After taking the outpost tower, Liu Qian ordered Chai Yi to garrison it with three thousand soldiers, ensuring that the supply route to Tyrosh remained unobstructed.
Then Liu Qian and Jelena led the remaining four thousand five hundred soldiers and twelve hundred Dragon Spirit Guardians straight into the rolling depths of the Grey Mountains.
The Grey Mountains lived up to their name, as though covered in endless gray ash.
Steep cliffs jutted like interlocking fangs, and deeply cut river valleys resembled wounds torn into the earth, so narrow that only a few people could walk abreast.
The soldiers trudged through loose rocks and slippery mud, their heavy footsteps echoing through the deathly still valleys. Their marching pace was agonizingly slow.
It took them three full days to crawl like snails to the edge of the mining area, reaching a reverse slope at the end of a river valley hemmed in by steep mountain walls.
When Liu Qian and Jelena climbed to the crest ahead of the others, the sight before them caught their breath.
Below lay an enormous muddy basin.
Gray mist hung low, mingling with furnace smoke and dust drifting over the basin.
Countless low, filthy blue canvas tents huddled together, dilapidated beyond repair.
Even more striking were the enormous ore heaps scattered across the basin, like hills formed from a congealed mixture of black and dark red blood.
That was iron ore yet to be smelted.
To the southwest of the basin, an even grayer, browner range of towering mountains rose from the ground. That was where the ore actually came from.
Not a trace of trees could be found on the mountainsides, only bare rock and gravel.
Countless Lys slaves, as tiny as ants, crawled across those barren slopes, digging out ore with iron picks.
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