Running footsteps came from the end of the snowy forest path.
First a faint vibration, then clearer and clearer snow-crunching steps, mixed with low wolf-like panting. A squad of orc wolf cavalry burst out of the snowy woods, about a hundred riders, wrapped in heavy fur cloaks, weapons and packs hanging viciously from their backs.
The wolf cavalry did not pause, charging past the forest edge at full speed, their hooves plowing deep furrows into the snow that were quickly filled by falling flakes.
When the hoofbeats receded, a few heads cautiously poked out from behind snowdrifts by the road.
It was Chen Yu and his group.
Nilly wiped the snow from her face and exhaled a cloud of white air. “This is the squad, right?”
“Leon?” Chen Yu asked.
Leon rose from behind another snowdrift and flicked the snow off his cloak. He stared at the direction the wolf cavalry had gone for a few seconds before nodding.
“It’s them. They went up the northern mountain road. That’s farther from the mine, out of the reach of demon reinforcements. Theoretically, they’re the most likely to break through the defenses.”
“Then that’s our target.” Chen Yu nodded with satisfaction, bouncing off Nilly’s shoulder and landing on the snow.
Elara crawled out of hiding, rubbing her hands and blowing out a puff of vapor. “But Your Majesty, Shadow Traversal during daytime... in this dazzling sunlit snowfield, a moving shadow will be too obvious. How are we supposed to follow it?”
She wasn’t wrong.
The weather was clear today, sunlight reflecting off the snow. A drifting shadow would look bizarre.
Chen Yu squatted on the snow, thinking.
Then his body began to inflate.
He swelled up like a blown-up balloon, rapidly expanding to carry the four of them gently into the air, finally forming a giant slime balloon over three meters in diameter.
Nilly and Elara both exclaimed.
The four of them sank into the gel balloon, feeling as if stuffed into a gigantic jelly, or like a cloud — soft and warm.
“Hold on tight,” Chen Yu said.
The balloon started to rise.
The gel’s color gradually shifted, melting from a translucent pale green into a hue almost identical to the gray-white sky.
From the ground the enormous gel mass was nearly invisible, only the edges occasionally refracting a faint halo.
They rose to about a hundred meters and then drifted forward, trailing far behind the wolf cavalry.
Elara lay on the balloon’s edge and peered down at the snowfields. Trees were reduced to tiny black dots, and ridgelines stretched below, as if someone had pressed a shrink button on the world.
Wind rushed past their ears, carrying the chill of snow, but the gel remained comfortably warm.
She reached out and poked the gel beneath her.
Her finger sank in and was gently bounced back.
“So soft, like cotton candy.”
“Don’t poke it,” Nilly said, yet she reached out and prodded once as well.
Nilly looked up through the semi-transparent gel. “Little Majesty, are you sure this thing won’t leak?”
“No.” Chen Yu replied. “But if you squeeze me, I can’t guarantee anything.”
Nilly promptly withdrew her hand.
Leon studied the terrain below, then glanced skyward. “Since the Forge Region is so important, the higher demons may be watching from behind. We just need to avoid revealing our track...”
“It’s only a squad of wolf cavalry.” Nilly interrupted, collapsing into the gel and squinting comfortably. “Demons probably won’t care much. Once they start fighting, we’ll slip in. Nobody will notice.”
She paused, then added, “Like sneaking into a kitchen to steal food.”
Chen Yu instinctively wanted to bob his body in agreement, but thinking of them still being on top of it, he restrained himself.
After drifting for about half an hour, Nilly suddenly sat upright. “The orcs have stopped.”
They looked down.
The wolf cavalry had indeed come to a halt. They led their mounts into the trees beside a mountain access road, then each found a concealed spot to crouch, as if waiting for something.
Chen Yu guided the balloon to hover above the mountain road. Seconds ticked by while snow continued to fall, slowly covering the orc tracks.
An hour passed.
Nilly grew impatient and complained, “What are they waiting for, for the enemy to run out and greet them?”
