranging shell fell, Lieutenant General Stepa Stepanović, commander of the Serbian Second Army, was not asleep.

Due to the unfavorable war situation, he had stayed awake for two consecutive nights. At this moment, he was facing a small mirror hung on the wooden wall, looking at the fever blisters emerging at the corner of his mouth.

For an army lieutenant general who had just turned sixty this year—although still at an age to strive hard—commanding an army of tens of thousands in combat was still an extremely energy-consuming job.

Ordinary people simply cannot imagine how much information a corps commander in combat must receive, and how many decisions affecting the life and death of the entire army must be made within a limited time.

This requires not only outstanding command abilities but is also a severe test of psychological endurance.

Continuous high-intensity mental labor, the exhaustion from traveling these past few days, coupled with staying up late tonight, were accelerating the depletion of Lieutenant General Stepanović’s little remaining health.

His eye sockets were deeply sunken, surrounded by livid traces of exhaustion.

His hair, usually combed meticulously, now appeared somewhat messy.

When the daytime combat situation was reported back to the Second Army headquarters, it actually completely shattered the "regional hegemon dream" of the Kingdom of Greater Serbia in this old general’s heart.

In previous clashes with the Austro-Hungarian army, the Serbian Army, fighting with a desperate, all-out attitude, indeed fought with style and confidence.

Relying on their tenacious fighting will and the advantage of being familiar with the terrain, they made the underestimating and rash Austro-Hungarian army suffer bitterly.

This was also why a blind optimism permeated the entire Coalition Command...

It was precisely the pathetic performance of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, a "traditional great power," that caused the Balkan nations to misjudge, leading the Serbians to briefly believe they already possessed the strength to dominate the Balkan Peninsula...

But the Saxon Fifth Army Group’s defensive counterattack today slapped Lieutenant General Stepanović hard in the face.

Only at this moment did the commander of the Second Army truly realize the terrifying nature of a major power’s regular army.

Compared to the troops of the Saxon Fifth Army Group the Second Army encountered today, those Austro-Hungarian soldiers they beat back retreating step by step last year were simply a bunch of farmers with rifles...

Moreover, besides the "hard power" the Saxons displayed on the frontal battle line, what worried Lieutenant General Stepanović the most was that unheard-of offensive tactic.

The opponent clearly possessed a highly mobile and extremely combat-capable elite unit, yet the Saxons didn’t follow traditional tactics by placing them in the most important frontal positions.

Instead, they sent this elite unit straight into the enemy’s rear to attack weak points...

This tactic left the Serbian officers, accustomed to early 20th-century army tactics, completely baffled.

Lieutenant General Stepanović also asked himself: if he had such a unit in his hands, he wouldn’t bear to throw them directly behind enemy lines. Instead, he would continue to use this elite unit as the core of the entire army’s attack on the front.

"This is no longer just a gap in hard power; our entire tactical philosophy is already starting to fall behind the opponent’s..."

While Lieutenant General Stepanović pondered these issues, his adjutant was also busy in this temporarily requisitioned farmhouse master bedroom.

He categorized and organized the documents on the campaign desk set up in the room, placing them into different kraft paper envelopes according to priority, preparing in advance for a rapid relocation tomorrow.

The sound of paper rustling was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

Having finished this, the adjutant looked at his superior’s exhausted back and couldn’t help but sigh.

"General, you should still take the time to lie down and rest for a bit."

The adjutant stepped forward and handed over a freshly poured glass of water.

"After daybreak tomorrow, we still need to support the First Army and help them break out. If you collapse, the impact will be a chain reaction..."

Lieutenant General Stepanović took the water glass but didn’t drink.

He walked to the window, looking at the pitch-black night outside.

"The situation over at the First Army is very unoptimistic. The Saxons didn’t try to hide anything; they just want to brazenly swallow the First Army... So this will absolutely be an unavoidable, bloody battle."

The old general rubbed his throbbing temples and was about to follow his adjutant’s advice, turning to head back to his cot.

Just the instant Stepanović turned around and prepared to unbutton his uniform...

"BOOM!"

A muffled, massive explosion detonated outside the farmstead, shaking the entire wooden building violently.

Dust fell rustling from the ceiling, landing on Lieutenant General Stepanović’s shoulders.

The oil lamp on the desk flickered, its glass chimney clinking sharply against surrounding objects.

This shell landed about eighty meters from the farmstead. The sudden explosion instantly shocked the two men in the room wide awake.

Lieutenant General Stepanović’s combat experience definitely ranked among the top in the entire Serbian Army.

In the previous two Balkan Wars, he had practically fought through every major battle, experiencing various complex combat situations...

But having a shell blasted near his command post late at night was still a first in his life.

At this moment, the two couldn’t care about anything else. Their first reaction was to grab their military caps and run out of the house.

