Chapter 378 Surrender
The shells landed precisely in front of the pack of snow wolves charging towards Leon and the others, sending up a cloud of snow and fog. The immense force of the impact caused the first few snow wolves to stumble and fall to the ground, whimpering in pain.
Lyon and his soldiers jerked their heads up, blinded by the glare of hope and snow. As both sides watched in disbelief, a group of soldiers, about sixty in number, appeared from the side of the ice ridge, like divine troops descending from the sky, atop the ice wall surrounding the hunting grounds.
The flag was hoisted, its bright red background making it stand out against the backdrop of the blue sky and snowy plains. Leon Croft's heart, already beating wildly, plummeted back into his stomach. This wasn't the dark blue flag of the Silver Iris Empire, and the troops arriving weren't the Empire's support troops, but the People's Party.
The Limin soldiers seemed to have been lying in ambush for a long time. Their white cloaks, used to conceal their movements, were covered with a thick layer of snow. The exposed muzzles of their guns and cannons gleamed a strange iron blue, evidently having been specially treated for freezing. From their high position, their ammunition flowed swiftly, for a moment causing the Snow Wolf to hesitate and howl, not daring to advance.
The priestess of Ferros let out an extremely piercing scream, and the totem on her face suddenly twisted like a living thing. She opened her mouth, and a large stream of black snow gushed out from the depths of her throat like a swarm of buzzing flies, rushing towards the soldiers of the People's Party like a living thing.
The chill in the air intensified suddenly, and the ice layer centered on the other side groaned under the weight. The lands touched by the black snow were instantly coated in an ominous gray-black hue. The Imperial soldiers standing in their way, along with the fallen Snow Wolf Knight, screamed in agony. The exposed skin on their faces instantly turned the bluish-black color of deep frostbite, and was quickly covered by a layer of climbing frost.
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" Leon roared, and he and the soldiers around him futilely aimed their guns at the priestess and fired back—but before their bullets even reached her, they froze into lumps of ice and fell to the ground. The priests of Ferros were unique. They were not followers of the four main gods, but rather, like their chief shamans, they manipulated the treacherous and unpredictable frost and cold.
But one figure was faster than Yan Han.
A punch came without warning, carrying with it a monstrous wave of wind that whipped up a huge cloud of snow. Before the surprise on the face of the priestess of Ferros had fully emerged, her entire face had sunken, and several bloody teeth mixed with fragments of internal organs ejected from her mouth, drawing a clear arc in the air.
The next second, the priestess was knocked flying by the punch like a rag bag, and fell heavily on the ice seven or eight meters away. She rolled several times before she barely stopped.
Only then did the figure of the puncher gradually solidify in the drifting snow mist.
Leon Croft's eyebrows twitched violently.
She was a young woman, wearing the same white cold-proof cloak as the Kuomintang soldiers. The hood had been blown away by the wind and snow, revealing her fluffy and flamboyant red hair like fire.
At first glance, she looked even petite, yet her arms and calves were effortlessly exposed to the cold, covered only by a layer of scaly, soft armor that allowed for easy movement, revealing the sturdiness and strength of a warrior. Her fists were wrapped in bandages, and white heat emanated from her body.
She landed steadily on the snow, and there wasn't even much murderous intent or evil spirit in her clear green eyes, just a creepy calmness and consideration that belonged to a top warrior.
"Hey, you're not dead yet?" the red-haired girl shouted at the priestess who was lying on the ground. As she tried to stand up, she spat out a mouthful of blood, which quickly froze into tiny red ice crystals on the snow.
Maxlin touched her nose guiltily. You know, His Majesty wanted them to capture him alive—and the soldiers of Ferros looked completely mad. The snow wolves closest to her raised their heads and howled shrilly, then pounced on her without hesitation.
...Well, it looked like the other party wouldn't die for now. She had to deal with these beasts first. In her past life, she and these guys were old acquaintances. Smelling that familiar beast stench and seeing those familiar white fangs, Marshilin actually felt a little nostalgic for a moment.
Of course, this "nostalgia" didn't affect her ruthless actions. Leon Krov's troops huddled together, shivering on the ice, as they watched helplessly as the Limin soldiers and the red-haired woman skillfully dispatched the Ferros, leaving no survivors except the priestess.
Several snow wolves, still breathing, lay on the ground, howling intermittently. Several Kuomintang soldiers nimbly approached and killed them with daggers. During this period, the tightly bound priestess let out a shrill scream with each snow wolf she killed. Her red eyes were filled with deep hatred, as if she was watching these foreigners slaughter her brothers and sisters.
However, most of these ferocious man-eating beasts were raised by the people of Ferros from childhood, making them difficult for others to tame. Even if released into the snowfields, they would force themselves to find their way back to the wolf pack and the people of Ferros. In this life-and-death struggle in the snow, no one would show mercy to them.