Before she finished speaking, a thunderous boom came from behind.
The sound rang clearly even from the mine’s direction, dozens of li away, shaking the air.
A plume of black smoke rose from the mine, stark against the white snow.
“It’s started,” Leon said quietly.
The orc force had attacked the mine.
At almost the same time, a small demon squad appeared on the mountain road — about fifty heavily armed demons rushing toward the mine.
They were clearly responding to the explosion.
Once the demon squad’s silhouettes disappeared around a bend, the wolf cavalry reemerged from the trees. They mounted silently, no shouts or horns, only the quiet urging of their mounts as they galloped up the road.
The gel balloon bobbed along in the sky after them.
The ridge road was steeper than expected.
It looked as if someone had hewn it straight out of the rock face with an axe, only wide enough for three riders abreast. One side was bare gray-black rock; the other plunged into a bottomless cliff.
Snow accumulation here was shallow; wind blew most flakes down the cliff, leaving a thin layer of ice on the road that made footing precarious.
The wolf cavalry stopped again about two hundred meters from the camp.
Centurion Geluomu halted at the front, signaled, and the hundred wolf riders dismounted without a sound, tethering their mounts in the rock recesses before drawing weapons and creeping forward.
He crouched behind a protruding rock and watched the camp through the snow.
The camp sat at the narrowest point of the road where the rock walls converged into a natural chokepoint.
The demons had piled logs and stones into a low wall, with three black tents behind it. Two sentry positions sat on the wall, but now both were empty — the reinforcement squad that had rushed to the mine had clearly taken most of the defenders.
“Just like the Shaman said,” Geluomu rumbled, lowering his voice with a growl. “Even fewer demons than expected.”
A young orc beside him clenched his scimitar, his ears trembling with excitement. “Centurion, do we attack now?”
Geluomu grinned, patting the youth’s shoulder, then drew his double-bladed battle axe.
“Charge straight in. Shoot arrows to disrupt them, then close on the camp.”
No more elaborate tactics.
Orcs fought like this — spot the enemy, charge, cut down whatever stood in the way.
Complicated schemes were for cowards and humans.
Six orcs took their shortbows from their backs, nocked arrows, and drew. The twang of string was masked by wind and snow as six arrows split the air toward the camp.
Two missed and embedded in wooden posts by the tents. The other four found targets: one demon who had just climbed from a tent was pierced through the chest by an arrow and fell, screaming.
Another demon patrolling behind the low wall took an arrow in the shoulder, dropping the spear from his hand.
“Charge!” Geluomu roared.
The remaining orcs surged from hiding. They didn’t dodge or hesitate, they charged straight for the low wall, boots scraping on ice with a shrill sound.
Alarms from the magic formation sounded in the camp.
Demons poured from the tents, about thirty-five in all. Among them, a dozen wore the black robes of New Sun followers.
One worshipper raised a staff whose head glowed a dim red, but before the spell could finish, Geluomu smashed into the wall.
The massive orc did not slow, nor did he look for the gate; he bellowed and rammed his shoulder armor into the low wall like a battering ram.
Boom!
The wall burst open, and Geluomu charged through the splinters. His axe swept across, bisecting the nearest demon.
Warm blood spattered the snow and steamed up into white vapor.
More wolf riders poured in behind him.
The fight instantly turned white-hot. The orcs held numerical advantage and momentum, but the demons and New Sun followers stubbornly resisted using terrain and magic.
A cultist cast an acid arrow that corroded an orc’s breastplate, and another conjured a flame shield that blocked a swinging scimitar.
Geluomu had just felled a second demon when he saw three New Sun worshippers grouped together, apparently preparing a large spell.
He started to charge at them when the shadow beneath his feet began to move.
It wasn’t a trick; the shadow truly rippled like a black pool stirred. A hand reached out from the shadow, clutching a pitch-black dagger aimed at Geluomu.
Geluomu leapt back. The dagger grazed his greave, spitting sparks. He roared and swung his axe at the shadow, but the blade only struck the ground, flinging stones.
