"Scouts report that the main force of the Orks is still encamped dozens of miles away, with no signs of large-scale mobilization. However, small groups of scouts and raiders are active frequently, seemingly probing for weaknesses in our defenses, or perhaps... searching for something."

Lillens drew circles around the Orc camp on the map with his finger, his eyes sharp.

"My lord, I have a feeling that this calm is not right, like the stillness before a storm."

Linde's gaze also fell on the rough map, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the location of Greenburg.

"I know. Our defenses are being strengthened, but it's far from enough."

Recalling that heavy list of supplies, Lind said:

"We need time, but the enemy... probably won't give us much time."

"Lilens, have the scouts spread out further, especially to places with complex terrain and easy hiding places. Pay close attention to any unusual dark magic fluctuations or... inhuman traces."

Tell all sentries to be extra vigilant and to immediately raise the alarm at the slightest sign of trouble!

"clear!"

Lillens responded in a deep voice, making sure he remembered Lind's order.

By the time Lind finally got up and left Lillens' command post, night had completely fallen.

Bonfires and torches lit up the camp, dispelling the chill of late autumn and illuminating the soldiers' tired but still vigilant faces.

The distant castle silhouette appeared even more majestic and lonely in the night.

Lind walked toward the castle on the hardened dirt road, the shadow of Nix hiding beneath his feet stretching and deforming with his movements.

The noise of the camp was filtered by the night, leaving only the sound of the wind and the heavy footsteps of the patrolling soldiers.

The scarcity of resources, the predicament of the territory, the covetous eyes of the Orcs, the shadow of the Shadow Abyss... all weighed heavily on his heart like an invisible boulder.

The ease that Nix had felt from her progress on the training field had long since vanished, replaced by a deeper sense of urgency and lingering anxiety.

He looked up at the deep night sky to the south, in the direction of the Orc camp.

The brief calm is merely a lull before the next storm brews.

Grinburg, like a lonely lighthouse in the night, its faint light stubbornly resists the boundless darkness.

Time became the most precious and luxurious thing. He had to find the key to breaking the deadlock as quickly as possible, whether it was resources or... the power to turn the tide of the battle.

The shadow beneath its feet seemed to sense its owner's weight, and it twitched slightly, letting out a barely audible, soothing meow.

Linde took a deep breath of the cold air, suppressing his chaotic thoughts. His gaze became firm and sharp again as he strode towards the castle gate that stood silently in the darkness.

…………

While Lind was worrying about supplies and threats in the darkness of Greenburg, far away in the heart of the orc kingdom, the rugged and imposing stone gates of Silvermane City slowly opened in the deepest inky blue before dawn.

The heavy hinges groaned like thunder, breaking the silence of the ancient city named after the Silvermane Warwolf tribe.

A massive caravan, astonishing in size, emerged slowly, like a sleeping behemoth awakening.

At the heart of the caravan were dozens of domesticated giant sand-carrying beasts, covered in thick sand-proof blankets, resembling moving hills, their sturdy limbs thumping against the hard ground.

Each pack animal had a huge cargo box made of tough animal hide and hardwood fixed to its back, which weighed it down even further.

More goods were piled on specially made wagons pulled by muscular beasts or strong minotaurs, their wheels sinking deep into the ground, leaving clear tracks.

The caravan was flanked by elite guards on both sides and in front and behind.

Most of them were reputable mercenary groups from within the orc kingdom, equipped with fine scimitars, heavy axes, and studded leather armor, their eyes scanning the open plains warily.

However, what is most striking are the fifty silent figures in the core area of ​​the guard team.

They were not mercenaries.

These fifty orc warriors came from various races—there were burly pigmen with slightly protruding tusks, bearmen with bulging muscles and fierce eyes, leopardmen with swift movements and taut tails, and even a few werewolves with restrained auras and eagle-like eyes.

Their common characteristics are: they all wear standard, slightly worn but well-maintained lightweight chainmail, with uniform weapons hanging at their waists or on their backs; their steps are neat and uniform, and their silence carries a rock-solid sense of discipline forged in blood and fire.

They did not exhibit the lethargy or apathy commonly seen in slaves; instead, they possessed a suppressed sense of power and vigor.

A faint silver-level aura emanated from them, coalescing into a chilling aura of malevolence.

This was the "gift" that Nazra Adan had worked on for months to secure for Lind—a slave army composed of silver-level orc warriors.

Although there were only fifty of them, each one was an elite veteran selected from the regular army of the orc kingdom, who had become slaves for various reasons.

In the Orc Kingdom, Silver-ranked soldiers are already the backbone of the force. Such a well-trained and fearless team is far more valuable than an equal number of ordinary mercenaries.

They are the sharpest blades to break through enemy lines, the strongest shields, and the most crucial surprise troops capable of turning the tide of battle at critical moments.

At the very front of the caravan, a graceful fox-woman sat atop a magnificent, glossy black horse.

Nazla Adan had shed the disheveled and naive look of a few months ago. Her well-tailored leather hunting outfit, which combined orcish style with the convenience of human merchants, accentuated her exquisite curves.

Her long, silver-gray hair was no longer loosely draped, but tied into a neat ponytail with a silver ring inlaid with tiny gemstones, swaying gently with the dire wolf's steps.

On her sharp face, the fox-like eyes that once held a hint of cunning and unease now shone with confidence and competence, while deeper within them surged a burning anticipation.

She gently stroked the crystal bead that had been returned—the one Lind had given her.

The cool touch from her fingertips sent a warm feeling through her heart and an irrepressible flutter in her chest.

"It's been several months..."

She murmured softly, her voice drowned out by the panting of the pack animals and the creaking of the wheels; only she could hear it.

"Lord Linde, wait for me, there's more... a 'surprise' I have for you."

Besides the fifty priceless slave warriors, the caravan's enormous cargo boxes and wagons were laden with the abundant produce of the orc kingdom's vast lands:

A vast amount of magical beast materials: from the fur, bones, and claws of low-level magical beasts to the magical cores, tough tendons, and special glands of mid-level magical beasts, all categorized and piled up like mountains.

These are the foundation for crafting weapons, armor, potions, and even magical items, and are worth a fortune in human kingdoms.

Rare enchanting materials: magic-conducting metal ore from veins unique to the orc kingdom, exotic gemstone powder imbued with elemental power, and animal bone runes processed with shamanic magic... These are all raw materials that human enchanters dream of.

And a large amount of hard currency: crates of roughly polished but substantial gold and silver ingots, as well as uniquely crafted gold and silver ornaments and gems traded from orc nobles.

This is the capital that allows you to move freely anywhere.