Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 363 The Hunt Collapses: The Palace Carried Towards the Enemy Lines

In order to slow down the enemy's return and buy more time for their own fortifications, the Frostguard of the Elven race launched a variety of different ambush tactics on the plains.

Wyverns with venomous stingers and sharp claws, captured from orcs; elegant yet ferocious silver-feathered harpys from the Elven race; royal griffins capable of wearing heavy armor, sent from the Streammoon Federation; and the batch of silver pegasus sent by Archbishop Farrell of the Mistmoon Divine Court with red eyes and tears in his eyes… plus various models of reconnaissance and attack drones with different functions…

The air force of the Han Hai Territory is truly a "mixed bag".

It's not that the Vast Ocean Territory doesn't want to raise flying mounts, but the formation of mounts is greatly affected by the environment. For example, if the Vast Ocean Territory doesn't have a suitable horse farm, it can't raise a large herd of horses. If it doesn't have a suitable environment for dragon nests, it can't possibly gather a complete system of dragons.

Of course, another reason is that in Chen Mo's mind, these warhorses and dragons are highly likely to be completely eliminated in future wars, so it seems a bit unwise to invest too much effort in them.

It'll have to do!

An Elf wielding a compound bow against an Orc air force is roughly equivalent to a fifth-generation fighter jet capable of launching beyond-visual-range attacks against an enemy third-generation fighter jet, enough to deter the enemy's aerial reconnaissance troops from taking off.

So, they would steal a tent today, scatter some nails tomorrow, dig a trap the day after, and dump some trash the day after that. Despite Groom's repeated orders, the speed of the returning orc troops inevitably became sluggish.

From the large tactical map, it can be seen that the Vast Ocean Territory controls the speed of each reinforcement force. They will be controlled to be staggered into several different batches and arrive at the orcs' "Iron Hill", which is the area below 267.1 Highland.

It's convenient for Han Hailing to eat it bite by bite.

On the eleventh day of the siege and reinforcement campaign, the first unit returning from the north finally spotted the top of Tiegang Mountain in the distance.

The commander of the troop was named Val, a relative, confidant, and staunch supporter of Groom, known for his bravery and loyalty.

After receiving the order, he braved the enemy's relentless attacks day and night and the bitter cold to repeatedly force his way through the enemy lines. He was the first to cross the finish line and became the first target on the list of those to be annihilated in the Han Hai territory.

The main force of this group of orcs consisted of jackals, a type of light infantry known for their swiftness and excellent stamina. Therefore, they were faster and more agile than other heavy infantry.

They march quickly and run fast.

At this moment, the once fully-staffed army of ten thousand men had less than seven thousand soldiers left, and most of the auxiliary troops had scattered, leaving only a little over two thousand. However, Val could no longer care about these things. After stepping onto this battlefield, he immediately began to try to contact Lord Groom and accept the warlord's command.

However, the troops in the vast sea were already getting impatient.

Having been keeping a close watch on the enemy and having long prepared an encirclement based on their movements, the First Brigade of the Hanhai Army couldn't wait to launch an attack.

This was the first truly coordinated offensive operation between the Han Hai Command and the Naga Sea Clan. The Sea Clan deployed seven Gilling Guards, Han Hai deployed four battalions, and the city defense army deployed two battalions, launching a pressing attack from all directions.

The outcome of this battle was a foregone conclusion.

After using long-range weapons to disrupt the opponent's basic defensive formation, the task of attacking the stronghold was handed over to the sea creatures, based on the idea of ​​conserving ammunition.

The gnolls' weapons have difficulty penetrating the armor of the sea warriors, while the Naga royal guards' tridents can take two or three lives with each swing.

Whenever the gnolls instinctively retreat and try to regroup, the vast ocean's long-range firepower extends and fires precisely, shattering the orcs' gathering resistance like smashing an eggshell with a hammer, allowing the ferocious sea creatures to continue to slaughter them.

When the sea creatures finally broke through the gnoll lines with an exchange ratio of almost one to sixteen, the battle turned into a one-sided massacre.

The entire battle lasted four hours, and of the more than nine thousand gnolls and their vassals, less than a thousand ultimately managed to escape into the wilderness.

In the chaos of battle, Commander Val was spotted by a tall Naga royal guard whose sharp trident pierced through his breastplate and lifted him high into the air.

