The Crown Prince finally couldn’t help but swear, which startled the surrounding staff officers.

In their impression, His Highness the Crown Prince, a man of gentle and refined demeanor, rarely used foul language in public.

After all, he had studied art in his youth, and as the Imperial Crown Prince, he had to maintain his image.

However, Chief of Staff Major General Knobelsdorff wasn’t too surprised. Because previously, during the Gallic campaign, when Morin was set up by certain people to "fight one against a thousand," His Highness Georg had also sworn.

Realizing his lapse in composure, Georg stopped. He grabbed a cup of a special energizing tonic from the table, prepared and bottled in advance by rear-echelon mages, and downed it in one gulp.

The icy liquid flowed down his throat, slightly suppressing the anger in his heart.

He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.

The Crown Prince knew very well that now was not the time to lose his temper.

The comprehensive combat effectiveness of his Fifth Army Group far exceeded that of the opposing Serbian forces... Even with the current unfavorable situation, if it came down to a head-to-head clash, he had absolute certainty of completely crushing the enemy.

But that didn’t mean he was willing to risk the entire Fifth Army Group on an unnecessary, messy battle.

...What if, precisely because of these pig-headed teammates, the entire battle situation "flipped over"?

Losing a battle was a small matter; if it affected the Empire’s subsequent strategy in the Balkan Peninsula...

He couldn’t bear the consequences, nor could the entire Saxon Empire.

If he had armored trains or armored airships at his disposal right now, he wouldn’t be so passive.

But the problem was the Austro-Hungarian Empire’s railway system made the Empire hesitant to send armored trains directly.

As for armored airships, there were no resupply bases for them within Austro-Hungarian territory.

Although the Air Force had already sent personnel to begin constructing forward bases with Austro-Hungarian assistance and prepared to deploy the newly tested armored airships to the Balkans, distant water cannot quench an immediate thirst...

After a brief moment of thought, Georg looked up again, his eyes having regained their calm and sharpness.

"Lord Schmidt... Contact the Austro-Hungarian Sixth Army immediately. In my name—the Saxon Crown Prince’s name, in the name of the Saxon Empire!"

"Tell them that during the pre-war conference in Vienna, their Chief of the General Staff, Field Marshal Conrad, personally promised that combat command on the front lines would be led by our Saxon side!"

The Crown Prince’s tone was firm, his expression stern as he stared at Major General Knobelsdorff:

"I don’t care what methods they use, even if they have to fill the gap with human lives, they must pin the Serbians down on the opposite bank of the Sava River! Even if they can’t stop them, they must hold them back desperately to delay their river crossing! This is an order!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" Major General Knobelsdorff nodded immediately. He had been wanting to do this for a long time.

"Additionally..."

The Crown Prince’s gaze returned to the map:

"Our own deployments also need adjusting... The remaining forces of the enemy First Army have surrendered, so we can draw a portion of our frontline attacking troops to reinforce our left flank... Those Austrians, in the end, cannot be relied upon."

"Yes, Your Highness... I have already ordered the 26th Infantry Division to begin turning."

"Excellent."

The Crown Prince nodded. Then, as if recalling something, he pointed to another fiercely contested area on the map.

"What is the situation with Colonel Morin... and his Kampfgruppe?"

"Your Highness, the ’Morin Kampfgruppe’ has successfully destroyed the enemy Second Army’s headquarters and is currently engaged in a sustained blocking action against the breakout attempts of two Serbian Second Army divisions."

Major General Knobelsdorff answered immediately:

"Major General Paul’s main force of the 4th Guard Reserve Infantry Division is rushing towards him at full speed, expected to arrive by noon, forming a pincer attack from front and rear."

Major General Knobelsdorff paused, then added:

"In addition to the 4th Guard Reserve Infantry Division, I have also ordered the nearest 27th Infantry Division to converge on that direction to ensure nothing goes wrong."

"Well done, Lord Schmidt... We must consume these two divisions as quickly as possible before we can free our hands to deal with threats from other directions."

The Crown Prince expressed approval of the Chief of Staff’s arrangements. His eyes hadn’t left the map, his finger moving slowly over it, finally stopping on the massive gap on the left flank.

