I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

"Why is everyone talking about the story of 'Bloodaxe' Eric's complete annihilation in Ash Valley? It's as if this western wasteland is destined to be a deadly place for us."

The generals were terrified.

Ash Valley—the site of a large-scale battle between the human kingdom and the demon race two hundred and fifty years ago. The renowned general "Blood Axe" Eric led an army of 100,000 to fight against the demons, but was ultimately annihilated, leaving no trace of his remains.

That land remains barren to this day, hence its name "Ash Valley," on par with "Ash Forest."

General Mac turned around to face the huge map of the empire hanging on the tent wall.

The map marks the locations of battles throughout history, with the words "Ash Valley" circled in vermilion ink and surrounded by densely written dates.

"The Ash Valley, located in the heart of the Western Wastes, has been the site of over eighty large-scale battles throughout history, the rights and wrongs of which are difficult to discuss. But historians have all noted that it was on this ancient battlefield that the rise and fall of countless demon kings and kingdoms were determined. Hence the saying, 'He who controls the Western Wastes controls the world.'"

His finger slowly moved from Ash Valley to the west, landing on the location of Koldeid.

"Back then, Field Marshal Rhein-Kleist, known as the 'Iron Marshal,' led the Imperial Third, Fifth, and Seventh Legions to converge at Kolde, and marched westward..."

His voice suddenly rose an octave, carrying a long-forgotten pride from an old era: "Twenty years ago, also on the outskirts of Kold, I had the honor of personally leading tens of thousands of soldiers from the Third Legion to conquer the Demon Clan's 'Bonebreaker' tribe—and achieving a great victory!"

The tent was silent.

The younger officers exchanged bewildered glances.

They certainly knew about the "Bonebreaker" tribe, a once infamous tribe of demons, but that history had long been sealed away in the empire's old archives.

No one dared to interrupt the general.

Because Mike's expression didn't seem like he was showing off his achievements; it was more like a ghost from another era recounting his past life to thin air.

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over every face in the tent.

“I don’t understand,” he repeated, his voice lowering, tinged with suppressed anger, “why is everyone talking about Eric being trapped in Ash Vale, as if this western frontier is doomed for us?”

He walked to the sand table and scattered the black crystal chess pieces representing the demon vanguard onto the position representing Kolde City. The pieces landed on the wooden map with a series of crisp sounds, like a sudden rainstorm hitting a roof.

"Twenty years ago, I led my army westward, and was invincible. Ten years ago, I guarded the western border, and the demons dared not look south. Just twenty years later—"

He paused, then his voice suddenly softened, so soft that only the adjutant closest to him could hear it.

"Is this where we're going to die?"

No one answered.

General Mike took a deep breath, straightened up, and his voice regained its iron-like firmness.

"No matter how you look at it—"

He extended three fingers, then clenched them into a fist and slammed them heavily on the edge of the sand table.

"The battle force is 100,000 to 80,000! The advantage is on our side!"

The tent curtain was suddenly flung open.

Alex strode in, his golden hair still glistening with night dew, and his silver-white light armor gleaming coldly under the crystal lamps.

Mason followed behind, his fiery red robes fluttering in the night wind.

"General," Alex's voice was calm, but every word was like a nail driven into an iron plate, "The 80,000-strong demon vanguard is not a rabble. They have a complete command system, siege equipment, and logistical support. Even if we win a direct confrontation, it will be a pyrrhic victory. Our goal is to stop their eastward advance, not to engage them in a war of attrition."

Mike turned around and looked down at the young blond man.

"Brave warrior, I will set aside your unauthorized intrusion into the military tent for the moment, but may I ask how many large-scale battles with more than ten thousand men have you commanded?"

Alex paused for a moment, then said, "...No."

"I've commanded." Mike withdrew his gaze and looked back at the sand table, his voice carrying a weariness that only he himself understood. "Seven times, four wins, three losses. The three losses were all because I listened to the 'Elite Raid' advice."