This "trophy" was displayed in the wilderness at the foot of the mountain for several days until the decaying body could no longer support it, and finally broke in two, falling into the mud of the field.

The orcs' morale and fighting spirit plummeted.

On the seventeenth day of the siege and reinforcement campaign, the second reinforcement force—a mixed force of bear and wolf tribes from the "Blood Howl" tribe, numbering about 12,000—suffered a devastating blow as it crossed the river.

This time, thanks to the effectiveness of the southern troop storage pool, the [Xilan] was able to free itself from its duties of guarding and protecting the sea creatures and directly participate in the siege.

The weapon configuration of the shallow-water gunboat is not particularly extravagant, and its kill efficiency per unit time is not high. Given the firepower density of the Han Hai Territory, any company of firearms could easily surpass it.

But as this steel behemoth slowly sailed along the river, its massive form appeared like a moving mountain to the orcs, and the psychological impact it brought far exceeded its actual firepower.

Even worse, the orcs were unable to fight back against the [Xilan] and could only be beaten unilaterally.

The river-crossing operation collapsed instantly, triggering a massive, avalanche-like rout. The troops were completely disorganized near the river, and terrified orc soldiers abandoned their weapons and fled across the hills and plains.

What followed was a ruthless and efficient pursuit and extermination by the sea tribe warriors and the light cavalry of the vast ocean. In the end, less than one in ten orcs managed to escape.

At this point, Groom's last hope was completely shattered.

As reinforcements on the periphery were eliminated one after another, Groom realized with alarm that his situation was deteriorating rapidly.

Before this, their own scouts could "bravely" break out of the encirclement under the cover of night to issue their orders. The troops could also intermittently take advantage of the enemy's large encirclement and the weakness of individual areas to complete small-scale resupply tasks such as fetching water by using feints.

But as reinforcements were defeated one after another, the noose around his neck tightened more and more.

With supplies cut off and food supplies dwindling, the orcs began slaughtering wounded war wolves and kodo beasts.

The enemy's defenses suddenly became incredibly strong, and the attacking troops could no longer get close to the water source. The pools on the mountain that had been filled with melted snow had dried up, and the soldiers seemed to have nothing left to drink except urine and blood.

The strangest thing was that their elite troops couldn't break through no matter how hard they tried, but the orcish routs on the outer perimeter always managed to penetrate the defenses and rush up the mountain.

These guys, who have lost their spirit and all fighting will, are not only bringing themselves one bad news after another, but also accelerating the depletion of the mountain's already dwindling resources.

At this point, even if Groom was unwilling, he had to admit that he had completely fallen into a trap set by the enemy.

When did this battle start to get so bad?

Grum, whose mind was already somewhat hazy, struggled to lift his head and look down at the gray, misty mountains below.

The orc general is currently suffering from a combination of injuries and illnesses.

During this period, Groom, unwilling to sit idly by and wait for his death, launched two breakouts to the south and also tried to meet reinforcements to the north. Each time, he personally took up the thousand-forged battle axe bestowed upon him by the Beast King and fought on the front lines.

He didn't die, but he was seriously injured.

Even more deadly was that the projectiles fired by the enemy's strange long-range weapons were not as easy to pull out or dig out as traditional arrows. Instead, numerous tiny metal particles or fragments would seep deep into the body through cracks or gaps in the armor, leaving the accompanying shamans helpless.

“My lord, we can’t get them out unless we cut your body open completely… They’re too deep and too fragmented.”

These metal fragments were quite heavy, and despite losing a lot of blood over the past few days, Groom had gained a considerable amount of weight.

Even more deadly was that some bullets penetrated what appeared to be internal organs, causing massive damage.

Even though the witch doctors placed healing totems around Grum all day long, they could not stop the injury from worsening.

Groom is now experiencing intermittent comas and high fever.

Once again, Groom was awakened by excruciating pain that felt like his abdomen was being torn apart.

After the bandages were removed, a foul stench filled the air. The shamans, having exhausted all their herbs, could only desperately apply healing totems to the wounds, hoping for that faint, elusive miracle.

Groom looked down and saw that the wound on his abdomen had become a horrifying sight, with the skin a dark purple-black color, the edges swollen and shiny, and the center a hole constantly oozing yellowish-green pus.

