North of Long-Term Farm, an abandoned town.
Light snow rode the howling north wind, making the roadside branches sway gently.
A truck carrying a quadruple-mounted anti-aircraft gun in its rear compartment was hidden at the edge of the woods, its row of cannons aimed at the snowy plain to the north.
Beside the truck, Gray Wolf held up binoculars and stared northward. Anxiety crept onto his face as he kept muttering under his breath.
"This is impossible..."
By all rights, after he fired the signal flare, a hundred-man unit should have set out from Far Creek Town and rushed to Long-Term Farm to help him reinforce the fortress's defenses. The follow-up troops and supplies would then gradually move to Long-Term Farm, bringing the entire northern suburbs into the Bonechewer Tribe's territory.
Yet it was already noon the next day.
Forget a hundred-man unit—he had not even seen the shadow of a single person coming from the north.
A flicker of anger flashed through Gray Wolf's eyes. He felt that he had been deceived.
Clearly, Lion Fang, who had handed him the flare gun, had never intended to send reinforcements. From the very moment they had set out, Lion Fang had probably treated him and his men as cannon fodder.
But why?
Gray Wolf could not understand Lion Fang's reason for doing this.
If that idiot's intelligence suggested that he had no chance of taking this place, why agree to let him take the risk in the first place?
Even if he was an outsider, he was still fighting strength, and he considered himself no weakling. No matter how hard he racked his brains, he could not figure out why Lion Fang had chosen to abandon him.
Liu Ding, standing beside him, showed no surprise at all.
Before setting out, the