"Hurry and establish defensive positions on the left flank, prepare for defensive counterattacks."

"Simultaneously, pay close attention to the impact of the routed Austro-Hungarian friendly forces from the right flank... Order all units that these routed troops must be intercepted and reorganized. We absolutely cannot let them disrupt our formations and trigger a chain reaction!"

At this point, the Crown Prince paused.

He lowered his head, hands resting on the table. Major General Knobelsdorff could see his fists clenching slightly, as if making an extremely difficult decision.

The command post fell into dead silence. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the Crown Prince’s next order.

A moment later, Georg raised his head again, his eyes exceptionally resolute, even carrying a hint of ruthlessness.

"Schmidt von Knobelsdorff..." This time, he called his Chief of Staff by his full name.

"Present, Your Highness."

Realizing something, Major General Knobelsdorff stood up straight.

"I authorize the frontline troops, in the process of gathering routed Austro-Hungarian friendly forces, if they encounter any who disobey orders, charge our lines, or incite desertion, they may, when necessary... employ all means."

"All means?"

Major General Knobelsdorff was taken aback. He naturally understood what "all means" implied.

"Your Highness, this... won’t this affect our relationship with Vienna? After all, they are our allies..."

"We can’t worry about that now!"

Georg interrupted him directly, stating firmly:

"Lord Schmidt, do not try to persuade me now... Any subsequent diplomatic trouble, any political consequences, will be borne by me, the chief military commander!"

"But right now, we must stabilize the battle line at all costs. We absolutely cannot let a massive rout happen to us!"

Seeing the unquestionable look in the Crown Prince’s eyes, Major General Knobelsdorff felt a chill in his heart.

He knew that this heir apparent, who had always been questioned by the outside world for being too merciful, had truly hardened his heart this time.

"I understand, Your Highness."

He nodded solemnly, then turned and led the other staff officers away briskly to arrange for these extraordinary orders.

Only Georg remained in the private room of the temporary command post.

He sat back in his chair wearily, his gaze passing through the obstacles before him, looking southeast.

He seemed to cross the distance of dozens of kilometers to see the positions where Morin and his instruction unit were fighting a bloody battle.

For whatever reason, the Crown Prince’s originally worry-filled eyes gradually became resolute.

Meanwhile, on a plain about 40 kilometers southeast of the Saxon Fifth Army Group’s headquarters, the defense line of the "Morin Kampfgruppe" was undergoing an unprecedented test.

The remaining two divisions of the Serbian Second Army, realizing they might have become isolated, began attempting to break out with extreme frenzy.

Like a tide, they crashed wave after wave against the defense line constructed by the instruction unit and the 12th Guard Reserve Infantry Regiment.

The main assault force responsible for the earlier raid on the Second Army headquarters, after completing mopping-up and prisoner screening tasks, had also been immediately dispatched by Morin to the defense line, reinforcing various key defensive nodes.

At this moment, almost all combat personnel from the two fully staffed infantry regiments under Morin’s command were deployed along this short but crucial defense line, holding multiple key transportation routes.

Morin himself, leading the 1st Company of the 1st Battalion of the instruction unit, along with the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment, acted as the general reserve, positioned in the center of the entire defense line.

Like a calm chess player, ready to deploy his mobile forces to the most dangerous squares on the board at any time.

His command truck was parked in an inconspicuous small grove. A temporarily erected high antenna nearby continuously received and sent battle reports and orders from all directions.

Morin sat in a camp chair outside the truck, one hand resting on the double-barreled shotgun Cecilia had given him, his eyes burning brightly as he looked at the distant defense line.

Standing not far behind him, Klaus couldn’t help but clench his right hand into a fist upon seeing his back.

"Finally back, this is the feeling..."

The main position of the instruction unit’s 2nd Battalion had been chosen by Battalion Commander Jonathan on a gentle slope about 150 meters to the side of a dirt road.

The field of vision here was wide open, highly suitable for maximizing the instruction unit’s firepower advantage.

And the 1st Battalion of the 12th Guard Reserve Infantry Regiment, coordinating with his battalion, had constructed another position on the other side of the road, utilizing a slightly elevated piece of ground.

