Boom—!

Several invisible Self-Destruct Puffshrooms found gaps, lunging at outer half-demon warriors.

Ice shards sprayed as broken bodies were hurled into the air.

The few scouts with anti-stealth skills couldn’t cover the exhausted army.

Bastardos watched, helpless.

Since the “attack” on their supplies, the demonkin bared their fangs, making up for days of quiet with relentless harassment!

It slowed their march to a crawl.

The firewood for warmth—gone overnight, no trace!

No guards were attacked, no strange footprints, no aerial strikes.

So much wood and food vanished from tents like a magic trick!

The only “luck” was half their food remained.

The absurd reason? Two half-demons, pilfering supplies all night, unknowingly saved that portion with their constant coming and going.

Now, those scraps were under tight watch, never leaving sight.

They didn’t retreat—not for lack of want, but necessity.

Even Payne, the Empire’s envoy, wasn’t the main reason.

The real reason: their current position meant a retreat would face days of freezing, costing heavy losses.

Better to gamble everything, seize the demonkin’s lair, and use their resources to survive!

But…

Boom—!

Another explosion rocked the flank, sparking panicked cries.

What were these controlled creatures?

So many—endless, like they couldn’t die!

Were the demonkin targeting him first?

Logically, the lizardmen, with fewer numbers, should’ve been hit first.

Unbeknownst to him, the lizardmen, trudging a distance away, were in worse shape.

Chief Tuck’s supplies didn’t even keep that “lucky” half of food.

Tuck suspected a traitor, torturing guards, but found nothing.

Under relentless Puffshroom assaults, neither army reached the demonkin tribe on time.

Even at night, the blasts didn’t stop.

By noon the next day, two weary armies—starving, chilled, and battered by a sleepless night—finally glimpsed their target.

The demonkin… tribe… fortress?

High walls loomed, crowded with demonkin and Puffshroom shapes.

At the top, a Puffshroom in a red cape stood out, oddly striking.

Several tubes lined the walls—crossbow-like weapons, maybe.

The demonkin built a fortress?!

Attacking a tribe was one thing. A fortress was another.

Their warriors, worn by cold and hardship, were far from peak strength.

They’d have to rely on their strongest to break through.

Gurgle… urghhh…

A sickening, sticky sound rolled from the walls, like rancid liquid churning in a rotting throat.

The noise pierced with a mind-scraping edge, making half-demons, lizardmen, and even demonkin on the walls shudder, a chill shooting to their skulls.

“Crawlers… and mongrels!” The voice grated like a dull blade on bone, echoing across the battlefield. “You’re surrounded! Drop your weapons, surrender with respect, and you’ll keep your chief’s seat!”

The vile sound hit hard. Some already drained warriors vomited on the spot.

Calling for surrender while insulting them as crawlers and mongrels? Even Shòu, nearby, knew the boss wasn’t serious—let alone the armies below.

The blatant contempt ignited both forces.

Lizardman chief Tuck’s red slit-eyes narrowed, rage nearly bursting. He stomped forward, claw jabbing at the walls: “Filthy scum! All your dirty tricks just sicken me!” He spun, roaring to his starved, green-eyed warriors. “Kill them all! Today, I’ll let you taste demonkin flesh!”

Gray, a demonkin among them, shot Tuck a sour glance but held his tongue in the moment.

“Sigh…” The wall’s voice dripped with mock regret, stickier than ever. “Harsh words… but I meant well. Since you won’t take it…”

“Then die, crawlers!”

A massive surge of magic gathered at the walls. An old lizardman mage beside Tuck sensed it, eyes widening.

Clutching his staff, his voice cracked with fear and urgency: “Chief! Dodge—!!”

He lunged, thrusting his staff before Tuck, raising a thick magic barrier.

The next instant, a dozen blinding magic orbs, like falling comets, shot from the walls!

They blanketed Tuck’s area, raw energy locking him, the mage, and yards around them in a death grip.

A deafening blast shook the icefield. The energy surge kicked up ice and dirt, forming a chaotic white mist.

As the ice dust settled, a ravaged crater remained.

No Tuck, no old mage—two Diamond-tier fighters and a dozen lizardmen, gone, leaving only unclaimed flesh scraps.

Gulp—

Gray, standing near the crater, felt cold sweat drip, freezing halfway down his face.

No wonder Galen fell here!

A trap like that—Galen would be dead or crippled!

What kind of horrific magic weapon was this?

Elsewhere, Yuneer, Payne, and Bastardos—Hall-tier powerhouses—grimaced. That burst of destructive energy felt lethal even to them!

“Alright, let’s try this again…” Lin Jun started.

But the others didn’t give him a chance.

“Charge! Destroy those magic weapons!” Bastardos shouted.

The lizardmen, led by Gray and Yuneer, yelled, “Avenge the chief!”

“Fine, no surrender then!” Lin Jun sighed.

He’d hoped one blast would settle it.

“But you didn’t think I was bluffing about being surrounded, did you?” He paused. “This isn’t two thousand against three hundred…”

Psh! Psh! Pshhh—!!!

The battlefield’s smooth ice churned. Countless hidden tunnel nets burst open!

Endless white Puffshrooms poured from every crack, flooding in from all sides!

In moments, they lined the horizon, a white ring of death, halting the charging tribal armies mid-step.

“It’s eight thousand against two thousand! The advantage is mine!”

(End of Chapter)