Chapter 126 The Deception of Victory and the Shadow of War... The post-war...

The morning after the battle, the campfires had long since died down, leaving only a pile of still-warm ashes. The surviving soldiers huddled in their tattered tents or rested in makeshift huts for the wounded, the air thick with the stench of blood and lingering fear. Only the sentries on night patrol remained vigilantly watching the distance.

Ryan hadn't slept all night. He walked through the makeshift morgue and stopped before a young body. Under the white sheet was a face he vaguely recognized. He remembered—it was the young guard he'd caught stealing canned food when they set off from the Duke's mansion. He wasn't that bad; he'd just been recruited, was young, and really craving it, which was why he'd done it. Later, after coming here with the army for negotiations and receiving daily canned food and white bread, he never stole again. He even saved some cans, saying he'd take them back to his father, a carpenter his whole life, so he could try them.

Now, he can never go back.

Ryan slowly crouched down, reached out, and gently patted the white sheet covering the corpse.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was very soft, so soft that it was almost blown away by the morning breeze, "I couldn't... protect you."

The adjutant standing behind him heard the whisper. Looking at Ryan's still upright but somewhat desolate back, he felt a pang of sadness. From this moment on, the commander before him was no longer the aristocratic young master who only knew how to talk the talk.

He grew up, but the price of that growth was thirty-seven vibrant lives that could never be revived.

The atmosphere inside the command tent was unusually oppressive.

The wound on Ryan's shoulder still throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in his heart. The red flags representing his own forces on the sand table had thinned out considerably, while the black stones representing the dwarven forces weighed heavily on his mind like a mountain.

“My lord, you should rest.” The adjutant’s voice was filled with worry. “The physician said your wounds need rest. Moreover… we have suffered heavy casualties, morale is low, and the dwarves haven’t made a move yet. In my opinion, shouldn’t we… consider retreating? This was just a probing attack by the dwarves, yet it has already cost us so much. I heard they held a victory banquet in the city last night, and their morale is high. Next time… next time they will definitely send more troops, and we… we simply cannot hold out.”

“We can’t retreat. If we retreat now, it’s tantamount to admitting defeat. All our previous efforts, including the lives of those thirty-seven people, will have been sacrificed in vain.”

“But sir,” the adjutant said worriedly, “the dwarves have retreated this time, but they’ve tasted victory and seen our strengths and weaknesses. Next time they will definitely send more men and launch a more ferocious attack. If this continues, our manpower will be exhausted sooner or later. We…we simply cannot hold out.”

“So we won’t fight them head-on.” Ryan’s gaze moved slowly across the sand table. He picked up a few pieces representing squad units and placed them around the Forge Court.

He raised his head, his eyes flashing with a calmness and ruthlessness beyond his years. "From today onwards, we will be divided into three teams. The first team, led by you, will be responsible for operations in the east. You will distribute food at different locations each day, but each time you will only stay for one hour. Once you have distributed the food, you will leave and never linger."

"The second team, led by Old Jack's cooks, was responsible for rapid distribution near the southern mine entrance and the well. Their mission was to get the food to those who needed it most in the shortest possible time."

"I will personally lead the third team as a mobile force. We will go wherever support is needed. At the same time, we will also be responsible for spreading the message that we are not here to invade, but to help those dwarven civilians."

He looked up at his shocked adjutant: "Remember, from now on, our principle is: run faster than the dwarfs, hide better than the dwarfs, so that they can never catch our main force, but let them hear our news and smell the aroma of our canned goods every day. Follow our rhythm, but don't find our pattern."

"What if they attack our main camp again?"

"Then let's run. We can't win a head-on fight anyway, so survival is the priority. Our advantage lies not in strength, but in mobility."

“Sir,” an old captain with a full beard stood up, “I’ve fought for twenty years and I’ve never heard of such a tactic. How can our elite troops of Kaslan be allowed to hide like rats?”

Ryan understood his thoughts; these veterans, who had crawled out of blood and fire, were used to direct confrontation and had an extremely strong sense of honor.

“Captain Rock,” Lane walked up to him, looking at him calmly, “you’ve fought for twenty years, how many comrades have you seen sacrifice themselves in pointless charges?”

The old captain fell silent.

“In yesterday’s battle, we lost thirty-seven brothers.” Ryan’s voice was heavy. “If we were to engage in another head-on confrontation, we might lose a hundred or two hundred. At that point, we wouldn’t even be able to find our way home, let alone complete the mission.”

He turned to face all the officers: "I know you think guerrilla warfare is dishonorable. But what I want is not empty honor, but for every brother who can still breathe to go home alive."

"Remember, returning home alive is the greatest honor."