The positions of the two sides flanked the left and right. All lines of fire angled towards the dirt road in the middle—the inevitable path for a breakout—forming a textbook-perfect "V"-shaped crossfire network.

This position prioritized being simple and brutal, yet was undeniably classic.

If the Serbians wanted to break out along this road, they would first have to brave a dense rain of bullets firing simultaneously from the left and right, advancing hundreds of meters over open ground with absolutely no cover.

When they finally managed to charge close, they would have to split their forces and simultaneously launch uphill assaults against the higher-ground positions on both sides.

This was simply a corridor of death that would be difficult to fill even with human lives.

As for ignoring the attacks from both sides of the road and forcing their way through?

The horse-drawn wagons already burnt to skeletons on the road, the wreckage of several trucks billowing black smoke, and the layers upon layers of Serbian soldier corpses carpeting the entire road had already demonstrated the foolish consequences of such an idea in the cruelest manner to latecomers.

Blood soaked the brown soil, turning it dark red.

The air was permeated with lingering gunsmoke and a nauseating stench of blood.

And in front of the positions on both sides of the road, the ground was similarly paved with corpses.

These corpses silently declared that at the critical juncture of life and death, these Serbian soldiers had also erupted with astonishing courage. They truly fought desperately.

It was just a pity that in the face of an absolute generational gap in firepower and the advantage of positional defense, courage was the cheapest commodity...

2nd Battalion Commander Jonathan was currently observing outside the frontline position with binoculars.

His gaze swept over the front of the position, finally stopping at a location about two hundred meters from the first trench.

There lay the wreckage of two "Iris Mark II, Modified" Armored Knights, still billowing thick black smoke.

The cockpit armor of the Armored Knight with a broken leg was still open, but the pilot’s corpse hung upside down from it.

Realizing the enemy had weapons capable of penetrating the Armored Knight’s defenses, and with the Armored Knight having lost mobility, this pilot, panicking in combat for the first time, chose to flee.

However, the marksmen equipped with semi-automatic rifles clearly wouldn’t let this "high-value target" escape.

Seeing these two wrecks, Jonathan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

Once upon a time, Armored Knights were synonymous with nightmares for all infantry.

Those steel giants were the natural predators of all infantry, and simultaneously the ultimate weapon every infantryman most desired their side to possess.

But now, times had changed.

Those "weak" infantry who used to tremble before Armored Knights now also possessed weapons capable of facing them head-on.

These two steel giants in front of the position, which had charged blindly only to be easily picked off and taken down by their own anti-armor gun crews, were the most powerful proof.

Jonathan knew very well that half a year ago, even facing these two modified older model Armored Knights, his battalion’s position absolutely wouldn’t have been able to hold.

Even if the opponent couldn’t completely destroy the positions on both sides, they could easily scatter the defending infantry, covering their main force’s smooth passage.

But now...

Jonathan even felt that ever since the instruction unit was equipped with that 50mm anti-armor artillery called the "RAK 15," the "Armored Knight Phobia" that had troubled him for years was mostly cured.

During the earlier fighting, when the observation post reported the Serbians had dispatched Armored Knights preparing for an assault, he admitted his heart still skipped a beat.

But that panic was fleeting, replaced by an inexplicable calmness.

Because he knew his battalion had been reinforced with two anti-armor gun squads. Those two guns were his greatest confidence, meant specifically for "opening cans."

Facts proved Jonathan’s confidence wasn’t misplaced; those two inconspicuous small guns did a spectacular job.

Thinking of the two guns that had just shown their mighty power, Jonathan felt an itch in his heart and was somewhat curious.

He confirmed the ammunition and personnel status of the frontline positions again, gave a few instructions to the company commanders, and then crouched low, moving along the communication trench toward a gun emplacement to the rear flank of the defense line.

That was the position of the anti-armor gun squads.

And the positioning of these two gun squads was quite tricky—

Thanks to the extremely low profile of the "RAK 15," the entire gun emplacement was almost half-buried in the soil at the top of the gentle slope, revealing only the barrel and a small piece of the gun shield.

The soldiers of the gun squad had procured a makeshift camouflage net made of fishing nets, hung with weeds and dirt-colored cloth strips, covering the entire gun emplacement tightly.