“Shadow rats.” Geluomu spat.
The assassins did not respond.
They moved like phantoms, sometimes in the physical world, sometimes merged into shadow.
An orc warrior tried to seize one, but his hand passed through as if grasping smoke. The next moment a dagger pierced his heart from behind.
Orc casualties began to mount.
They excelled at direct combat, but against such elusive foes they were helpless. Blades glanced off thin air; arrows failed to hit; they were forced to receive strikes.
Geluomu felt cold hairs rise on his neck and spun, holding his axe in front of him.
Clang!
A dagger struck the axe shaft.
The assassin missed and immediately retreated, starting to fade to blend back into shadow.
Geluomu gave no chance.
The centurion roared and surged forward, his axe whistling as it swept. The assassin was forced to parry and was hurled violently through the air.
They landed silently on the ground.
Before Geluomu could fully recover, another murderous intent struck from behind.
A second assassin had somehow appeared at his back, dagger stabbing toward the nape.
Geluomu tried to dodge but it was too late; he felt the ice-cold blade sinking into flesh.
At that moment, as if blessed by orc ancestors, the magic formation at the camp center suddenly detonated.
The core runes overloaded and exploded in blinding light, instantly illuminating the entire camp and every corner and shadow.
The bright light was only dazzling to the orcs, but devastatingly disruptive to shadow assassins.
Their power depended on darkness, and the sudden light dispersed every shadow. The assassin about to strike Geluomu hesitated for a split second.
That was all the time needed.
Geluomu seized the opening and spun, his axe flying free.
The blade sliced into the second assassin’s chest, carrying him several meters and pinning him into the rock wall.
Another nearby assassin tried to flee, but Geluomu had already drawn a spare short axe at his waist and lunged.
The short axe fell. The assassin raised a dagger to parry, but Orc brute force overwhelmed everything. The dagger was yanked away, and the short axe ended the assassin’s movement, nearly cleaving him in two.
The remaining assassins saw the situation turn and tried to escape, but the bright light persisted; nowhere to hide. Three orcs closed in, their scimitars falling and ending the fight.
Geluomu panted and walked to the assassin impaled on the rock, withdrawing his battle axe. The corpse slid down and left a crimson streak in the snow.
He turned to the camp center. The magic formation had been completely destroyed, rune slabs shattered into dozens of pieces, smoke curling from the center. An orc crouched nearby, checking the damage, then looked up at Geluomu.
“Centurion, did the worshippers’ formation... lose control?”
Geluomu stared at the fragments. He didn’t understand magic, but orc instinct told him this explosion was too coincidental, as if someone had covertly aided them.
They didn’t have time to ponder it.
“Count the casualties,” he said in a rough voice. “Those who can move, take them. Those who can’t... leave them here. We’ll bury them when we come back.”
The orcs sprang into action.
Seventeen of them died in the raid and five were injured. The demons and assassins were wiped out.
Not a major victory, but enough to breach this line of defense.
Five minutes later the remaining wolf riders remounted. Geluomu led the way, continuing up the road toward the Forge Region.
The wolf riders vanished around the bend.
A few minutes later, that nearly invisible gel balloon drifted slowly past above the cliff beside the mountain road.
Nilly leaned on the edge and peered down at the campsite and bloodstains, sneering a little. “These orcs are pathetic. If we hadn’t intervened, half of them would’ve died.”
She referred to the explosion at the magic formation.
The timing was perfect: it dispersed the shadows and saved Geluomu’s life without revealing their presence.
Chen Yu’s voice floated through the gel body. “That’s the trouble with shadow assassins. Orcs lack experience dealing with them; brute force just fails.”
“So you secretly helped?” Elara asked.
“Just a handy favor.” Chen Yu wobbled his body. “We can’t let this squad die here. If they’re all gone, who guides us?”
The balloon drifted on, following the wolf cavalry as they crested the ridge and began descending.
...
The downhill route was much easier.
