The Hesmor forces had begun their assault; they surged across the Emerald River and quickly formed a spearhead formation to shield the cavalry behind them as it started to cross. This was the most dangerous phase, because the Golden forces could ambush at any moment. The Emerald River was a boundary once it was crossed, the Hesmor army could unleash the full strength of its military power. Strangely, Hemor’s crossing proceeded with extraordinary calm; there was not a single disturbance from the Golden side, until the last of the cumbersome stone-throwing engines were brought across. The Hesmor army was ready for a bloody conquest.

  From high in the Emerald mountain range, the scouts of Venom Serpent received the news. The hot-blooded girls of the mountain fastness quickly relayed the information back to the main base at BloodClaw fortress. BloodClaw Fortress was the sole stronghold of this tribe. Unlike GoldenFang, the BloodClaw tribe had retained its nomadic warrior identity: they preferred riding wolves across the plains, pitching temporary tents, and living freely.

  In the command chamber, four heads of house of the Golden sat in council; each wore an expression of gravity and worry.

  Net was furious upon learning that Infernic’s signal stations had gone dark and the Hesmor forces at the two major fortresses Medit and Loket had vanished from observation. When Terax’s troops received word and marched back, Allblack had already been seized. This stronghold had become the greatest barrier preventing the GoldenFang forces from reinforcing the main front at BloodClaw territory.

  Hush, the RhinoHorn chieftain, led 20,000 troops from his domain to BloodClaw to aid the defense, among them more than 500 specialized units. Their troops were large-bodied soldiers possessing exceptional endurance, clad in heavy armor and wielding spiked maces. In contrast to GoldenFang, the RhinoHorn tribe were slow but immovably steadfast in defense, with formidable stamina. Each swing of their maces was a brutal impact that no formation could withstand; they were dubbed the Iron Rhino. In defensive terms, a single Iron Rhino soldier could replace a heavy stone-throwing engine. With their extraordinary strength, they could hurl tons of rock at the enemy from afar, inflicting severe losses.

  Heria remained calmer; her forces were professional assassins who executed long-range ambushes with deadly poisoned darts. However, the Hesmor troops were advancing skewed toward Infernic rather than the mountain range; if Heria abandoned the mountainous terrain advantage, her units could not fully exploit their strengths. The situation was extremely unfavorable for the Golden: now Heria’s and Net’s forces could not support from both wings, forcing Nash to face head-on the main Hesmor force of over 100,000 troops.

  “What is King Richer doing? He just stays holed up in the capital while we face an invasion, and all he does is seclude himself,” Nash said angrily, unconcerned with his tone.

  Net remained silent, perhaps the only one who knew what Richer was doing, yet he received good news that DragonScale and NightWing would dispatch reinforcements to assist. Perhaps what they needed to do now was hold on.

  “I do not know how, by some means, they managed to cross the Valley of Death, but in short I cannot help you. My forces will coordinate with Terax to isolate Allblack. Prevent them from joining with the main wing. In addition, the other two tribes will quickly send their specialized units to support. What you need to do is hold out.” Net calmly set the plan; he could not join the main battle. He needed to return to defense and prevent Voga’s forces.

  “Wolf cavalry are not a garrison unit; we will fight a bloody frontal battle, at least we can wear down the enemy and keep the initiative to withdraw,” Nash replied calmly. As a proud warrior, of course he was not afraid to die.

  The final plan was set: Net led over 1,000 troops back to besiege Allblack; Hush, with 200 Iron Rhino units and 20,000 Golden troops, would launch a direct attack on the front line. Heria and her Green Assassin contingent of 300 would conduct guerrilla strikes to attrit and sow chaos among the enemy. Five hundred wolf cavalry, together with Nash, would move with Net and then break off to strike the enemy’s flank.

  At night, the Hesmor army set up their white tents to rest after a long march, preparing to launch a direct assault on BloodClaw Fortress in two days. The bright tents stood out against the dark night. Inside, the camp was meticulously organized into clearly defined zones: the food stores, the armory, the command area… Every soldier knew exactly where their tent was, and wandering into another zone was strictly forbidden, any violation would be punished with immediate execution.

  From the dense forest, the Green Assassins watched the enemy closely. Their targets were the food and weapon stores. However, the guards were too numerous, leaving no obvious gaps for an attack. It wasn’t until one unlucky soldier needed to relieve himself that Heria personally seized the opportunity. From her fingernail, she injected a neurotoxin into the soldier, leaving him dazed and docile. Her eyes, suddenly transformed to resemble those of a serpent, whispered into the soldier’s ear:

  “Tell me everything you know…”

  Soon, the soldier divulged all the information he possessed, including the locations of the command post and the food stores. Heria discarded his now purple-tinged corpse and quickly marked three primary targets for the night. They would set fire to three food storage zones. The most dangerous area, closest to the command center, would be under Heria’s direct command, while the other two were assigned to her two fellow captains. The Green Assassin units split into three groups and infiltrated the enemy camp, slipping past guards to reach the food stores with ease unaware that a red parrot perched on a nearby branch was observing them closely.

