A day later, the Vanguard Army Second Legion regrouped thirty kilometers north of Shattered Canyon.
The damage report was more severe than expected. Of the 50,000 guards, 27,000 were killed in action, 12,000 were seriously wounded, and more than 30% of their vehicles were destroyed.
But morale was exceptionally high, and every soldier firmly believed that they had witnessed a miracle and that the governor was under the protection of the Dragon of Frost.
Lynn offered no explanation; he ordered his troops to speed up their march and reach the Frostbound Wall by the designated time.
Inside the transport vehicle, Gus sat across from Lynn:
"My lord, the Snow Claw Clan has suffered heavy losses this time and should be unable to launch another attack in the short term."
But the question is, who leaked the marching route?
Lynn leaned back in her chair, her eyes half-closed. "What do you think?"
The answer was obvious. Gus didn't say anything more; he knew Lynn must have a plan in mind.
At the same time, Snow Claw Fortress.
This abandoned industrial fortress is located deep in the ice field, with its massive alloy frame mostly buried in snow, the exposed parts covered in rust.
Hundreds of years ago, this was Brevis's mining outpost. After the mines were depleted, the humans withdrew, leaving behind an empty shell that became a sanctuary for mutants.
Now, it is the nominal "capital" of the Snow Claw Clan.
Centered around it, thousands upon thousands of mutant tribes share the same hatred for the main hive.
They fought individually, but were united by a shared hatred, becoming the Snow Claw Clan we know today.
The largest factory building in the center of the fortress was converted into a council chamber.
A huge bonfire burned in the central open space, its light illuminating the hundreds of faces crowded around it—the leaders of various large tribes and clan elders.
Their faces were all grim, because more than three thousand people were kneeling in the center of the field.
These people were the only survivors among the million-strong cavalry army.
They were dressed in tattered clothes, injured, and, more importantly, their spirits had been corrupted to varying degrees.
Pupils dilated, lips trembling, some people scratching their faces repeatedly with their fingernails, or kneeling on the ground kowtowing to the air and chanting repeatedly:
"A dragon, a blue flying dragon!"
The clan shamans stood around, pressing their hands together and chanting soothing incantations.
Psychic Power flowed from their palms, like a warm stream flowing into the chaotic minds of the survivors.
But this can only barely stabilize one's mind; it cannot eliminate fear and contamination.
More than an hour later.
The eldest high priest stopped chanting and wiped the sweat from his brow.
He walked to the high platform on the north side of the council hall and bowed to the figure on the beast-bone throne:
"Chieftain, you may ask now."
Snow Claw Rain rose from the throne.
She was a tall female savage, over 2.2 meters tall, covered in thick white hair, with only her face showing rough, gray skin.
The white hair on its head was braided into dozens of thin braids, tied together with animal bone rings and hanging down its back.
She wore simple plate armor and had a stone axe hanging at her waist.
She walked from the platform to the first survivor.
He was a young cavalryman, his face still showing signs of immaturity.
"Look at me," Snow Claw Rain said, his voice rough and unlike a woman's.
The young man looked up, his eyes unfocused.
"Speak." Snow Claw Rain stared at him.
"What happened? How come only you are left from the million-strong army?"
The young man's lips trembled. "A dragon, it's the Dragon of Frost! It flew down from the sky, and people were shattered..."
"Nonsense!" roared a tribal chief in the back row. " The Dragon of Frost is a myth! It's long extinct!"
The young man seemed not to hear him and continued, "The purple snow makes my eyes burn; it looks so painful."
"Ah!!!" He broke down again as he recalled something.
Snow Claw Rain frowned and looked at the wizard.
The old wizard's face was pale; she had been watching the young man with her Psychic Power vision.
He wasn't lying; he was simply stating what he had seen.
Discussions arose in the council chamber.
Snow Claw Rain walked up to the second survivor, a veteran with three scars on his face.
What did you see?
The veteran's eyes focused slightly, but the fear in them was even stronger than that of the young man.
"Dragons, dozens of dragons, they drove us into the valley."
Then, the biggest one came, a purple storm that froze everyone solid, killing them beyond any hope of survival.
His description was more detailed, and even more absurd.
Snow Claw Rain's face grew increasingly gloomy.
Unconvinced, she asked dozens of survivors, and the answers were all similar.
A dragon attack, a purple blizzard, and over 900,000 people died instantly.
Finally, she walked up to a group of survivors who had just been brought in.
These men were in even worse condition, almost all of them insane; they were survivors of the third wave of charging cavalry in the Shattered Canyon.
It took the wizard twice as long to barely get them to speak.
"And you?" Snow Claw Rain's voice was filled with murderous intent. "You saw the dragon too?"
A half-mad cavalryman suddenly screamed:
"The Governor! That Governor! He commands the Dragon! The Dragon only listens to him!!!"
The council chamber fell silent instantly, everyone staring at the cavalryman.
Explain yourself!
The cavalryman, gesticulating wildly and rambling incoherently, cried out, "We were fighting so well in the canyon, and then the dragon came!"
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" He imitated the dragon flapping its wings, looking comical, but no one laughed.
"It only attacks us, not the people in the main hive. Luckily I ran fast, or I would be dead."
He then burst into laughter, but the laughter was maniacal.
Snow Claw Rain knocked him unconscious with a chop to the neck, then abruptly turned to look at the wizard.
The old wizard quickly stepped forward to examine the wound, and after a few seconds, he stepped back, his voice hoarse:
He wasn't lying either.
The only sound was the crackling of the campfire.
The myth of the Dragon of Frost holds special significance among mutants.
Legend has it that whoever gains the approval of the Dragon of Frost will become the true ruler of the Brevis Ice Plain — the Ice Lord.
That was the faith of a primitive era, a spiritual sustenance they rediscovered after being abandoned by their master.
Now, the myth may be coming true.
Moreover, the one who has been approved is the new governor of the main hive, who is rumored to have also received the Emperor's approval.
An elder spoke tremblingly, "Great Clan Chief, if this is true, will our attack on the Ice Lord incur the wrath of the gods...?"
"Shut up!" Snow Claw Rain growled.
She paced back and forth anxiously.
Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the elder who had spoken first:
"Any news about the noble from the mainhound who contacted us before?"
The elder quickly replied, "They sent a message yesterday, asking about the results of the operation."
"Tell him," Snow Claw Rain said coldly.
"The cooperation is terminated. Everything he gave you should be returned to its original source, along with a message."
A fierce glint appeared in her eyes.
"If he dares to lay a hand on the governor again, I will personally go to the main hideout and turn his skull into a chamber pot."
The elder shuddered. "Yes."
"And another one." Snow Claw Rain swept his gaze across the entire room.
"No one is to divulge what happened today. All survivors are to be held in custody and are not to leave the fortress without my order."
She returned to the high platform, sat back on the throne, and rested her chin on her left hand.
"Get ready, I'm going to see this governor."
"Let's see if he's even qualified to be our Ice Lord."