If one didn’t walk close and only looked from a distance, they would never discover that two deadly direct-fire artillery pieces were hidden on this seemingly unremarkable gentle slope.

Jonathan crouched low, walking quickly to one of the gun emplacements.

The gun crew members inside were clearing the chamber, moving the spent casings aside, then prying open the lids of the ammunition boxes and placing them within easy reach.

"Beautifully done, lads!"

Jonathan jumped into the emplacement, unsparing in his praise, and patted the gun captain’s shoulder heavily.

"Major Jonathan!"

The young gun captain smiled upon seeing Jonathan, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.

He wiped the sweat from his face and puffed his chest out proudly:

"This is nothing! The Commander said this thing is meant for those iron cans! If they dare to come, we dare to send them back to the scrapyard!"

"Well said!" Jonathan laughed loudly.

This relaxed and cheerful atmosphere was very common among the officers and soldiers of the instruction unit.

Morin always encouraged this kind of "mutual business flattery" and cross-branch communication activities among subordinates, because it helped boost morale and team cohesion.

Jonathan chatted with the gun captain for a bit, inquiring about the status of the gun and ammunition.

The gun captain patted his chest and guaranteed the gun was in good condition, and armor-piercing shells were still relatively abundant—after all, the consumption rate couldn’t compare to other automatic weapons, and the Serbians had a limited number of Armored Knights anyway.

So as long as the Serbians dared to send iron cans over, they guaranteed the opponent wouldn’t be returning.

While they were chatting, Jonathan noticed a gun crew member pull out a small wooden bucket containing white paint from somewhere.

Holding a small brush, he was carefully painting something on the gun barrel.

Curious, Jonathan leaned in and saw the other man painting a white ring on the barrel.

Looking closer, he noticed there was already an almost identical white ring on the barrel of this gun.

"What are you doing?" Jonathan couldn’t help asking.

"Major, the Commander taught us to do this. It’s called a ’kill ring’... One ring means this gun took out an Armored Knight."

The gun captain moved beside him and explained, then pointed to the white ring already painted on the barrel, his tone full of showing off: "We painted this one last time in Vienna, when we assisted the Austro-Hungarian Empire in suppressing the rebellion."

"At that time, we and another gun crew together took out two Armored Knights. But because it was our first actual combat, we couldn’t figure out who fired the final shot. The Commander told our two crews to split the battle results evenly, each counting one kill, and we painted a ring on the barrel."

At this point, the gun captain lowered his voice, carrying an excitement like sharing a secret:

"Later, the Commander told us that the new model we took out in Vienna had never had a confirmed kill record before! Our gun crew basically made history! The first battle result in the entire army!"

"Wow! Not bad at all!"

Jonathan listened with amazement, genuinely happy for these soldiers.

"Then I have to congratulate you in advance. Strive to fill this barrel with rings as soon as possible!"

"Yes, Major!" the gun crew members replied in unison, their morale high.

Just then, rumbling artillery fire sounded again from the rear of the defense line.

But Jonathan didn’t turn around, because he knew it was the regimental 105mm artillery battalion providing fire support to friendly positions in other directions.

Just like how they had previously assisted their 2nd Battalion in blanketing attacking enemies.

Although he didn’t know the specific situation of the other defense lines, judging from the incessant artillery fire, he could roughly guess that everyone was under similar pressure.

After all, with merely two regiments, they were stubbornly holding out against the desperate charges of two enemy divisions...

In Jonathan’s mind, he couldn’t help but recall what Commander Morin had said to all of them, standing in front of the map and tapping it with a pointer during the brief battalion commander-level combat meeting not long ago.

"I know this is difficult... The enemy outnumbers us several times over. They will attack like madmen."

"But this is a perfect opportunity, and we must seize it! Moreover, the 4th Guard Reserve Infantry Division and the 27th Infantry Division are rushing over at full speed! We are not fighting an isolated battle!"

At that time, Morin’s gaze swept over each battalion commander, his tone calm but filled with power.

"Remember my words, boys... Hold firm, and there will be a way!"

"Hold firm, and there will be a way..."

Jonathan muttered this phrase softly, clenching his fists.

Yes... As long as they held firm, the Colonel would definitely have a way.

On this point, the entire instruction unit believed without a doubt.