TL: Chapter 420 has been fixed.
~
The snow fell relentlessly for two full days before stopping, but the bitter cold did not leave; it continued seeping into the northern lands.
A tall bearman trudged through waist-deep snow, one laborious step at a time.
He reached out a furry paw, gripped a dead branch, and snapped it with a light tug.
He tossed the branch into the basket on his back; fuel for tonight’s warmth.
Suddenly his gray-brown eyes brightened. He bent down, dug through the snow, and lifted a frozen ice-plain ghost fox; it hadn’t survived the sudden freeze.
The bearman rumbled happily in his throat. The cubs at home would have extra meat tonight.
But the brief joy didn’t last. At the edge of his vision, a familiar fur pattern on a nearby snow slope stabbed his eyes.
Pawing away the snow revealed a bearman from the tribe who had gone foraging days ago and never returned, now a frozen corpse still curled against the cold.
He didn’t know how long this unnatural chill would last, but he knew if it continued, half the tribe would die within half a month.
With snow this deep and temperatures this low, migration was impossible.
As he worried for the future, something small caught his eye.
A perfectly round walking mushroom had appeared beside him at some point. Its light body left only two rows of round prints in the snow.
The walking mushroom didn’t fear him; it stood there motionless.
The bearman instinctively raised a paw to scoop the delivered food into his basket.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t touch that Puchi.”
The bearman whirled. A demonkin stood not far away.
What tightened his heart more was the entire squad behind the demonkin, all staring at him.
The bearman lowered his paw, backed away warily, and asked, “Demons… what are you doing here?”
Unlike half-demons, demonkin, and lizardmen, long-furred bearmen were not part of the demon race. They lived in the north long before demons arrived.
Demon arrival had compressed much of their living space. Conflicts were frequent in early years; only the last few decades had stabilized, or rather, the bearmen had given up reclaiming lost territory.
Thus, suddenly seeing an unfamiliar demon squad, his first reaction was wariness.
He quickly assessed their strength, wondering if he could warn the tribe if fighting broke out.
Spark paid no mind to his caution and looked around. “I’m looking for a nearby bearman tribe. Looks like I’m in the right direction.”
Hearing they were looking for his tribe, the bearman’s pupils contracted. He turned and ran.
Spark rolled his eyes but didn’t pursue. He led his team along the tracks the bearman had left.
When they reached the bearman tribe, the entire tribe was ready for defense.
Spark didn’t approach. He shouted from afar, “We represent the Fortress and the Northern Alliance. My lord knows you may be facing sudden cold. He specially sent me to help!”
He had the two plump recluse Puchis at the front of his team step forward, pulling massive quantities of mushrooms and firewood from their bellies.
The desperately needed supplies laid out before them caused a stir among the bearman ranks.
A bearman who seemed the chief stepped forward. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Consider these free aid from the Fortress to northern kin.” Spark spoke warmly, calling them kin without hesitation. “Of course, if you’re willing to join the Northern Alliance and build a better north together, you’re welcome anytime! At the very least, in the Northern Alliance, no one starves or freezes!”
After leaving an address, Spark had his men unload a third of the food and firewood, then led the team toward the next tribe.
Only when they were far away did the bearmen come out to gather the mushrooms and firewood.
All bearmen were incredulous. In this crisis, the so-called Northern Alliance was willing to give aid for free?
Did they have infinite food and firewood?
Regardless, free supplies were good. With these, the tribe could hold out longer.
After long thought, the bearman chief sent a small group, under the pretext of thanks, toward the address Spark gave.
No one knew how long the unnatural cold would last. Sending a team to scout and gather intel was wise.
There were many such teams like Spark’s. Lin Jun was going all-out on rescue.
But distance limited them to roughly half the north. For farther tribes, Lin Jun could only wish them luck.
The unnatural cooling also affected demon cities near the north, but the impact wasn’t obvious yet. Aside from the gutter-dwelling lower demons feeling it keenly, it hadn’t alarmed any demon “big shots.”
Most demon higher-ups were still focused on the war with humanity.
…
“Xenophon, that useless pig who ruins everything! How could he let a large-scale summoning ritual succeed right under his nose? Screwed up twice; His Majesty should send him to the slaughterhouse!”
Sigmund, growing ever more pig-like, read the latest intelligence and viciously mocked his pigheaded colleague.
A lord-tier storm elemental summoned right in front of the army. Though Xenophon himself was fine, his army was crushed to seventy-eighty percent. Only thirty percent of remnants had been recovered so far.
After crushing the pigfolk legion and Redstone City, the storm elemental had headed north, passing the ruins of Earthpeak Fort to Threehill City.
Then, between the turtle-shelled Threehill City and the demon army besieging it, it chose to attack the latter first.
In the end, only Prince Visarius and another blood-clan duke, coordinating with the army, defeated the elemental lord.
But as the defeated storm elemental dispersed, it released all its energy. Scattered winds and lightning caused considerable losses to the army.
With the Sword Saint already gravely wounded by the prince, humans stayed holed up. Otherwise a counterattack then might have forced the western front to retreat to the ports!
And all of this, no matter who looked, was Xenophon’s fault.
Though details were missing from reports, a ritual array capable of summoning a lord-tier elemental spirit, including preparations and sacrifices, couldn’t be small-scale; at least eight hundred people, taking half a day to activate.
Sigmund couldn’t imagine how negligent Xenophon had to be to miss this!
Anyway, post-war reckoning wouldn’t be kind to Xenophon!
“As expected, it still comes down to us!” Sigmund crushed the report and looked up.
Before him: High Fort in flames.
(End of Chapter)
Though Xenophon himself was fine, his army was crushed to seventy-eighty percent. Only thirty percent of remnants had been recovered so far.
The math aint mathing here.