The short priest continued looking around, growing more convinced with every word that his idea was nothing short of perfect:
"Anyway, the flesh and supplies stockpiled in our branch are enough for us to burn through for quite a while."
"We'll hide in this underground camp for six months or a year, focus on building our strength, and bring in more fresh blood!"
"As long as we stay hidden, the Mutants roaming every corner of the Black Forest will be our natural barrier!"
"Those pampered followers of the Righteous Gods in Winterhold would never dare venture recklessly into the Black Forest to wage war on us!"
"Let them waste their time outside! After a few months with nothing to show for it, they'll naturally withdraw to the city!"
"When that happens, we'll emerge again, and the outskirts of the Black Forest will still be ours!"
Once this "far-sighted" turtle-shell strategy was proposed,
the atmosphere in the stone chamber actually eased in a rather peculiar way.
Many of the squad leaders who had been on edge just moments ago exchanged glances, then began showing their approval:
"How wise of you, Priest!"
"Exactly! We have the home-field advantage. Why should we go to their territory and fight them head-on?"
"We'll lie low for six months or a year, then go deal with them once we're stronger!"
"Brilliant! Staying alive comes first. The great Holy Lord of the Abyss will surely understand our strategic retreat!"
The core members of the Cultists actually accepted the proposal without a shred of unease, nodding and praising it.
Meanwhile, seated at the very end, [Give Me Your Phone] and [You've Cried Already] still maintained impeccably proper postures.
Their brows were tightly furrowed, their expressions profoundly solemn, as though they were joining their colleagues in an agonizing