The Final Mission

The sky over the Ugo Great Prairie is usually cloudless and clear, but at this moment, dark shadows suddenly streaked across the sky.

—That was the Air Force Corps of the Embers of the Burned Empire, a special army composed of Wyvern wearing "Skyfire" armor.

Singo's chuckled voice came through the walkie-talkie, "Steamed Bun, you'd better be careful this time, don't turn into Burnt Mantou again."

Upon hearing this, the other Wyvern Knight also burst into laughter.

"Steamed Bun, how much experience did you lose when you died? Was it ten thousand?"

"Knew."

The Steamed Bun's face immediately darkened, and it replied irritably.

"What are you laughing at? If I hadn't paid the price to cover their retreat, who knows how many more people would have been killed by that muscular beastman."

"Alright, alright, you've done a great job, you're a hero among us, and you even sacrificed your life in a plane crash, so let's call you 'Lao Da' (meaning 'Great Lao')." Immediately, another burst of laughter came from the walkie-talkie.

"You son of a bitch—"

Steamed Bun turned red, and he stopped arguing with them, instead browsing the mission information on his own.

Their mission this time was simple: to destroy the breeding grounds of the Green-skinned Orcs and completely annihilate this race with its terrifying reproductive capacity.

The empire's Court Mage have already used magic to gather a lot of information: these orcs all come from the Bindler River, or more precisely, from the river's source— the Inafo Valley.

The valley was covered with dense green mushrooms, and almost every day, thousands of new orcs were born in that valley. As the dark green river flowed, the orc spores spread throughout the Ugo Great Prairie.

Looking at this information, Steamed Bun sighed, "I thought I came to Erezege to be a hero who saves the world, but I didn't expect to come here to Wyvern and blow up valleys."

Singo said, "The kind of adventurer you're talking about who honestly does quests hasn't even reached level ten yet. You should be grateful for your current strength."

Steamed Bun chuckled awkwardly, "That's true, that's true."

Suddenly, Curtis's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "Gentlemen, you are approaching the mission's destination. I have detected an extremely strong orcish energy field. Please activate the protective concealment system immediately."

"Yes."

Steamed Bun pressed the button, and a torrent of light particles was released from the Tian Huo Armor, gradually combining into a hexagonal light shield with countless faces connected together.

Under the cover of that light shield, the Wyvern vanished into thin air, disappearing into the air, and the sky returned to its usual clean and clear state.

It's important to know that the Empire spared no expense for this mission, embedding a scale shed by the Embers of the Burned Emperor into the interior of every piece of "Tian Huo Armor," containing legendary-level power.

Soon, Steamed Bun saw Inafo Mountain in the distance. This mountain, named after the orc war god, was exceptionally tall and precipitous, and its valley was unfathomably deep, exuding an eerie atmosphere.

"This should be the mission location." Seeing the valley shrouded in pale green mist, Steamed Bun swallowed hard, thinking to himself that this place was truly eerie.

Even with the School of Abjuration in place, he still felt his whole body tremble the moment he entered the airspace, and the Wyvern beneath him swayed slightly.

"The emergency braking system has failed!"

"The gravity system has malfunctioned!"

"Warning! Encountering magical turbulence! Magic defense system malfunction!"

The red warning words kept appearing on the screen of the Steamed Bun, and he panicked a little, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Holy crap, what's going on?"

Fortunately, the turbulence had not damaged his power system, allowing Steamed Bun to continue riding the Wyvern and avoid crashing into the orcs' lair again.

A jumble of noise came through the walkie-talkie, and Curtis's voice became intermittent. "You... whoosh whoosh whoosh... have entered the mission destination."

Please be sure to complete the task within three days. Click

With a crisp click, communication with the command center was completely severed, and it was unclear when it would be restored.

"This place is fucking weird!" Steamed Bun finally cursed.

The Wyvern Knight echoed, "Yes, thank goodness for the School of Abjuration, otherwise we would all have crashed like the Steamed Bun before."

"We need to be careful. There are probably quite a few powerful orcs in this lair, and there might even be a legendary boss like the one last time."

The Steamed Bun protested. "Can you please stop mentioning me? Hurry up and finish the task, or we'll all be doomed!"

