Chapter 216 A Two-Way Reversal! War Begins! (4,000-word Chapter)
The first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds.
Led by the Grand Master of the Workshop and four goblin elders, the alchemical legion swept across the land like a torrent of steel.
As one of the four major tribes that emerged from numerous clans in the border region, its profound heritage was fully revealed during the war.
The vanguard, comprised of the most numerous Flesh Ripper Golems in the legion, shook the earth with every step. Behind them followed the Iron Rippers, Earthshatters, and other higher-level, fewer elite golems.
In addition, there were mechanical beasts equipped with giant cannons, advancing step by step with heavy strides.
Scott, the master craftsman, stood on the back of a mechanical beast.
He was the highest-ranking alchemist in the Golden Tooth tribe. Even in the Southern Federation, his alchemical skills, while not top-notch, still earned him a certain degree of praise.
He is now over two hundred years old.
Among goblins with an average lifespan of 80, he is definitely an old monster.
However, his appearance showed no signs of aging; he still looked like a young and strong goblin.
Moreover, unlike the exaggerated facial expressions of other goblins, Scott's face remained as calm as a mask. This unusual composure, coupled with his long lifespan, made him a 'legend' in the eyes of the tribe's people.
When Scott was born, the Golden Tooth tribe had already discovered the black oil fields and gained resources for their rise, but they still lacked the foundation and strength to develop cautiously and secretly. At that time, the Golden Tooth clan was like a beggar holding gold, both overjoyed by the windfall and fearful of being coveted by powerful neighbors.
Unlike other goblins.
As Scott gradually came to understand the world, he developed a fascination with alchemy.
He wanted to know the composition of stones, to know why metals could move, and to know the essence of the world. He had so many questions and so much curiosity.
The desire to explore and the thirst for knowledge.
In addition, there is his outstanding talent.
As expected, Scott became an alchemist. He leveled up quickly and was decisive. He would immediately put his ideas into practice. Given enough time and materials, he could even handcraft mechs. He soon became the leader of the Gold Tooth Clan.
After discovering a wider world, he thought that if he had been born in the goblin kingdom of the Lorthorn Federation, he might have had a brighter future.
It's not impossible for him to become a true legend.
However, Scott ultimately did not abandon the Gold Tooth clan.
Leading the weak clans in the border region to grow stronger and achieve glory step by step is also a legendary feat. He is determined to lead the Golden Tooth Clan through all obstacles.
At that time, the Golden Tooth Clan was weak and dared not expose the existence of the black oil, or even mine it.
Scott, as a high-level alchemist, can handcraft mechs, but it takes a long time and cannot be replicated in large quantities, thus failing to become the true source of strength for the Gold Tooth Clan.
So Scott took a desperate gamble and forcefully smashed the heads of all the rebels.
He nearly exhausted the entire Gold Tooth clan's savings to buy yellowed mech blueprints and an old, rusty Flesh Ripper from a merchant.
He studied day and night, gradually deciphering the structure of the flesh-tearing creature completely.
Another year passed, and the first Flesh Ripper production line was built under his leadership.
From then on.
The furnace in the workshop never went out.
The Golden Tooth Clan finally had a reliable armed force.
Slowly.
One after another, mecha golems were unveiled.
Under Scott's careful tutelage and guidance, goblin alchemists sprang up like mushrooms after rain.
The Golden Tooth Clan gradually developed into the Golden Tooth Tribe, and even the Serpent People, their natural enemies, gradually stopped recklessly hunting and devouring goblins.
As for Scott, he was nearing the end of his life, dying and old.
But after a period of seclusion, he came back to life and was reborn as a young man. As for the specific details, the other goblins had no way of knowing.
The tribe's alchemists whispered among themselves.
Some say he transformed himself into a perfect humanoid construct, while others claim to have seen him drink an elixir of immortality made from black oil, but all speculations came to an end under Scott's cold gaze.
Right now.
Bathed in the first rays of dawn, Scott gazed toward the approaching southwestern border, his face still expressionless.
As time goes by.
The legion crossed the border.
The Ironforge outposts located on the border were the first to bear the brunt.
An outpost heavily guarded by gnolls and kobolds was the first to taste the wrath of the alchemical legion. The mech golems' artillery fire shattered the watchtower, and the chainsaw swords tore apart the frail flesh and blood.
The steel torrent rolled over the outpost and steadily advanced towards the fertile plain.
Along the way, the Alchemist Legion was harassed and attacked by the Ironforge, but these attacks were of little consequence to them. All the attacking monsters were crushed by the mech golems and alchemy cannons.