The rotting flesh rolled outwards, and one could almost see the slightly wriggling tissue inside. Most horrifyingly, dark red lines crawled around the wound, spreading like a spider web towards the chest and arm—

This is a classic sign of depleted bloodlines, known in ancient orc legends as the "kiss of death."

"It hurts...it hurts...give me the medicine..."

Groom's voice was hoarse, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat. The high fever had blurred his vision, and he could see double.

"Commander, Commander, we...we've run out of medicine!"

"And...and there's something 'dirty' in this wound, resisting the totem's power...We...we're powerless to do anything about it..."

Groom tried to lift his body, but a sharp pain made his vision go black. He could feel the decay spreading deep into his body, devouring his life force every second.

"I can't wait any longer..." he muttered to himself, "If I wait any longer, I'll rot and die here."

"Shaman... Shaman, give me Bloodlust!"

"Give the order..." He took a deep breath and roared with all his might, "Everyone who can still lift a weapon, charge with me!" "One last time! Charge! Either break through or die on the battlefield!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

At 3 p.m., the thunderous sound of war drums echoed from Tiegang.

This wasn't a rhythmic marching drumbeat, but a frenzied, chaotic, almost desperate pounding. With the drumbeats, the remnants of the orc army began to assemble. They were emaciated, filthy, their eyes bloodshot, yet their very bones exuded a final, fierce courage.

Groom stepped out of the military tent, draped in a blood-stained bearskin cloak, his left hand hanging limply at his side, his right hand gripping the massive double-edged battle axe, and issued his final declaration of desperation.

Several shamans surrounded him, performing a wild dance and channeling the light of bloodlust into his collapsing body. This spell temporarily suppressed the excruciating pain. The intense heat flushed his face, and a flicker of light shone in his cloudy eyes, giving him a somewhat "rejuvenated" appearance.

"Warriors..." he gasped, raising his battle axe—a simple movement that made his body sway violently, "For the Horde...for glory..."

He couldn't lift it anymore! He could only manage to lift it halfway before his arm began to tremble violently, and he staggered and fell straight forward!
"warlord!"

The lieutenant beside him swiftly grabbed him, glanced at Groom who was already in a semi-conscious state, and roared with all his might, "The commander-in-chief has ordered! Charge! Slaughter all those despicable bastards down the mountain!"

Then, the lieutenant and several guards carried the almost unconscious Groom onto the huge and luxurious "Skullcrusher Palace," swaying as they lined up at the very back of the army, driving the orcs in front to launch a desperate charge.

At this moment, there was no longer any distinction between the vanguard and the rearguard, or the main force and flanks. All the orcs on the hilltop poured down like a flood bursting its banks, carrying the last vestiges of their wildness, and charged toward the defensive line at the foot of the mountain.

The defense line at the foot of the mountain was instantly subjected to tremendous pressure.

Before the first trench, the Naga royal guards' shield wall was breached by the orcs using corpses to forcefully smash through it. Ignoring the tridents piercing their bodies, the berserk bear warriors used their last strength to embrace the Naga, rolling together on the battlefield.

More orcs leaped over the obstacles, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, and charged toward the human positions behind them.

"Fire! Open fire across the entire front!"

Machine guns spat long tongues of fire, grenades traced elegant arcs through the air, and mortar shells rained down, exploding into bursts of blood amidst the charging tide. But the orcs were completely enraged; they charged through the hail of bullets, their flesh and blood traversing the death zone, falling row after row!

The orcs' desperate act displeased the officers of the Vast Ocean Territory.

The strategy is to besiege the stronghold and attack the reinforcements. The reinforcements haven't even been dealt with yet, so why are you, the "stronghold," coming out to join the fray?

Why don't you just be a magnet and behave yourself?
Well, it seems that no one has considered the possibility that the enemy general will die. It seems that everyone thinks that as long as the Han Hai Territory does not behead the enemy, the enemy leader will be fine.

The truth is, Groom couldn't hold on any longer; his body collapsed before his army.

Groom was briefly jolted awake once in the middle of the incident.

The plains swayed in his eyes, and the sounds of fighting, explosions, and screams seemed to be muffled, as if separated by a thick layer of water.

He tried to open his eyes wide.

The palace was still moving, still moving northward, but there were no more guards around. All that remained were the laborers chained to the "Skullcrusher's Palace".