Singo hovered high in the sky, constantly collecting data, and a clear map gradually appeared on its screen.

He shared the map with the others in the Air Force Corps and said in a deep voice, "That valley should be the breeding ground of the Green-skinned Orcs and the source of the Bindler River."

Our mission is to blow it up.

Deep in the Inafo Valley.

Everywhere was filled with pale green Orc Spores, the water was filled with a viscous, dirty, dark green substance, and the shadowy parts of the valley were covered with mushroom-like fungi.

Soro stood beside the Bindler River, gazing at the flowing water, and ordered, "Throw them all in."

"Yes, Great Chieftain."

The Green-skinned Orcs untied the blood-soaked sacks from their backs, which were filled with the mutilated corpses of orcs—heads with eyes filled with despair, hands and feet severed by sharp weapons, or torsos dissected open.

This place not only contained the clan leaders who plotted rebellion, but also the elite Fighter of various clans. However, at this moment, these former elites of the orcs were all reduced to pieces.

Three days ago, Soro displayed the heads of those clan leaders, labeling them traitors to the orcs.

Upon seeing those heads, the Red Blood Tribe erupted in uproar. The Pure Blood Orcs were horrified, and loyal Fighter from clans such as the Cold Crow and Frost Wolf were filled with rage, shouting insults at Soro and fiercely rebelling.

But Soro's army of Green-skinned Orcs had already surrounded the area, and these bloodthirsty Green-skinned Orcs mercilessly swung their blades, killing all those who resisted.

On that day, the orcs' blood stained the valley red, and the massacre was fearfully called "the Bloody Day" by the Pure Blood Orcs.

At this point, Soro had completely taken control of the Red Blood Tribe. Any orc who dared to establish themselves independently or even rebel against Soro should think about the fate of their kin who died in the massacre.

"Heave-ho!"

"Throw them all in!"

"Hahaha, these old guys!"

The Green-skinned Orcs were busy at work, throwing the broken pieces of corpses into their mother river— the Bindler River.

These savages felt no remorse for slaughtering their nominal "kin," but rather reveled in it and found it quite enjoyable.

They've long disliked these arrogant "old fogies."

Soro, arms crossed, stared intently at the flowing dark green river. "With the nourishment of these extraordinary orc corpses, even more powerful new orcs should be born. Five years, no, not even five years, just three years, under the blessing of the Father God, I can cultivate an invincible legendary orc legion."

When that time comes, I will first occupy Avendell Dan, slaughter Imperial People inside, and then lead my army to invade the Embers of the Burned Empire."

Thinking of this, Soro couldn't help but lick his lips, his eyes filled with bloodlust, and his hands trembled.

What a wonderful future that would be! All the humiliation and anger would be swept away in the endless carnage, and the orcs would become a moving scourge on the continent, bringing eternal fear to those hypocritical and weak races.

Beside him, Mok, dressed in black robes, smiled sinisterly, "Great Chieftain, the quality of the raw materials this time is very high, especially the corpse of that Frost Wolf Clan leader, which should be able to give birth to a legendary-level orc."

"Legendary level?"

Soro was initially delighted, but then frowned with some worry. "Mok, if an orc of that level were to be born, would it obey me?"

As the Great Chieftain who succeeded Batu, Soro's greatest fear was losing his current position and having his subordinates betray him.

That's why he ruthlessly killed those clan leaders and their followers to eliminate any future trouble.

Mok chuckled hoarsely and replied, "Of course, Great Chieftain, you are blessed by the Father God, and your status is far higher than these newborn orcs. They are born to submit to you."

Upon hearing this answer, Soro beamed with joy and crossed his arms, saying, "Of course, I am the one who will lead the orc race to restore its ancient glory."

Suddenly, Mok turned his head and pointed to the shadows in the valley. "Do you see that? Those are orcs born from the spores of the Rock Lizard Clan tribe chief."

"Sizzle!"

Suddenly, a bulge appeared in the damp soil, from which a sticky hand emerged, followed by a strong, green body.

Soon, a Green-skinned Orcs, nearly three meters tall and with a burly build, broke out of the ground. As soon as it was born, it looked around, its murky eyes filled with greed, as if it wanted to devour everything around it.