The main building of this farmstead was entirely wooden, its walls merely pieced together from rough logs.

Let alone resisting bombardment from large-caliber howitzers, even heavy machine gun bullets could easily penetrate them.

And the commotion of that shelling just now was not small. Based on his experience, Lieutenant General Stepanović judged it was definitely a howitzer of at least 105mm caliber.

So staying in the house was absolutely a dead end.

The adjutant forcefully pushed open the heavy wooden door, and the cold outside air rushed in instantly. They had just rushed out into the spacious courtyard when an officer, his face full of panic, came up to meet them with several guards.

The officer reported loudly that the shell just now had landed in the open field to the north, and only one round had been fired.

Stepanović, the adjutant, and the officer exchanged glances. A chilling thought flashed simultaneously in their minds: This is an enemy ranging shell.

As long as the opponent fired two more ranging volleys to confirm the parameters, what followed would be a devastating barrage.

Stepanović immediately shouted orders at the top of his lungs, telling everyone to scatter and take cover immediately, while also sending someone to notify the people in the temporary telegraph room on the first floor of the wooden house to evacuate.

Before his words completely fell, that scalp-numbing shriek came from the sky again.

Immediately after, continuous, violent explosions erupted about thirty meters south of the farmstead.

The headquarters guard battalion was camped around the headquarters. Although this round of strikes didn’t directly hit the main headquarters building, a few shells landed not far from the guard battalion’s tents.

Shrapnel and blast waves instantly tore apart several tents on the edge.

Suddenly subjected to a night bombardment, the headquarters guard battalion immediately experienced the most feared occurrence during an army’s night encampment... camp panic broke out.

The sudden shelling threw the guard battalion soldiers into utter chaos. They rushed out of their tents and ran in all directions.

Most people only remembered to grab their rifles; many didn’t even have time to put on their uniforms and caps properly.

In the darkness, some tripped over their comrades, and some even blindly fired back.

Once the gunfire started, the already chaotic camp completely lost control.

Soldiers began firing indiscriminately within the camp, attempting to repel enemies that didn’t even exist.

Officers shouted loudly, trying to reorganize a defense line, but their voices were completely drowned out by the chaotic gunfire and yelling.

Screams and curses mixed together. And right amidst this extremely chaotic situation, the third round of shelling arrived on schedule.

In fact, after the second ranging volley was fired, the commander of the instruction unit’s artillery battalion already knew the target area was covered, based on the results transmitted from the observation balloon.

So after fine-tuning the firing data, the 105mm artillery battalion commenced fire for effect.

105mm high-explosive shells accurately blanketed the core area where the farmstead’s main building was located. Violent explosions merged into one, the dazzling flashes instantly illuminating the night sky.

The wooden farmstead building collapsed with a crash amidst the explosions, burning planks and debris flying everywhere.

Following that were four continuous rounds of uninterrupted fire coverage, plowing back and forth across this area.

The thick smoke and smell of scorched earth produced by the explosions filled the entire space.

The violent shockwaves uprooted the fences in the yard, smashing them fiercely into the open field in the distance. The Serbian soldiers who were running around wildly just a moment ago were mowed to the ground in swathes by the blast waves and shrapnel.

When the bombardment finally ceased, the surviving Serbian soldiers stumbled up, their ears ringing severely.

Before they even had time to check if they were injured, they saw a blinding red flare shoot into the sky, illuminating the surroundings with an eerie light.

And precisely in the red light of this flare, the surrounding firelight, and the permeating gunsmoke, distorted silhouettes holding weapons charged out.

The instruction unit soldiers didn’t roar as they charged. They merely pulled their triggers silently and efficiently, the dense staccato of submachine guns and light machine guns instantly echoing all around.

Operating in combat teams, they advanced providing alternating cover, gunning down every target exposed to their line of sight.

Accompanying the gunfire was the low roar of flamethrower fuel igniting.

Two pillars of extremely hot, orange-red fire, over twenty meters long, constantly drilled into the chaotic crowd of Serbian soldiers from the left and right.

The high temperature instantly ignited the soldiers’ clothing and hair, their screams completely drowned out by the dense gunfire and explosions.

The instruction unit soldiers didn’t even need to aim carefully; they just needed to point their muzzles at the figures darting about in the firelight and spray.

The soldiers of the Guard Reserve Infantry Regiment followed closely behind the instruction unit. Somewhat shocked, they used their weapons to mop up the remaining resistance, finally fully understanding the gap between themselves and the "Pro-bros."

Not every unit could be called the Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit.

The battle over at the Second Army headquarters essentially held no suspense.

After the opening volleys of 150mm (105mm) howitzers, the Serbian soldiers, including the headquarters guard battalion, essentially had their morale shattered.