A long silence fell over the tent. Finally, the old captain, Rock, slowly sat down, and for the first time, a look of conviction appeared on his weathered face.

"...I will obey you, sir."

...

Last night, the council chamber of the Crucible Royal Court was filled with laughter and joy.

Sorek held his horn high, roaring triumphantly at the equally excited pro-war nobles and generals below:

"To the Crucible Royal Court! To our great victory! Cheers!"

"cheers--!!!"

Everyone downed their glasses of ale in one gulp and erupted in deafening cheers.

“Warriors,” Green stepped forward at the opportune moment, his thin face flushed with excitement, “yesterday’s victory has proven to the entire continent that we dwarves are the true masters of this land. The so-called elite of mankind are nothing but a bunch of weaklings under our battle axes and warhammers.”

"That's right, Lord Grim is right! Humans are utterly vulnerable!"

“We should have pressed our advantage yesterday and stormed into their camp to wipe them all out.”

“Now,” Green lowered his voice, “the human camp is right there. They’ve been terrified of us. They retreated more than ten miles last night and are now cowering in a small valley, too afraid to come out. If we launch another attack and gather all our strength, we can drive them completely out of our territory and take back all their canned goods and supplies!”

"Yes, let's take all the canned goods back."

"Get the humans out of here!"

Looking at the jubilant crowd below, Sorek was also filled with pride and ambition. Yesterday's victory greatly satisfied his vanity as the crown prince.

"But..." Although he was somewhat agitated, a sliver of reason still made him raise a concern, "What about the human royal family...? Also, the elves sent envoys, hinting that we shouldn't provoke an irreversible war..."

“Your Highness, you are overthinking it.” Grimm smiled confidently. “The humans are just bluffing. They are riddled with internal conflicts and would never dare to wage a full-scale war against our mighty Forge Kingdom for a remote border. As for the elves…” A hint of disdain flashed in his eyes, “What can they do? Are they going to tear up the centuries-old neutrality pact with us dwarves for a few humans? This is none of their business.”

After the celebration banquet, Green returned to his secret chamber deep within the Heart of the Deep Rock.

He opened a hidden stone cabinet locked with a rune lock, which was filled with various grains wrapped in oilcloth and some bottles and jars with strange labels.

“That fool Sorek, does he really think he’s fighting for the glory of the dwarves?” He took a small bottle of colorless, transparent liquid from the cabinet, a cold smile curving his lips. “He’s nothing but a pawn.”

“When the war breaks out completely, and both dwarves and humans are exhausted, the food I have and… these little darlings will be the most valuable things in the entire kingdom. At that time…” A mad greed flashed in his eyes, “whoever sits on the throne will grovel at my feet.”

“Soon,” he said, looking at the slow-acting poison he had bought at a high price on the black market, “those stupid civilians will start falling ill for no apparent reason, and then I can conveniently pin it all on those damned canned goods of humanity.”

His laughter echoed in the sealed stone chamber, eerie and insane.

...

At the same time, in another room, several moderate elders sat around a stone table, the flickering candlelight casting their shadows onto the mottled rock wall.

"Sorek has really gone mad this time." The white-bearded elder sighed heavily, his weathered face filled with worry.

"How many warriors of the tribe sacrificed themselves for a so-called great victory? In the blacksmith's quarter alone, five young men will never return. Their parents are still waiting for them to come home in the mine..."

“What’s worse,” another elder whispered, “is that the royal granaries are almost empty. A few days ago, several more miners collapsed in the mine shafts from debilitating illness. That bastard Green, he clearly still has grain in reserve, but he keeps talking about strategic reserves and refuses to distribute it.”

“Strategic reserves?” The young elder Shi Dun sneered. “I think he’s trying to take advantage of the war to hoard food and make a fortune from the national crisis! I had people investigate him secretly, and his private warehouse is full of enough food to feed all the civilians in the city for two months.”

"Enough," the white-bearded elder interrupted the argument. "Now is not the time to argue about this. The important thing is that we must find a way to stop this war."

"If the fighting continues, forget about the glory of the dwarves; the entire kingdom will be dragged into an abyss of no return."

"But the eldest prince is in high spirits right now, and those madmen who advocate war have also gone mad with victory. In their eyes, we are traitors and cowards. Who dares to try to persuade us?"

Stone Shield suddenly stood up:

"Then let's go find the Dwarf King!"

Everyone looked up at him.

“Although His Majesty has not made a public appearance for ten years, I do not believe he is completely unaware of all this.” Stone Shield’s eyes burned with a resolute light. “Only he can stop Sorek’s madness.”

The elders exchanged glances, and all saw the same determination in each other's eyes.