Steel crushed the mangled body into a bloody pulp.
The Golden Tooth tribe's army dismantled line after line of defenses, and their banners appeared on the edge of the fertile plains.
The large-scale army march was quite a spectacle. The Ironforge's garrison was already on high alert on the Fertile Plains. Young dragons and flocks of dragons circled and danced in the air, while on the ground were legions composed of centaurs, ogres, gnolls, kobolds, gray-maned werewolves, and other creatures.
"attack!"
The workshop master coldly issued the order.
The midday sun scorched the armored vehicles to a fever pitch. The steel torrent of the Golden Tooth Tribe surged toward the Ironforge Tribe's defenses. The steel golems advanced in orderly steps, each step shaking the ground.
At the same time, the voices of the golem manipulators rang out through loudspeakers.
The goblin warriors who were following the golem also shouted out.
The furnace is our sanctuary, and the wrench is our scepter of prayer!
[Black oil boils in the veins, gears sing in the chest!]
Crush those flesh and blood bodies!
Civilization truly begins when the earth is stained crimson with the patina of copper!
The goblin's voice was not pleasant to hear; it was sharp, piercing, noisy, and not even orderly. Some of it was as sharp as steel nails scraping glass, while others were as hoarse as a grinding wheel polishing scrap iron. Yet, it strangely intertwined into waves above the battlefield, gradually creating an overwhelming sense of oppression in conjunction with the heavy footsteps of the alchemical golems and the roar of the engines.
Gold coins! Gold coins! Paving the way to heaven!
[Disassembling everything! Disassembling everything! Even the ribs of gods are priced!]
Today we write poetry with artillery shells; tomorrow we forge steel with enemy troops!
The smile of the master craftsman is the dawn of a new world!
The goblins sang loudly, their bodies trembling slightly, their eyes shining with excitement, their morale higher than ever before.
"They're no ordinary goblins after all; they have such high morale."
Galos narrowed his eyes, thinking that the Ironforge tribe also needed a war song.
"We might have a chance to win if we went head-to-head with the alchemy legion of the Golden Tooth Tribe, but we would definitely suffer heavy losses."
"However, we were already prepared."
The voice of Iron Dragon Sorog resounded directly in Garros's mind through telepathic connection.
Then, the war began.
The young dragons seemed to fear the alchemical legion, daring not to land or make a rash move. They merely hovered timidly in the sky, occasionally using some ranged skills with limited damage that could be largely ignored, including the Red Iron Dragon that had previously displayed its ferocity.
Facing the alchemical legion, whose morale was high and which was pressing forward step by step.
Unable to withstand the steel's edge, the Iron Warriors fought and retreated. After suffering heavy losses of gnolls, kobolds, and a few elites, they temporarily withdrew from their base on the Fertile Plains. A considerable number of them were defeated and scattered.
The Fertile Plain, as its name suggests, is a fertile and bountiful land.
Throughout the southwest, the fertile plains are the richest in all kinds of resources.
Having conquered the core territory in the southwest, the goblins, whose greed and stinginess rivaled that of dragons, naturally wouldn't give it up so easily.
In the previous war, the Ironforge tribe suffered repeated defeats and abandoned the Fertile Plains, which was tantamount to abandoning the southwest. They are unlikely to make a comeback anytime soon.
"Set up camp on the spot! Establish a base."
The head of the workshop issued an order.
Immediately afterward, on the battlefield where the smoke of battle had not yet dissipated, the goblin engineers were already busy as ants.
Amid the roar of steam bulldozers, quick-setting cement was injected into the trenches like gray blood, and the temporary city walls were built at a visible speed. The golems destroyed by the counterattack were quickly dismantled and reassembled—the rotating saw blades of the flesh ripper were modified into meat grinders on the walls, and the torsos of the steel rippers became watchtower bases.
A month has gradually passed.
During this period, the Ironforge tribe organized counterattacks time and again, attempting to reclaim the Fertile Plains, but they were all repelled by the goblins. Moreover, the strength of their counterattacks gradually weakened, and the number of monsters that came each time decreased, as if they were about to completely abandon the place.
During this period.
Because there are many alchemists in the legion, the Golden Tooth tribe's base has already taken shape.
However, this project has also taken a toll on the goblins, and their food supplies are running low and almost exhausted. But the logistical support is on its way and will arrive soon, so it's not a big deal.
It was late at night, and the darkness was deepening.
Scott, the master craftsman, and several goblin elders are discussing the next phase of their battle plan.
Driving the Ironforge tribes from the Fertile Plains was only the first step; they wanted to eradicate them completely and bring the southwest under their control.
Suddenly.