They were just ordinary human soldiers, organized with extremely limited effectiveness based on outdated training methods. They simply couldn’t handle such a sudden and violent strike.

Although the world was not lacking in elite troops who could continue fighting under artillery barrages... it was clearly not these Serbians.

By the time Morin rode in the command truck, moving the regimental headquarters to this area, the attacking Saxon soldiers were already methodically sweeping the battlefield.

The truck slowly came to a stop at the edge of the still-smoking ruins.

Morin pushed open the door and jumped down, his military boots crunching softly on the scorched earth.

Kleist and the others followed closely. Escorted by the guard company, the group walked towards the ruins of the farmstead’s main building.

The surrounding soldiers held their weapons, carefully searching through the Serbian corpses. If they encountered an enemy still breathing, they decisively finished them off with a shot or a bayonet thrust.

A pungent smell of blood mixed with the burnt odor of wood permeated the air.

Several leading NCOs immediately snapped to attention and saluted upon seeing Morin approach.

However, halfway through raising their hands, realizing it was inappropriate, they lowered them again.

1st Battalion Commander Wolf, who had personally participated in the attack, also jogged quickly to Morin and reported the preliminary battle results.

The command post of the enemy’s Second Army had been completely wiped out. Many men of the headquarters guard battalion were killed in the chaos, and another batch ran away, so ultimately they only captured a little over a hundred Serbian soldiers.

Meanwhile, instruction unit soldiers sweeping the battlefield also found torn pieces of uniforms and severed limbs suspected to belong to high-ranking enemy officers not far from the farmstead’s main building.

However, due to the immense power of the explosions, the corpses were unrecognizable.

Wolf: "In short, the enemy Second Army commander’s status is currently unknown..."

Listening to Wolf’s report and looking at the smoldering ruins before him, Morin’s tone was very calm.

"Unknown means dead..."

Despite saying this, Morin still waved his hand, telling everyone to continue sweeping the battlefield carefully. Finding corpses for confirmation was best; at the very least, they could gather some valuable intelligence.

The soldiers of the instruction unit and the Guard Reserve Infantry Regiment immediately scattered, beginning deeper excavations into the ruins, constantly clearing away scorched planks and rubble with the entrenching tools they carried.

Not long after, the soldiers sweeping the battlefield actually did find something highly valuable in the ruins.

However, it wasn’t the intact corpse of the enemy commander, but rather the Serbians’ radio equipment dug out from beneath the wreckage of the main building.

The telegraph room of the Second Army’s communications battalion was set up on the first floor of the farmstead’s main building, where the corps commander and other senior officers resided.

When the house was collapsed by high-explosive shells, the telegraph operators and communications officers inside were perhaps still transmitting messages, so they didn’t run out immediately. Consequently, the ceiling of the telegraph room collapsed on them first.

Fortunately, yet unfortunately, several thick load-bearing wooden beams interlocked, happening to form a stable triangular structure.

Although this accidentally formed shelter failed to save the lives of these Serbians, it unexpectedly protected the radio equipment...

Hearing this news, Morin immediately called for the commander of the communications company, telling him to bring men to attempt repairing this radio and search for any potential codebooks.

Several technicians squeezed into the ruins, carefully brought the equipment out, and placed it on a relatively flat wooden board.

The inspection process didn’t last long. Soon, the communications company commander jogged over to Morin, bringing news that made his jaw drop.

Judging from the content on the remaining telegraph paper, the Serbians actually communicated using cleartext (unencrypted messages).

Furthermore, the communications company men rummaged through the ruins for quite a while, checking the pockets of the telegraph operators’ and communications officers’ corpses and every surrounding corner, but didn’t even see a shadow of a codebook.

"This is on the same level as sitting at the same table with the Tsarist Russian Army... But this does remind me; it seems we can try intercepting their telegrams later..."

This thought couldn’t help but flash through Morin’s mind.

In the memories of his past life, the Russian army at the Battle of Tannenberg suffered total annihilation precisely because they broadcasted in cleartext the entire time, having their "underwear seen right through" by the "Eastern Front duo of Ludendorff and Hindenburg"...

Morin had completely not expected the Serbian Army’s awareness regarding communications security to be this weak.

But thinking about how they didn’t even implement light discipline at night, he felt somewhat relieved.

While sighing in amazement, Morin mentally lowered the Serbian Army’s combat effectiveness down another tier, downgrading them from "NPC" to "trash."

As for the Austro-Hungarian Army... if they couldn’t even beat an opponent who communicated in cleartext, Morin felt it was already very difficult to view them as a regular army.

"By the way, Commander... this radio transmitter didn’t suffer too much physical damage..."

"Hmm?"

The communications company commander also told Morin that although the metal casing of this radio transmitter’s main body was somewhat dented, the internal core components remained intact.

