Attack

I'll be heading back to my hometown for the Lunar New Year soon, and since things will likely be quite busy, I probably won't be able to maintain the two-chapter-a-day pace. However, I'll do my best to ensure there are no interruptions to the updates.

Regarding the comments from some friends in the review section about me adding too much content at the end of chapters: I just want to say, in all honesty, from the moment I started posting this book until now, I have never once begged for favorites or recommendations. All those things were just to thank the readers who sent tips...

However, perhaps this really does affect everyone's reading experience? In that case, I won't add anything to the end of the chapters anymore; I'll put everything into a monthly thank-you post instead.

Well, as per tradition, I still need to thank the readers who have supported me all this time. Thank you all for patiently reading up to this point. Now, onto the main story—

Since the beginning of winter, the sky over the northern part of Darrowmere Forest had been thick with heavy clouds. After the sun's tepid rays were filtered through those dense, gloomy layers, only pale, sickly light remained, providing little warmth even when it shone directly upon one's body.

The Mossflayer Trolls' decision to hunker down and refuse to engage allowed the humans to build their camp without any interference. Before winter arrived, the final command post had already been erected, standing in the distance and facing the mountain forest where Zul'Aman was located. Once all preparations were complete, the human army finally drove their Blackpaw Gnoll captives forward to launch the first probing attack against the Trolls of Zul'Aman.

Of course, those Gnoll captives weren't being sent to their deaths for nothing; the soldiers of Lordaeron would create opportunities for them from behind the front lines using newly assembled small catapults. When launching an assault against their ancestral enemies, the Trolls, the humans certainly wouldn't forget their greatest advantage—weapons and tools.

Low, whistling sounds erupted from above the massive slope. After rough calculations, small stone spheres were launched with tremendous force toward the defensive structures at the valley entrance, slamming accurately into the enemy's fragile wooden fortifications.

Each stone sphere, half a man's height, traced a graceful arc through the air before crashing down with devastating impact. The wooden guard towers and palisades were no match for such an assault; they shuddered under the continuous barrage, and the Troll warriors stationed on the defenses could barely keep their footing.

The stone spheres carried massive kinetic energy as they smashed into the wooden walls, either piercing straight through the fragile defenses or shattering upon impact. The flying stone shards, lethal even on a glancing blow, unleashed a rain of blood among the ranks of Troll warriors, followed by a chorus of shrill, agonizing screams. As for those less fortunate, they were simply crushed into a pulp by the small stone spheres, sent off to join their ancestors.

Under the cover of the catapults, hundreds of Gnoll warriors held crude, giant wooden shields and formed ranks, slowly advancing up the long, sloping path at the valley entrance. Aside from a shield of intimidating size, each Gnoll was equipped only with a low-quality iron sword and a wooden spear.

The craftsmanship of the Blackpaw Gnolls was truly hard to compliment; what they called "shields" were merely tree trunks with the branches and bark stripped away, bound together with rope. Even Alvin, observing the battle from afar with a monocular, could see the occasional untrimmed twig sticking out from those shields.

But on the battlefield, practicality is what matters; no matter how exquisite the equipment, it's worthless if it can't protect your life. Although they looked unsightly, the wooden shields' solid thickness and wide cross-section were incredibly effective against the spears thrown from above by the Troll warriors.

The nearly six-foot-tall wooden shields allowed these Gnolls to hunch over slightly and remain completely hidden from the enemy's line of sight, leaving no gaps. While the heavy shields burdened them, they also provided a safe sanctuary; even the spears, which gained immense power as potential energy converted into kinetic energy, could not penetrate these shields, which were nearly a foot thick.

The defensive structures were battered into a miserable state by the catapults, leaving the gates wide open. The Gnoll warriors had already approached the ruined entrance, and the enemy's first probe had plunged the Mossflayer Trolls into danger.

"BOOM!"

A stone sphere plummeted from the sky, slamming fiercely into a guard tower not far to Hamia's right. Accompanied by the violent impact, the overburdened wooden structure let out a "crack." Then, the tower, snapped by the boulder, tipped over and fell directly toward the temporary Troll Warlord.

A thick cloud of dust obscured Hamia's vision, and he felt a sharp sting on his face. The young Troll warrior reached up to wipe his cheek; bright red blood mixed with dirt looked particularly jarring against his green palm.

I'm injured? We haven't even made contact with the enemy yet? With a look of disbelief on his face, Hamia slowly scanned the position around him, which was now littered with wood splinters and stone fragments. The low moans of pain and the sight of fresh blood tugged at his nerves, telling him a cruel truth—the Trolls' defenses were fragile as paper before the humans' "toys."

Although there were still plenty of reserve warriors, even a high-ranking warrior like himself couldn't guarantee safety against these boulders raining from the sky. The catapults brought the Troll warriors more than just casualties and destroyed fortifications; more importantly, they brought a drop in morale and immense pressure—no one wanted to fight the enemy while wondering if they would be crushed by a falling rock the next second, himself included!

"Damn it!"

Hamia let out a curse and began issuing orders to his subordinates, "Split off a squad to carry all the wounded down, bring in fresh guards, and tell the High Priest to send me another column of warriors!"

Halfway through, the temporary Warlord wore a ferocious expression as he looked at the group behind him—those wearing crowns woven from branches and feathers, with necklaces of animal teeth or skulls, dressed entirely differently from the common Troll warriors—and shrieked at the top of his lungs.

"Priests, Hexers, whoever! You spellcasters, find a way to take out the enemy's catapults! Our warriors cannot withstand this kind of attrition!"

In the open forest, a long distance away from the battlefield on the slope before Zul'Aman, Alvin lowered the monocular he had been using to observe and turned to look at the commander-in-chief of the entire force, Maxwell.

"The Mossflayer Trolls' wooden defenses are no match for the Kingdom's army. They will definitely try to find a way to destroy our catapults first. Shouldn't we send out more warriors to protect the siege engines?"

"Sometimes, sacrifice is necessary to achieve a greater victory. You are too focused on immediate gains, Your Highness," the young commander said, his brow furrowed as he shook his head, declining the boy's suggestion.

"A race that has endured for thousands of years will always have tricks up its sleeve that we need to be wary of, even if it has been a long time since I last dealt with them."

As he said this, the man looked up again, raised his monocular, and swallowed the second half of his sentence—If we can use a third of our catapults to peek at the opponent's trump cards and lure the enemy's elite into our encirclement, it is absolutely a worthwhile trade.

That was correct; the six catapults visible on the surface were merely bait. A cautious commander would never stake all his chips on the first probe. The accompanying squad of mages and the Royal Knights were already waiting as reserves on the edge of the battlefield, ready at any moment to counter the enemy's retaliation or breach the gates of Zul'Aman.

Just as they were speaking, in the human camp before Zul'Aman, in front of the massive catapults, a bright flash of fire suddenly erupted on this cold winter day.