He picked up the silver chess piece that had been placed in the corner and clenched it in his palm.

"Your mission is to kill the demon commander, and my mission is to win this war. Each of us will do our part and not interfere with each other."

"But even if we win the main battle, how many men will the Third Army have left?" Alex stepped forward. "General, you know better than I do that those soldiers aren't just numbers; they—"

"Of course I know!" Mike's voice suddenly rose, causing the crystal lamp in the tent to flicker.

He took a deep breath and slammed the silver chess piece heavily onto the edge of the sand table, causing several black crystal chess pieces to roll to the ground.

"You think I wanted to fight this war?" His voice was low, so low that only Alex and Mason could hear it. "Back in the capital, the Prime Minister needs a 'great victory of his own' to secure his votes. You brought the Holy Sword, the elves, and the Church! If you win, it's your glory; if you lose, it's the military's incompetence. You'll never understand how precarious every step we 'old guys' take in the court."

Alex's pupils contracted slightly.

"Therefore, this battle must be won head-on by the Third Army." Mack loosened his grip, and the silver chess piece fell onto the sand table, rolling alone to the location of Kolde City. "And you, you'd better not try to end the battle before the main force does."

The tent was silent.

Mason gripped his staff tightly behind Alex, his knuckles turning white.

Alex remained silent for a long time, his gaze meeting Mike's in mid-air, like two knives silently clashing.

"...I understand. I will not interfere with your campaign." The young warrior paused, then solemnly added, "But I will not let the soldiers on the front lines die in vain."

He turned and strode out of the military tent.

Mason quickly followed.

Behind him, General Mike stood still, looking at the silver chess piece abandoned on the sand table, and whispered something that only his adjutant could hear:

"I hope... you won't be the next Eric."

…………

The night wind swept over me, carrying the dry, dusty scent of the wasteland.

"It's worse than you think, he's gone mad," Mason said irritably behind Alex. "100,000 versus 80,000? He's included the logistics troops and supply wagons, hasn't he? The actual fighting force is less than 50,000."

In fact, when Alex sent the messenger, he had anticipated that the Knights Templar or the Third Legion might have their own little schemes, so he split up with the priests and dwarves of the Hero Squad to communicate with them.

Alex did not answer. He looked up at the stars in the sky—the North Star, which represented "the hero," was faintly visible in the clouds, like an eye that was half covered.

“He’s not crazy,” Alex finally spoke. “He’s caught in a bind. Prime Minister William needs a victory he can control to win votes, while you and I… represent too many forces, and even if we win, it won’t benefit him.”

Mason paused for a moment, then sneered: "So he's using soldiers' lives to buy votes?"

Alex didn't reply, but quickened his pace.

"Go and inform Legolas." He remained silent for a long time before finally making the decision. "The plan remains unchanged. He fights his battle, we fight ours... that should reduce unnecessary casualties."

Mason watched his retreating figure, and the corners of his mouth slowly curled up.

"That's more like you."

The two walked side by side into the depths of the night.

Behind them, the crystal lamps in the military tent were still lit.

On the sand table, the silver chess piece stood alone amidst thousands of black pieces, like a star cast into darkness, its light faint but not yet extinguished.

…………

"Master~~, I've been following you for almost a day, I'm so sleepy."

Ji Tian ignored her.

"Master, how about you lift the concealment spell on me? I'll go tell them, 'I'm a demon princess who's been separated from my family for generations. Help me set up a luxurious tent, and get me a couple of small cakes. When I return to the demon realm, I'll appoint you as a great general.' What do you say?"

Upon hearing this, Ji Tian nodded, snapped his fingers, and dispelled the concealment spell on the other party.

He had actually wanted to obtain information through soul searching for a long time, but it was inconvenient to do so because his apprentice was there.

The Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Sect is a prestigious and orthodox sect!