“Very well.” The white-bearded elder nodded slowly. “I will go and request an audience with His Majesty. But before that, we must gather evidence, evidence of Green’s hoarding of grain and evidence of the true cost of the war.”

"Let Your Majesty see just how dangerous the likes of Sorek and Green have led our great kingdom."

...

Mountain Roads Outside the Forge

The messenger Mark tightened the reins, slowing his mount down as they carefully passed through a village of dwarves.

This was a hidden path he had to take after bypassing the dwarf checkpoint. The village was eerily quiet.

Mark saw a dwarf mother sitting in the doorway of a dilapidated wooden house, holding a child who was so thin he was practically skin and bones. The child's cries were weak and desperate, and the mother's eyes held a deathly stillness he had never seen before.

Not far away, several old miners sat together, a small piece of moldy black bread in front of them, carefully sharing it. There was no fighting, no anger, only a numb submission to fate.

Mark's heart clenched painfully.

On the third day of their ride, at the edge of the Cursed Mountains, Mark encountered a group of roaming bandits.

These people may have been miners or farmers, but hunger has turned them into beasts.

"Leave the stuff behind!" The leader of the bandits brandished a rusty axe, his eyes filled with desperate madness.

Mark drew his sword and looked at them coldly: "I am a messenger of the Caslan family. Are you sure you want to rob the Duke's mansion of its mail?"

The bandits hesitated.

But the madness in the leader's eyes overcame reason: "Who cares whose messenger you are! We haven't eaten for three days. Leave us food or leave us dead!"

After a brief but fierce battle, Mark, with several wounds, broke through the encirclement. Behind him, the bandits' desperate curses echoed.

He clutched the battle report tightly in his arms: How many more people will have to die before this war ends?

On the seventh day, at the gates of Blackrock City. Upon seeing the towering walls of Blackrock City, Mark nearly fell off his horse.

For six days and six nights, he traversed more than 300 miles of mountain roads, dodged the dwarves' checkpoints, repelled the bandits' robbery, and even lost his way in a storm.

But he did it.

"Open the door! Urgent military intelligence from the Caslan family!" With his last ounce of strength, he raised the battle report, stained with blood and dirt.

The city gate slowly opened.

...

Seven days later, Blackrock City.

When Mark finally delivered the letter to Lin Yue, he was almost completely exhausted.

"My lord... battle report..." he gasped for breath.

Lin Yue took the battle report and saw that there was still blood on the envelope, and his heart sank.

"You've worked hard," he said to Mark. "Go and rest. Hope you can eat whatever you want at No. 1 Store."

Lin Yue unfolded the battle report, looked at the casualty figures and Ryan's detailed explanation of the tactical changes, and fell silent.

"I didn't expect the dwarves to actually take action." He rubbed his throbbing temples. "It seems I underestimated their stubbornness and determination."

"So what do we do now?" Gray's voice came from the side.

"We need to be prepared for both possibilities." Lin Yue made a quick decision and stood up to summon several workshop managers.

"Mia, from now on, all production lines at the food processing plant will be operational, three shifts a day, two nights a week. Prioritize the production of sauerkraut noodles and braised pork canned goods. These two are the most popular and filling."

“Iron Bull, our weaponry must keep up. Ryan and his men are fighting guerrilla warfare now; they need lighter, sharper short swords and crossbows that can be reloaded quickly. No.”

"Also, contact Barry of the Clover Merchant Guild and Horn, the ore merchant, immediately and tell them that the black market infiltration plan is now officially launched."

“Auntie Leah,” he said, turning to the person he trusted most, “the logistical support for Hope Town and Blackrock City will depend entirely on you. No matter what happens on the front lines, you must ensure the stability of our home.”

"Of course, all the expenses will be charged to the City Lord's account. I believe Ryan won't renege on his debts."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

...

The food processing plant was brightly lit. Mia and her team of cooks had been working continuously for twelve hours. The huge steam boilers emitted a deep rumble, and twenty improved pressure cookers were operating simultaneously. Amidst the rising steam, the packaging team was working frantically at a rate of five hundred cans per hour.

"We still need 300 more cans of pickled cabbage and glass noodles."

"Ten boxes of braised pork have already been filled here."

"Get the next batch of dried meat ready to be cooked!"

Mia wiped the sweat from her forehead, looking at the canned goods being produced continuously on the assembly line, feeling both proud and heartbroken.

What we're proud of is the workshop's ever-increasing production capacity. What we're heartbroken about is that these canned goods are destined for battlefields of blood and fire.

“Sister Mia,” a young cook asked, her eyes red-rimmed. Her brother, a kitchen soldier, was also on the front lines. “If we make so much, will it be enough for the soldiers on the front lines?”