If one wanted to peel off the exceptionally thick, warm fur of the snow wolf, it was best to do so while it was still warm; freezing would ruin it. But now was clearly not the time to sort out the spoils. The blood-soaked Liberation Army soldiers had already formed a circle, surrounding Leon Croft and the Imperial soldiers with their rifles and bayonets, and the two sides were locked in a standoff.
No one on either side had yet opened fire. Leon Croft swallowed and began to consider whether to surrender.
It was obvious that a group of cold and hungry wounded soldiers could not defeat a group of well-equipped civilian soldiers. In contrast, surrendering to a group of fellow tribesmen seemed easier to accept than dying in a cruel sacrifice by a foreign race.
He glanced at his own men, who were like the walking dead, gritted his teeth, and suddenly took the lead in throwing away his weapons, raising his hands to the group of civilian soldiers. The imperial soldiers behind him looked at each other, and also hesitantly threw down their weapons in twos and threes.
...Fuck the military court, fuck the imperial dignity. Leon stared at the red-haired woman who pushed aside her men and approached them. He couldn't help but swallow nervously, and in his heart he kept praying to some damn god - just survive first, prisoners of war are better than frozen and starving corpses.
"General Marshilin." A Limin soldier beside him stared at Leon warily and frowned at the red-haired woman. "Supplies are running low. I'm afraid we don't need prisoners of war right now."
Leon Krov's heart sank upon hearing this, and for a moment he even forgot to ponder the familiar name. If these people took all their supplies and left them to die on the icy plains, they would be helpless. Even if the positions were reversed, Leon believed they would do the same.
Marchline blinked. She didn't reply immediately, but looked at Leon Croft, who looked tense.
"Hey, which Imperial Legion are you affiliated with?"
"The Second Legion, led by General Phil Goree." Lyon answered cautiously.
Not much emotion could be seen in those bright green eyes. She just stared at him very seriously for a while, and Leon was so tense by being stared at by a young woman. Then, her shoulders suddenly slumped, and she reached out and patted the soldier who had just spoken. It seemed that she didn't use any strength at all, but she made the grown man stumble.
"No problem, take them with you. We won't starve!" The red-haired girl said carelessly, "At worst, we can rob the Second Legion. I remember they have a supply station nearby. We need to feed them anyway."
Leon: “…”
Is it really okay to say this to his face?
But as a captive, he clearly had no right to speak out. The Limin soldiers unceremoniously requisitioned the sleds and some supplies left by the Ferros people, and loaded the wounded, several relatively intact snow wolf carcasses, and the tightly bound priestess onto the sleds. Someone, not sure if they thought she was too noisy, grabbed a rag and gagged her.
Lyon suddenly remembered where he had heard the name "Marchline" - she was actually very easy to recognize, the only female among the senior generals of the People's Party. On the battlefield, her reputation was no less fierce than that of the other generals, and she was also known as the "Valkyrie".
...I just didn't expect it to be such a young girl.
But Leon soon lost the energy to complain, because they were trudging through the snow. It wasn't that the civilian army discriminated against them, but the sleds were used to carry supplies and the wounded, so those who could walk could only tread shallowly in the knee-deep snow, feeling like they could collapse at any moment.
When they finally saw an extremely secluded camp hidden in the cliff, Leon had almost lost his mind and didn't even notice that the red-haired girl had disappeared from the team at some point.
Maxine was much faster than these ordinary soldiers. After ensuring that her people had arrived safely, she immediately left the main force and swiftly headed towards the coastline behind the ice cliff.
Beneath the icy cliffs, the chilling wind was somewhat weakened by the jagged rocks, but it still carried a biting chill. The waves had long since frozen over, leaving only the undulating outline of the ice waves, stretching all the way to the gray-white horizon.
A low, simple hut nestled in a leeward rocky depression, almost blending in with the surrounding glacier. Marshilin walked softly, carefully brushing off the snow before gently knocking on the closed wooden door. Upon receiving a response, she quickly pushed it open and slipped inside, then immediately turned and closed the door behind her, isolating herself from the cold outside to the greatest possible extent.
The cabin's interior was simple, consisting of a bed covered in animal skins, a table, and two chairs. But compared to the raging snowstorm outside, the warmth inside was like spring. A small iron-black pot sat on a small, blazing fire, and a brownish-black liquid was bubbling inside.
A man was sitting quietly in front of the window with his back to her, staring at the white space outside the window through a layer of blurry, low-quality glass.
"Professor?" Marceline approached him and called softly. She had deliberately made some noise before, so as not to scare him.
The man stirred and slowly turned around, his face paler than ever. Even though the room was so hot that she was sweating, he was still wrapped in a thick blanket and even held a steaming cup of tea in his hands, as if he was afraid of the cold.
"Marchlin...?" The black-haired young man looked at her dully. The tip of his nose was red, and his voice was particularly hoarse. "You're back. Good evening."
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