After the winged scouts repeatedly confird that there were no Demon Race spies in the vicinity, a hundred-man squad quietly left Golden Valley City.
This team was led jointly by Angela and Morton Baron, and included Puki Masters and winged people, among others, beastn skilled in reconnaissance. This was practically the limit of defense forces Golden Valley City could spare.
Everyone prayed for the team’s safe return.
The type of Puki brought by the team all had tentacles and magic storage capabilities.
The forr was necessary for transporting items, while the latter was crucial because this was a mission away from fungal mats; without magic storage, Puki would starve to death halfway through.
Fortunately, although Puki’s skills aren’t fixed, these two features are relatively common, so gathering a team wasn’t an issue.
The Puki Master’s control range over Puki is roughly three hundred ters. Beyond this range, they beco sluggish or simply ignore commands.
Therefore, these round creatures were now trotting alongside the team, closely hanging onto their respective masters.
As they marched, a Puki Master couldn’t help but tap the shoulder of a colleague in front: "Your Puki mixed into my group, ssing up my formation, get it under control."
The Puki Master ahead didn’t even turn his head, replying impatiently: "Mine’s all on the right; that belongs to soone else. Besides, what does mixing matter? When facing the enemy, they’ll all rush forward in a swarm."
"No way... I can’t stand an untidy formation."
During their conversation, the unidentified Puki quietly fell back several positions, rging with the Puki group at the rear.
Watching that Puki disappear into the team, the Puki Master who raised the objection then commanded his Puki to rearrange neatly, nodding in satisfaction.
Tsk.
Really annoying, this kind of sharp Puki Master.
The Puki was naturally controlled by Lin Jun using Subordinate Control.
The Puki itself wasn’t peculiar, perhaps its self-destructive power was a touch stronger, but mainly it served as a cara to scope things out.
It’s undeniable that in such small-scale reconnaissance missions, the value of beastman soldiers was fully realized.
Not to ntion the advantage of aerial reconnaissance by winged people; only half a day in and winged scouts had already flown to Warrior’s Promontory and returned with intelligence.
As Morton Baron had said, the place had fallen; the winged scouts flew around but saw no living soul, only scorched ruins and scattered corpses.
Fortunately, no signs of the Demon Race were found; evidently, after plundering the place, the Demon Race had left.
Aside from winged people, most other beastn on the ground are seasoned hunters capable of analyzing various tracks nearby; even the least useful Mouse People are adept at sensing vibrations, alerting them to cavalry ahead of ti.
Despite this, Angela’s heart remained uneasy.
They were playing a dangerous ga of hide and seek, attempting to steal the needed resources from the predators’ territory.
If this hundred-man squad were discovered by any Demon Race troops, they would face complete annihilation.
At that point, perhaps only the winged might have a slight chance to fly back.
Luckily, until sunset, they encountered no unexpected events.
As the last rays disappeared over the horizon, the team arrived safely at Warrior’s Promontory.
The once thriving small port town was now just ruins.
Among the burnt houses, even the embers had long extinguished.
In the cold night wind, only the sound of demons gnawing on corpses echoed in the ruins.
Without resting, the team began driving away the feasting beasts under the moonlight, snatching away their dinner.
No one lit torches or used illumination spells; doing so would be like telling the Demon Race they were there.
...
While the subordinates collected "supplies," Morton Baron stood alone by a broken wall, repeatedly rubbing an exquisite pendant engraved with his family’s crest.
As Angela passed by, she overheard Morton Baron’s soft mumbling to the pendant: "My little Lucia..."
"Morton, what is this..." Though both were Diamond Level, obviously the Baron’s rank was higher.
Faced with Angela’s curiosity, Morton did not hide: "Marlon Gemstone, also known as the Bloodline Gemstone. When worn by close kin, it can sense each other’s direction at great distances. The other piece is with my daughter."
"Your daughter..."
After a brief silence, Angela gently encouraged: "The Demon Race has taken too much, but as long as we continue to fight, there is hope."
"It’s not just the Demon Race," Morton let out a bitter laugh. "Angela Commander, do you know how I spent forty years developing from a re knight’s squire to gaining that little unprosperous territory, establishing a family, and raising a daughter..."
"Last year, with the border in crisis, I donated seventy percent of the grain on my territory. This spring, again personally sending three hundred young n to enlist. I thought this would protect my land and family!"
He suddenly turned to Angela, eyes burning with fury: "And the result? When the army retreated, they didn’t even issue a warning! Using our lives to buy them the last bit of ti!"
Angela understood Morton’s sentints; their Golden Valley City was similarly abandoned.
However, she also understood the decisions above, sacrificing a small part for more of the group was typical.
Not to ntion the United Kingdom, even their beastman tribe operated similarly.
They were assigned to join the war, intended to be sacrificial parts.
The difference between her and Morton Baron was that she still had family in the tribe, her sacrifice was voluntary, whereas Morton’s clearly was not.
But understanding was one thing; she felt Morton was overly emotional when the task was of utmost importance.
Just as Angela was about to offer so advice, a soldier brought over a ragged-clothed human: "Sir, found a survivor; he says he’s from elsewhere, not local."
The man ca and imdiately knelt on the ground, not before Angela but Morton: "Ba-Baron! Thank the gods, you’re alive! Those who escaped said you were slain by the Demon Race..."
The newcor seed genuinely happy for Morton Baron’s survival.
Looking at the man kneeling, Morton sighed deeply: "I should’ve died in battle back then..."
Next mont, blade unsheathed, Angela retreated in reflex yet still took a cut across her right shoulder.
"You..." Blood stread through her fingers as Angela clasped her wound, "Why?"
Morton’s face twisted montarily.
"He got it wrong," his voice was dry, "I wasn’t protecting the civilians retreating then... I was protecting my family, and... I failed. So, I chose another path!"
As if to substantiate his words, dozens of torches lit up the surrounding darkness, heavy footsteps approached from all sides. A swarm of pign soldiers clad in crude iron armor and bare tusks surged forward, encircling them.
Morton quickly backed away, standing beside the leader taller and burlier than the other pign.
"Daddy!" A tearful cry echoed as a young girl was pushed roughly into Morton’s arms.
A gemstone pendant identical to Morton’s hung around the girl’s neck; she clung tightly to her father’s clothes, quietly sobbing.
The pigman leader grunted with satisfaction, a foul stench filled the air.
"Well done!" He patted Morton’s shoulder with his broad fingers. "Just keep showing your value, and I promise you and your daughter can live comfortably on my territory."
He turned to the besieged crowd, a mouth full of tusks grinning wickedly: "Sa goes for you! Drop your weapons, surrender, and you can live!"
Angela endured the sharp pain in her shoulder, slowly stood upright, watching Morton holding onto his daughter, never daring to et her gaze, sneering: "How ironic, Baron. You were just denouncing the kingdom for sacrificing you, now you are choosing to sacrifice us to save your daughter."
She snorted, raising her longsword steadily, the tip pointing at the pigman leader: "Surrendering? You filthy pigs reek, I can’t stand it!" (The Chapter was slow-writing, post-midnight update, read it in the morning.)
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