Andorra Peninsula

Dragon Spine Province, Golden Tent Royal Court.

Ever since reinforcements from the Holy Glory Empire arrived, the fighting on the front lines had suddenly intensified.

Several attempts to send troops south had been repelled by the enemy.

The good days when they could plunder to their hearts' content were gone for good.

Now, every step forward cost the khanate's army dearly.

After more than ten days of bitter fighting, the front line had not only failed to advance, but had been forced back two hundred li.

Judging by distance alone, a mere two hundred li was nothing to speak of, but the front line did not lie.

The shrinking front meant that they were at a disadvantage in the struggle between the two nations.

There was nothing to be done. The enemy was fighting on home soil, with local nobles and their private armies supporting them.

Marshal Sebastian, who now commanded the enemy army, was also among the most renowned generals on the continent.

No matter how they tried to lure him out, their opponent advanced steadily and cautiously, never once recklessly pursuing glory.

The enemy advanced step by step, turning the battle into a war of attrition.

The supplies they had plundered could sustain the khanate's troops for a short time, but it was hard to say what would happen if the war dragged on.

The lack of progress on the battlefield had a direct impact on stability within the Golden Horde Khanate.

The anti-war faction, which had previously fallen silent, had grown increasingly active of late, and calls for withdrawal grew louder by the day.

Most of the Tuwu People had only wanted to follow the army and seize some loot. They had no interest in occupying Dragon Spine Province.

As for destroying the Holy Glory Empire, that was just a political slogan. Hardly anyone had taken it seriously.

By this point in the war, the Tuwu People had plundered more than enough supplies, and now everyone just wanted to take their spoils home.

After all, only spoils brought home were truly spoils.

If they were unlucky enough to die on the battlefield, all their wealth would simply go to someone else.

Apart from a handful of pro-war hardliners who still insisted on marching south and destroying the Holy Glory Empire, most of the Tuwu People had lost the will to fight.

"Jeremiah, was that idiot eating shit?"

"Thirty thousand troops from the united steppe forces, and he couldn't even take down one isolated enemy force!"

Reading the plea for reinforcements in his hand, Great Khan Silas could not help bursting into curses.

The fighting on the front was already going badly, and now he had been stabbed in the back from the rear.

Had he not personally appointed the commander, he would have suspected that the anti-war faction had deliberately staged this farce to force him to withdraw.

It was easy to imagine that if this news got out, calls for withdrawal would grow even louder.

In fact, he was not opposed to withdrawing; he was only opposed to withdrawing blindly.

They had obtained too much loot on this southern campaign. Taking it with them on the road would be military suicide.

If they withdrew alone, the enemy might not pursue them.

But if they withdrew with vast quantities of loot, the enemy would surely fight with everything they had.

One mistake, and an orderly withdrawal would turn into a rout.

Considering the khanate's overall situation, the best choice now was to deal the enemy a crushing blow and create the conditions for the coming strategic relocation.

At the very least, they had to hold the enemy back long enough to transport the spoils.

"Great Khan, the enemy broke the rules by using a curse. It's understandable that Jeremiah suffered a setback.

"The urgent priority now is to send someone to deal with the curse.

"Otherwise, if we allow it to keep spreading, we'll have a serious problem on our hands!"

Prime Minister Oliver urged him.

Since their Great Khan was cursing him, Jeremiah's problem could not be too serious. There was still room to save him.

If Silas truly intended to deal with him harshly, he would either say nothing or gently make excuses for him.

Whatever else might be said, Jeremiah was a commander of ten thousand and a general in command of an army.

To take down someone like him, they had to make thorough preparations and consider every angle.

If they simply ordered his arrest and drove him into a corner, he might well take his army and rebel.

The pressure on the front was already great. If they drove a general in the rear into rebellion and triggered internal strife within the khanate, they would be in even worse trouble.

The more harshly they intended to deal with him, the more they needed to placate him.

Knowing what their Great Khan had in mind, Oliver could naturally do Jeremiah a favor at no cost to himself.

"The curse may be formidable, but does Jeremiah bear no responsibility?"