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  At the food storage area, two vigilant guards kept a careful watch. Their duty was critical, as this was the heart of the camp, entrusted to them by Ceasar himself. They could not afford failure. Suddenly, a green, fragrant smoke appeared before them, swirling and weaving through the gaps in their heavy armor, brushing lightly against their skin. It felt as if a soft hand caressed them. As they marveled at the strange sensation, a slender fingernail pierced their throats. The poison coursed rapidly through their veins to the heart, dropping them instantly without a sound. Through the smoke, Heria emerged, exuding a seductive aura, lightly licking the blood from her finger. It was effortless, the guards were mere foot soldiers, not even at the level of warrior. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. Yet Heria felt a twinge of unease. Ignoring the feeling, she focused on completing the mission quickly and retreating to conserve her strength for the real battle ahead.

  Heria signaled her troops to clean up and swiftly entered the dark tent. Inside were rows of heavy wooden chests. With her serpent-like glowing eyes, she could see everything in the dark. Suddenly, she frowned, the wooden crates seemed off. Their weight was far heavier than usual, for supplies transported over long distances were typically dry and light. Heria channeled her mana into her elongated fingernail and slashed through a crate. What spilled out was nothing but dirt and stones. A chill ran down Heria’s spine as she realized the truth, she had walked right into a trap.

  “Clap, clap, clap.”

  Applause echoed through the tent, accompanied by light radiating from a magical stone, illuminating the entire room. Mullack sat on the ceiling, clapping enthusiastically, a strange red parrot perched on his shoulder. No one had noticed him enter. There was no trace of mana, no aura. Mullack simply sat there as still as a corpse.

  “Impressive. If I am not mistaken, you must be Heria, head of the VenomSerpent Clan. Your ability is fascinating. Your body can transform into toxic gas, evading physical attacks while striking the enemy invisibly. Truly, I am somewhat intrigued by both your body and your powers.”

  Mullack’s lips moved, but the strange voice did not come from him. It came from the small parrot. The clapping stopped, and a dark, malevolent vortex appeared behind Mullack. From within emerged a grotesque monster, pale-skinned with a smooth, bald head. Mullack grinned, his face twisted with cruelty.

  “But I wonder, can your ability evade Will?”

  “Boom!” A massive surge of Will from the creature slammed down on the Green Assassins, crushing each of them into the ground like pulp.

  “No!”

  Heria screamed in horror, witnessing her sisters die helplessly, tears streaming down her beautiful face, her serpent eyes blazing with rage. “What’s this? Crying?” Mullack mocked contemptuously, snapping his fingers to command Volder to increase the pressure. An even more terrifying surge of Will bore down on Heria, forcing her to her knees. She quickly transformed into smoke, but the pressure of Will forced her back into solid form. This cycle repeated until Heria was exhausted, her body pressed against the earth. She could feel her organs fracturing, soon she would join her sisters, crushed into nothing but pulp.

  “I am not dying yet,” Heria gritted her teeth, summoning the last of her strength to activate a hidden badge in the cleavage of her chest.

  “The leadership badge of the Venom Serpent Clan.”

  “Boom!” Heria’s body dissolved mysteriously, and the surge of Will, having lost its target, smashed into the ground below.

  “You’ve used it already?” Mullack smiled, seemingly uninterested in pursuing her. A glint of greed appeared and was quickly suppressed. As a notorious pirate, his knowledge of ancient relics was vast. He could distinguish the “Rotten Flesh” among the stinking remains of the dead. Leadership badges were epic weapons of the DarkGod era. It was said that if six badges were gathered, a legendary weapon would be formed. Of course, compared to an Enestone, it was nothing. Mulack was consumed by ambition; he sought to reach the level of a god, and the only way to achieve it was to possess an Enestone.

  At that moment, Ceasar and the remaining ambush forces arrived. Seeing Ceasar’s cheerful demeanor, Mullack could surmise that the other two sites had yielded decent results as well.

  “Indeed, General Ceasar, you anticipated their ambush and countered it brilliantly. Very clever.” Mullock clapped in praise. The guards had all been misled by false intelligence; the so-called food stores were actually ambush positions, and they had nearly wiped out the entire Green Assassin unit.

  “Of course, but I have a question. Why did you let her go? I know you had the full capability to keep her,” Ceasar said, stroking his beard and frowning.

  The person he referred to was none other than Heria, whose unit had been personally annihilated by Mullock. Yet strangely, he had been kind enough to release the key figure in this operation. Mullock smiled faintly and replied calmly.

  “Golden is not as simple as you think. Beyond the six tribes, there exists a secretive faction known as The Wirtter. They possess an ability called "Shadow". I let her go simply because at that moment, what I used was itself a "Shadow".”

  “So that’s how it is,” Ceasar murmured, impressed. It was indeed a clever ruse: releasing an ordinary person would have made her words worthless, but the leader of a tribe? That commanded credibility. Ceasar once again reassessed Mullock; he was far more dangerous than Jacor’s tales suggested. If one was not careful, Mullock could easily strike Hesmor with a lethal blow.

  Deep in the emerald-green forest, Heria condensed from a green plume of smoke, expelling a spatter of thick black blood. Her unit had been almost entirely wiped out; only a few survived. It had all been a trap, with the information from that soldier leading her and her team to the precipice of death. But what terrified her most was what they had faced: a "Shadow'". A ‘Shadow’ so powerful that the force of its Will had injured a Battle King as strong as her. The one who wielded it had to be someone of the highest rank among the Wirtter.

  “Damn it… what are the Wirtter doing? Has Richer gone mad? Does he intend to abandon Golden? No, I must quickly inform the others.”