The ridge’s north side sloped gently; snow was deeper but the gradient was mild, so the wolf cavalry could run. Wolf claws sent sprays of snow into the air, leaving a white trail behind them.
Surprisingly, they met no more resistance.
No demon patrols, no New Sun sentries, not even a proper roadblock. It was as if the ridge’s defensive line had been the last real barrier — once breached, the path ahead was open.
They did not stop.
Orc warriors existed to advance, to fight, to accomplish the Shaman’s tasks. Doubt and hesitation were signs of weakness, and the weak didn’t last long in the tribe.
The wolf cavalry raced across the snowplain for two hours, until buildings appeared on the horizon.
Nilly glanced down from the balloon and then pulled her head back, rubbing her hands. “It’s warm. Do you guys feel it?”
Chen Yu felt it too; the deeper they went into the Forge Region, the warmer it grew.
“It’s so hot.” Elara removed her cloak. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat beading at her nose, hair escaping from under her hood and plastering her forehead damply.
Nilly also took off her cloak and slung it over her arm.
“This damned place,” she grumbled. “Northern winter is hotter than southern summer.”
Chen Yu said nothing. His divine sense spread into the surroundings, sensing the land’s changes.
The snow on the plain thinned into patches of slush, forming little streams over the stony road that gurgled downwards.
The roadside pines began to change.
At first they were the black pines bowed under snow, then taller spruces, then Chen Yu blinked, thinking he’d misseen.
Green.
Not the dark green of conifers, but a tender spring green you’d only see in spring.
Broadleaf trees.
He saw several oaks budding young leaves, their bark brown as if just waking from hibernation.
In Northern Territory — this cursed place where winter lasts most of the year — there were broadleaf trees.
Nilly had clearly noticed too; wonder leaked into her voice. “Are we really up north? It feels like we’re back in the south.”
They drifted with the wolf cavalry toward the town. The silhouette grew clearer: a church spire, a gate bridge, wall towers, smoke from chimneys...
The town was not large, but orderly: streets laid out in a neat grid, houses aligned like a chessboard on the snowplain.
Eisenburg, the city at the very edge of the Forge Region, the foremost line of demon defense.
The wolf cavalry did not attack the fortress rashly. They skirted the town’s outskirts and followed a river brimming with water, pressing deeper into the Forge Region.
Chen Yu’s balloon drifted above the town.
He glanced down, and then he saw it.
At the mountain foot beyond Eisenburg, there was a patch of green.
A forest.
In the Northern Territory, a land blanketed by ice and snow for countless years, there was a shaded woodland.
Beyond that, a meadow carpeted with flowers.
“There’s something strange here,” Chen Yu said with growing certainty.
The deeper they moved into the Forge Region, the hotter it became. Chen Yu no longer felt cold at all.
His gel body felt warm as if sunbathing, even slightly dry and restless.
That kind of heat at summer noon when the sun sits overhead, making you not want to do anything but lie in the shade and sleep.
They had only just left Eisenburg when explosions and clamor rose from behind — the orc main force had arrived.
Orc iron hooves easily crushed the small town, then streamed across the flowered plain behind them.
In an instant the whole region roared to life.
Strangely, though, no demon legions emerged to block them. It was as if the demons had simply vanished.
Just as Chen Yu found this odd, Max’s hesitant voice came from the balloon.
“Your Majesty, why are there two suns in the sky?”
Chen Yu paused and looked up.
Indeed.
There were two suns.
One sat in the western sky, half obscured by clouds and dim, like a lamp running low on oil.
The other was like an apparition directly above the Forge Region, emitting piercing light.
It hadn't been there moments ago, as if it had just risen.
The orc horde noticed it too.
They quickened their pace: thousands of orcs and wolves drawing a gray line across the snowplain like a cleaving blade, crushing toward the Forge Region.
The Forge Region had become the storm’s center; everything converged here.
“Stick close.”
Above them, the slime balloon bobbed along.
On this grim battlefield it looked oddly comical.