These strong orc laborers were once a symbol of power in Groom. They were tall and strong, and were treated better than ordinary orc captains. Even when they were besieged on the mountain and their water and food supplies were running out, these laborers were the last to run out of food.

Now, carrying Grum, they are marching towards the Han Navy's position, where the red flag is flying, under the watchful eyes of the enemy.

Groom suddenly woke up.

“What are you doing…” Grum roared furiously, but his voice was weak and hoarse.

Hearing the sound, a laborer carrying the front pole slowly turned his head.

He was an older bear-type orc, his face covered in scars, one eye blind, but the other burning with a light that Groom had never seen before—not fear, not obedience, but a cold, deep-seated hatred that had been brewing for countless years.

Grum vaguely remembered this face. Many years ago, during the war to unify the northern tribes, he was a small tribal chief, brave and difficult.

Groom defeated and captured him, piercing his shoulder blade with a steel chain and permanently binding him to the foremost palanquin pole of the Skullcrusher's Palace.

Groom likes this—making his former rivals carry him forward like the lowest of animals.

"The general has woken up!" the old laborer said, his voice as still as water.

“Stop…I command you…stop…” Grum tried to sit up, but the wound in his abdomen was tearing with pain. The effects of the Bloodlust spell had worn off, and the pain and weakness surged back like a tide, almost causing him to faint again.

"You... lowly... scum..." Groom cursed, his voice growing weaker and weaker, "When I'm healed... I'll skin you all... one by one..."

"You're not going to recover," the old laborer said calmly. "Your army is finished, and so are you!"

"No...impossible..."

"I am the Skull Crusher... I am a general personally appointed by the Beast King... I have just won a glorious victory!"

"I am the victor, you...you cannot..."

“We can,” another laborer chimed in, a young gnoll.

"General, among the bones in your sedan chair are my father, my wife, and my unborn child..."

The young orc gently stroked a skull that had been reduced to bones: "I was locked up here, not to die with them, just to wait for this day. I want to see it with my own eyes, to see how you meet your sordid end."

"Thank God, thank that great God whose name I do not know, for letting me live to see this day!"

"No...don't do this..."

The immense panic completely shattered Groom. The arrogance and ferocity that belonged to the orc general vanished, replaced by the most primal trembling and fear in his extreme physical weakness.

"No, I can't die, my children... my children are waiting for me, if I can't go back, they will be eaten!"

"Please..." Groom's tears, mixed with blood, streamed down his face, "Let me go..."

"I'll give you money... I'll give you freedom... I'll give you anything..."

"Please!"

“It’s too late, General.” The old laborer shook his head. “It was too late from the day you locked us in the sedan chair.”

Groom felt a rush of blood to his head, and he passed out again. His last thought was—who was it that said, "Don't offend your coachman!"
Later, the massive "Skullcrusher Palace" entered the territory of the Vast Ocean Territory. The unconscious and dying orc warlord Grum became the highest-ranking enemy general captured by the Vast Ocean Territory in this battle and since its establishment.

This highly dramatic and symbolic scene was captured in its entirety by a war photographer accompanying the army. The photograph, titled "Whose Shackles," depicting "slave laborers carrying the orc overseer toward the light," became one of the most famous scenes in the propaganda of the Vast Ocean Territory.

It is both a symbol of the military victory of the Han Hai Territory and a tribute to the resistance of the oppressed.

However, at this moment, this guy was on the verge of death. What should be done with him? Several commanders at the front line had a heated argument.

The sea creature tide sorcerer Xilan, who had inflicted many Naga warriors at this guy's hands, shouted softly, "Kill! Kill him!"

Liu Zaiyue felt that this kind of thing should just be left to its own devices.

The human officers of the First Brigade believed that they should try to save him first, given his special status, and that the final decision on how to handle him should be made by the lord.

Generals like Harmon, who came from the original orcish servant army, dared not speak at all.

There was no other way but to ask Chen Mo for instructions.

Chen Mo pondered for a moment before giving his reply.

"Give them the medicine first; if they can save them, then do so."

"Then bring them back!"

"The public trial I've been preparing for is missing a sufficiently influential orc general, and this one is perfect!"

"Perfect, let all the humans on the White Deer Plains see for themselves that the invincible orc warlord they admire, stripped of his armor and fearsome reputation, is essentially nothing more than..."

"Just a beast that bleeds, feels fear, and rots."

(End of this chapter)