Mia said softly, "That's not enough. So we need to do more. So that everyone on the front lines can have a hot meal."

Sparks flew in the blacksmith's shop. Tie Niu was personally forging a batch of lightweight short swords. "This time, I need them lightweight, not heavy."

One by one, sharp short swords gradually took shape in the firelight. Each one embodied Tie Niu's hard work and carried the lives of soldiers on the front lines.

The nobles and merchants of Blackrock City also made their choices amidst this storm. Some initially felt it was none of their business and remained indifferent. But many more merchants sensed a bloody business opportunity in this war.

Lin Yue convened a brief meeting with several key merchants and nobles.

"Gentlemen," he said, getting straight to the point, "the front lines need a lot of supplies. We hope the trading company will be willing to buy your ironware, leather, cloth, and herbs at 20% of the market price."

The merchants' eyes lit up.

“But there’s one condition,” Lin Yue continued, “These supplies must be delivered within three days, and their quality must be guaranteed. If anyone dares to use inferior materials, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Under duress and enticement, Blackrock City's commercial machinery sprang into full operation for this distant war.

Lin Yue stood by the window, pondered for a moment, and suddenly looked up at Gray.

"Gray, would you like to go to the front lines?"

Gray looked up, somewhat surprised. "The front lines? Is there anything I can do?"

“Barry and Horn are shrewd businessmen, but they are heading to dwarven territory, a complex and dangerous route.” Lin Yue walked to the map and lightly pointed to the location of the Mountain Iron Kingdom. “They need someone with real combat skills to escort them. This is a good opportunity for you to see what real war is like.”

"I see."

“Take your squad,” Lin Yue continued. “Amu, Feiye… bring the most elite blue-vested men you’ve trained. The main purpose of this trip is to protect the caravan, but more importantly, to ensure your own safety.”

Gray frowned slightly: "We're all leaving. What about the safety of Hope Town and your place here?"

Lin Yue smiled and said, "Don't worry. Right now, all the workshops in Blackrock City are owned by Hope Trading Company and the City Lord's Mansion. The nobles and merchants here are waiting for me to sign off on their orders. For their own benefit, they'll want me to be safe and sound. As for Hope Town, there's even less to worry about. The elves will keep an eye on things for me. Half of the canned goods I promised them still haven't been delivered."

Gray pondered for a moment, then nodded: "I'll go back and make the arrangements, but I'll leave a small team behind to ensure your safety."

After Gray left, Lin Yue looked at the myriad lights of Blackrock City in the night.

"Auntie Leah, do you think we can win this war?"

Aunt Leah walked up to him: "Mayor, didn't you already have the answer in your heart?"

Lin Yue chuckled softly: "Yes, I have the answer in my heart. But sometimes, I wonder if doing this is too cold-blooded."

He turned to look at Aunt Leah: "Thirty-seven lives, Aunt. Thirty-seven vibrant lives gone just like that. And here I am, plotting how to exploit their sacrifice for greater gain."

“You’re wrong, Mayor,” Aunt Leah said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re not exploiting their sacrifices; you’re ensuring they aren’t wasted.”

Lin Yue fell silent.

After a long silence, he finally spoke slowly: "You're right. Now that we've come this far, we have to win. And not only win, but win beautifully, win in a way that leaves everyone speechless."

Outside the window, the night was deep. The lights of Blackrock City still flickered. And behind those lights, countless people were contributing their strength to this war.

The blacksmith's fire burned all night, steam rose continuously from the food processing plant, and the rock-walking lizards of the transport convoy moved silently under the starlight...

War is no longer a private matter for any particular lord.

It is closely related to the fate of every individual.

In Hope Town, in Blackrock City, and on the distant front lines, everyone was waiting, waiting for the dawn to break.

Outside Blackrock City.

Old carpenter John, his back hunched, was working through the night under a dim oil lamp, rushing to make a batch of reinforced wooden crates for transporting canned goods, commissioned by Lord Lin. He moved quickly, but every mortise and tenon joint was made with exceptional precision.

His son joined Ryan's personal guard three months ago, saying before leaving that he was only going to negotiate, that there was no danger, and that it would save the family some food. Now he is on the distant front lines confronting the legendary, fearless dwarves, and it's unknown whether they will actually fight.

"Take a rest if you're tired," his wife said, bringing him a bowl of wheat porridge.

“Not tired.” John shook his head, his hands not stopping for a moment. “My son is in danger at any time on the front line. If I make one more box in the rear, they can transport one more batch of supplies.”

"What's a little tiredness?"

He looked up at the distant south, shrouded in mountains.

"Kid, you absolutely have to... come back alive..."