"The more vicious a curse is, the harder it is to create.

"If that idiot Jeremiah hadn't stupidly jumped into the trap the enemy dug, how could the army have been lost to a curse?"

Silas said indignantly.

Jeremiah might escape death, but he could not escape punishment.

The curse could only explain the defeat; it was not a shield against everything.

"Great Khan, why not postpone the question of responsibility until after we've dealt with the curse?"

"There are plenty of bizarre curses on the continent, but very few can cause such devastating casualties and continue to spread from person to person.

"Every one of them is the stuff of legend, and the conditions for unleashing them are extremely stringent.

"The enemy spent a long time in the Dragonbone Mountains. Perhaps the mountains still conceal a secret unknown to us, and it is connected to this curse."

Minister of Military Affairs Bennett offered his analysis with a grave expression.

He had not doubted the reports from his subordinates.

They had fought the enemy with three times their numbers, and within their own sphere of influence. Apart from a curse, he could find no reason they would have lost.

"As for the curse, we can send the priests most skilled in curse arts to handle it, but there is no guarantee they can resolve it.

"Throughout history, whenever such a terrifying curse has appeared, it has caused many deaths.

"Even if the curse is lifted, there is no guarantee that those already affected will recover."

The newly appointed high priest, Xavier, immediately made his position clear.

The contents of the report from the front were simply too horrifying.

Even though he had studied curse arts, he did not dare guarantee that the problem could be solved.

As the storm continued to brew, Victor, unaware that the Tuwu People had been led astray, continued west with his army.

In the blink of an eye, more than three months had passed.

The army had marched from distant Heavenly Wolf Canyon to the vicinity of the Andorra Peninsula.

From the Third Supplementary Army's current position, they would see the sea if they continued west across the vast grasslands for less than a thousand li.

"Commander, the Tuwu People tribes run as soon as they see us. There isn't a soul to be found for a hundred li around."

"If we want to find a smuggling group, I'm afraid we'll have to try our luck by the sea."

When Victor heard Captain Brendan's words, he nearly sprayed the water from his mouth.

Looking west for a smuggling group and taking a ship home by sea had been an empty promise to bolster the troops' morale.

He had never expected anyone to take it seriously.

As the name implied, a "smuggling group" was engaged in business that could not bear the light of day.

It was one thing to do a little business on the sly, but if they advertised it openly, the empire was no pushover.

If caught, they would be sent to the gallows under imperial law for colluding with the Tuwu People to resell supplies.

These smugglers would be too busy fleeing at the sight of imperial troops. Who would be stupid enough to approach them?

Even if they were lucky enough to encounter a smuggling ship, and its crew was willing to cooperate,

Transporting the Third Supplementary Army's more than 6,800 men, over ten thousand warhorses, and various other spoils back home would still be an unimaginably massive undertaking.

Even without considering the wind and waves at sea, they would need dozens of large ships to carry so much in a single trip.

As for withdrawing in batches, Victor had never considered it.

The Third Supplementary Army was his capital for claiming credit and rewards when he returned home. If they returned in batches and the empire took them over and split them up beforehand, his value as acting commander would shrink by at least eighty percent.

If his value in securing their allegiance declined, everyone else's value would fall even further.

With no one in the military department to speak for them and no power to make their own case, they would be there just to make up the numbers when merit was assessed and rewards distributed after the war.

The best way to receive the treatment they deserved was to stick together.

The empire could ignore an individual's demands, but it could not turn a blind eye to those of an elite army.

"What are you panicking for?"

"We've made it through so many storms already. Are we supposed to be afraid of this last stretch?"

"If there's a ship, we'll go by sea. If not, we'll cross the Andorra Peninsula.

"So many Tuwu People tribes haven't dared block our path. Do a few measly ogre tribes think they can turn the world upside down?"

Victor immediately reprimanded him.

Going by sea was out of the question.

The sea was rough, and if anything went wrong, the entire army could be wiped out at any moment.

With his swimming ability, he was sure to die if a natural disaster struck without warning.