A goblin scout hurried into the makeshift camp.
"Master Craftsman, we have discovered a deep abyss rift!"
Having gradually established themselves on the fertile plains, the goblin scouts explored further afield and discovered the existence of the Abyssal Rift.
Apart from Scott, the expressions of the other goblin elders changed simultaneously.
Abyssal Rift?
In the fertile plains?
There's a hot potato here! Wait a minute... something seems off.
The goblin elder frowned and whispered, "Although we defeated the Ironforge tribe, upon closer inspection, their collapse was far too rapid, almost like an orderly retreat."
"In subsequent counterattacks, they also seemed to lack the determination to retake the fertile plains, often engaging briefly before quickly beginning to retreat."
They could be considered cunning and treacherous.
The goblin race is actually quite intelligent. After recovering from their previous victory, the goblin elders felt a chill and gradually noticed the strange details.
"The Ironforge tribe paid a bloody price."
"But the vast majority of those who died were insignificant gnolls and kobolds."
Another goblin elder's breathing became heavy as he said, "The centaurs, ogres, and wyverns suffered very few casualties, and the dragons that dominate the Ironforge tribe were completely unharmed."
After a brief silence.
The goblin elders simultaneously felt a chilling sense of crisis.
"A trap, a trap."
"The Iron Smelting Tribe has used the entire Fertile Plain as bait to lay a trap!"
"Their recent attacks have been infrequent, as if they are waiting and preparing for something."
The goblin elders belatedly realized the gravity of the situation: "Oh no, it's our supplies! They're waiting for us to run out! Speed up the logistics and send more golems to meet us!"
However.
Their reaction was too late.
Before the support team arrived, bad news came from the logistics department.
They were attacked, and it was the dragons themselves who came.
Along a route between Black Iron Plains and Fertile Plains, the Red Dragon and the White Dragon flew low, spewing flames and frost respectively, melting or freezing the mech golems escorting supplies into ice sculptures. At the same time, the Iron Dragon Sorog tore open the chest of a golem.
Soon after, the last golem was also reduced to scrap metal beneath the Red Iron Dragon.
The entire attack lasted no more than ten minutes.
"The goblins are indulging in the illusion that they have defeated us dragons."
Little did they know, their real prey was themselves.
Tie Long grinned.
Galos turned to look in the direction of the Fertile Plains and said slowly, "The real battle is only just beginning."
at the same time.
On the fertile plains, the master craftsman decisively ordered a retreat.
The goblin warriors, who had been gloating over their conquest of the bountiful territory, were now bewildered and confused by the sudden order to retreat.
However, they soon understood why.
Before they had retreated for long, monsters appeared all over the mountains and fields.
They did not engage in battle immediately, but instead followed the alchemist legion at a certain distance, watching them intently.
The centaurs began their charge only after the Alchemist Legion withdrew from the Fertile Plains.
At this time, the goblins were starving due to food shortages and reduced rations. They still had a lot of black oil left, but could no longer squander it. The alchemical golems, lacking sufficient maintenance, were also unable to perform at their full potential.
The Iron Warriors are the complete opposite of them.
They were like wolves and tigers, their momentum surging, unleashing all the pent-up ferocity they had suppressed at once, like a ravenous beast that had been starving for a long time, its fierce gleam fully revealed.
The powerful war song rose again, but it was not the goblin war song; it came from the Ironforge tribe.
Lava flows in my veins, flames burn between my teeth.
What we want is not victory.
[If you're going to fight, smash their skull!]
[Kill! Kill until the river of blood stops flowing!]
Realizing that war songs could greatly boost morale, the Ironforge tribe worked through the night to compile them.
Centaurs, ogres, gnolls, and many other monsters roared at the same time, their howls and howls, their iron hooves pounding the earth, and the rhythm of weapons striking shields intertwined to create a sonic wave that soared into the night sky.
Fight! Fight for the Dragon Lord!
Every wound is a medal! Every drop of blood is fine wine!
But is that enough?
Not enough!
Then tear open more chests! Smash more spines!
Until the moon was so frightened it hid behind the blood-red clouds, until the sun was utterly dimmed!
Different creatures, different voices, merged into the same war song, the sound waves soaring to the sky, shaking the goblins to their core.
The Ironforge tribe's morale was high, and they pressed forward relentlessly.
The morale of the alchemy legion plummeted, and they retreated continuously.
This moment is just like that moment back then.
However, unlike the Alchemist Legion, their retreat was not planned in advance but was out of necessity, and their mobility was not as good as that of the Ironforge.
Want to escape? It's too late.
(End of this chapter)
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