"Waaagh!"

It roared to the sky, and immediately, countless Green-skinned Orcs nearby began to howl, their voices rising and falling, shaking the very soul.

Mok pointed at the newborn orc and laughed, "My lord, you see, the newborn orcs were once incredibly weak."

Now, the orcs born from the bodies of those clan leaders are far taller and stronger than ordinary Pure Blood Orcs. They are natural Fighter and will continue to evolve in war and plunder. All of this power will be at your disposal.

In just a few years, we orcs will become a great race that makes the Feanso Continent tremble—no, that makes the multiverse tremble. At that time, Dwarf, Elf, humans, and dragons alike will all prostrate themselves at your feet.

"Very good, very good," Soro muttered to himself, his face contorted with fervor, obsession, and anticipation.

Just then, as if he had noticed something, Mok's expression changed drastically, and his brows furrowed.

"This is."

He slowly closed his eyes, his expression anxious.

Soro asked hurriedly, "What happened?"

Now, this Orc Shaman is Soro's right-hand man.

Soro wanted to rely on Mok to control the Red Blood Tribe and create more powerful and loyal Green-skinned Orcs, so he was quite concerned about Mok.

Mok opened his eyes, his tone grave and his voice hoarse as he said, "Great Chieftain, it seems that outsiders have intruded into the Inafo Valley."

"What?"

Suddenly, a fierce light flashed in Soro's eyes, and he gritted his teeth and said, "Damn it. Could it be Imperial People?"

"We must find that outsider! We must wipe them out!!" His voice grew increasingly agitated, eventually turning into a roar.

No wonder Soro was furious. Inafo Valley is the origin of the Green-skinned Orcs, and Soro regarded it as the hope for the rise of the orc race!

If even the Inafo Valley is gone, the orc race will be utterly destroyed, destined to live forever on this barren wasteland—and his dream of becoming an orc hero will be shattered.

Thinking of this, Soro's face contorted with rage, and he roared, "Even if it means Inafo Mountain Inaf, find those outsiders! Exterminate them all!!"

"Yes, Great Chieftain."

Mok nodded in agreement and raised the vine scepter in his hand.

In an instant, through the spores and mycelium that filled the air, hundreds of thousands of orcs around heard Soro's command and learned that there was a daring "outsider" in the Inafo Valley.

"Did you hear that? The Great Chieftain's order!"

"Hehe, outsiders, I wonder how it tastes to them?"

"I haven't killed anything alive for days, I'm dying of boredom! I'm determined to find the outsider this time!"

Upon hearing this news, the Green-skinned Orcs went into a frenzy. They searched every corner of the valley, wishing they could turn it upside down and devour the outsiders alive.

In the eyes of the Green-skinned Orcs, outsiders are not a threat at all, but rather a good thing that allows them to vent their bloodlust.

But they never expected that those so-called "outsiders," though located within the Inafo Mountain, were not hiding in the valleys, but were constantly hovering above their heads.

"So far—has there been no news of outsiders?"

"Not at the moment."

"How could this happen?" Soro sat on the bone throne, his face extremely gloomy, barely able to suppress the anger in his eyes.

His hundreds of thousands of orcs searched for an entire day, scouring every corner of Inafo Mountain, but still couldn't find the outsiders, or even a trace of them.

"Mok, have you made a mistake?"

Mok shook his head firmly. "Great Chieftain, I am absolutely not mistaken. There must be outsiders who have entered, otherwise the Spores Web would not be shaking inexplicably."

Soro slammed his fist on the table in frustration, demanding, "There are hundreds of thousands of orcs in the Inafo Valley, and we can't even find them? Did all those outsiders sprout wings and fly away—?"

At this point, Soro suddenly changed drastically, and he muttered, "Heavens! They're in the sky! Those Imperial People can ride Wyvern!"

Mok's expression was also somewhat uncertain. "Impossible, how come no one discovered them?"

"Whoosh—"

A piercing shriek echoed through the sky.

No, no—

Soro rushed out of the tent in a near frenzy, only to see a metal ball falling from the sky, heading straight for the source of the Bindler River — the Inafo Valley.