They checked it; as long as they reconnected the power supply and re-erected the antenna that was blown off, it should be able to be put into use immediately.

Hearing this news, the corners of Morin’s mouth curled up slightly.

When the instruction unit’s artillery battalion bombarded the Second Army headquarters, the rumbling cannon fire traveled twenty-five kilometers to Novi Sad, aided by a nighttime temperature inversion layer.

This was the headquarters of the Serbian First Army Group, as well as the supply transfer center for the entire army group.

And the sudden sound of artillery at night also shattered the nighttime tranquility of this historic city.

Upon confirming the sound of bombardment came from the front lines, the Chief of Staff of the Kingdom of Greater Serbia’s First Army Group had no choice but to wake the napping Army Group Commander, Petar Bojović.

And upon hearing the situation reported by his Chief of Staff, Petar Bojović immediately realized the situation might be far more dangerous than the news relayed back in the afternoon.

The telegrams relayed back to the First Army Group headquarters this afternoon indicated:

Except for the Third Army, which fought back and forth with the Austro-Hungarian troops, the First and Second Armies facing the Saxons frontally had suffered severe defeats.

The First and Second Armies, which proactively launched the offensive, not only were forced to transition to defense shortly after the attack began, but the First Army was even at risk of being completely encircled.

Upon receiving this news, the Army Group headquarters’ thought at the time was that the enemy would cease attacking at night—this was also a stereotype unique to traditional armies.

Even Petar Bojović believed that as long as they held out through tonight, the Second Army could find a way to support the First Army tomorrow morning.

However, to be safe, he still dispatched the reserves he had on hand—three fortress garrison brigades—ordering them to force-march to the front lines during the night and arrive in position by daybreak to stabilize the situation.

Although Petar Bojović also knew that given the training level of the soldiers under his command... especially secondary units like fortress garrison brigades, a 25-kilometer night march was already an extremely difficult challenge for them.

But even so, he could only bite the bullet and push these reserves forward.

The latency of the frontline situation caused the First Army Group headquarters here to severely misjudge the battlefield situation, making them feel they could at least safely hold out through tonight.

It wasn’t until the sound of artillery just coming from the front lines that Petar Bojović and his Chief of Staff realized something was terribly wrong.

Because the Serbian army would absolutely not launch night attacks; they had not received systematic training in this regard.

So the only ones capable of launching a night attack at this point were the Saxons.

As for the Austro-Hungarian army... sorry, that was the first option he ruled out.

Petar Bojović draped his overcoat over his shoulders and walked briskly to the massive combat map.

"The First Army’s casualties during the day today have already exceeded 20%... The structural integrity of the main assault units within its two divisions has basically been crippled, and now they are also surrounded by the Saxons..."

The Chief of Staff nodded, sighed, and said:

"The Second Army’s situation isn’t much better. Although not surrounded, their daytime losses were not small either. Even waiting until daybreak to support the First Army will likely be quite difficult..."

"The frontal defensive and offensive capabilities of the Saxons are too fierce. In the reports sent back by the various units, the common point is that the opponent’s firepower is very fierce, and they adopt a very loose but very hard-to-break formation when attacking..."

The two stared at the map for a long time, turning their heads simultaneously, ready to speak.

Petar Bojović raised his hand, letting the Chief of Staff speak first.

The latter didn’t hold back at this point, but picked up his pointer and pointed to the Third Army’s location on the map.

"General, the only way now is to have the Third Army, the only one among the three corps with an advantage, coordinate with the cavalry division to attack the Saxons’ flank."

He drew an arrow on the map pointing straight at the ribs of the Saxon Fifth Army Group.

"This might relieve the siege on the other two corps..."

"Once the three fortress garrison brigades arrive, perhaps they can form a two-pronged pincer attack with the returning Third Army, which would more or less put some pressure on the Saxons."

Petar Bojović nodded. His Chief of Staff’s idea completely aligned with his own judgment.

The current situation had deteriorated to the point where they had to use all their chips, and must execute a risky maneuver.

A moment later, he slapped his hand heavily on the table.

"Do as you say. Send a telegram to the Third Army immediately. Order them to use the cover of night to disengage from the Austro-Hungarians and maneuver south at full speed."

Petar Bojović paused. He gritted his teeth, deciding to continue raising the stakes.

"Fuck... if they attack at night, I’ll attack at night too!"

"Send those mad dogs out."

The Chief of Staff was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood this Army Group Commander’s meaning, drawing a sharp breath.

The "mad dogs" Bojović referred to were a special unit directly subordinate to the Army Group... the Royal Army 0th Special Pioneer Regiment.

But in reality, other soldiers of the Serbian Army often used another name to describe this unit.

"Vukodlak" (Werewolf)