Now that the route had been decided.
The next step was the specific strategy.
How exactly could he delay the High-Level Orcs' troop expansion and war preparations until the Western Front fired the first shot?
"Wait until my injuries heal a little, then return to Dragon City to bring in reinforcements?"
Meng Chao immediately rejected the idea.
For two reasons.
First, it was too slow.
Although he had drifted with the current in Tiger's Fury River, muddleheaded and barely conscious.
He could still sense that he had drifted for at least ten days to half a month, all the way from the super waterfall known as the "Guillotine" to the central region of Turanze.
Returning to Dragon City from here would not only mean traversing rugged roads, but also passing through the territories of many Turan clans.
All the major clans were now recruiting troops—or rather, rounding up able-bodied men and dragging in cannon fodder.
He was alone, his appearance was far too conspicuous, and he knew little of Turan Civilization's customs and conditions.
Even if he escaped the Blood Skull Arena, Black Horn City, and the Bloodhoof Clan's territory, he would be seized by another clan and sent to another arena, or drafted into the Cannon Fodder Troops.
If he traveled by day in hiding and by night, disguising himself as he crept forward, he might evade the slave-catching squads.
But at that pace, he probably would not even cover twenty or thirty li a day.
By the time he steadily made his way back to Dragon City, sorted through its countless tangled affairs, persuaded the higher-ups to act according to his plan, and returned to Turanze as Dragon City's envoy.
Turan Civilization's armies would likely have already converged into a surging, overwhelming tide and charged toward the northern