Chapter 420: War Begins
The waves crashed against the towering rocks of Breakers Bay, mixed with ice chips. The broken crests of the waves were freezing cold. If someone fell in, they would probably not survive for more than half a minute. They would either be frozen to death or be swept up and smashed to death against the cliff.
The Feroth people entrenched in Breakwater Bay are not as calm as they appear.
The People's Army, which they once looked down upon, was a rebel army formed by slaves within the Southern Meat Livestock, but it could actually bring them such great trouble.
The Great Shaman is dead, and the royal family of Ferros has chosen to join the arms of the sea god Odileus. Many Ferros people are angry about the royal family's ruthless betrayal, especially the Great Shaman's most loyal followers. Some of them have even chosen to follow the Great Shaman. This confusion and panic about the future has caused the morale of the army to be quite low.
What's more, they are now trapped in a strange land, and their homeland and the ice field are very far away from them, just like a group of ice wolves that seem to be extremely vicious but are actually displaced and wandering around.
Except for the royal city, some towns in the empire were still vulnerable. Those weak beasts would only flee without fighting, leaving behind the weak old, weak, women and children who were powerless to be killed by the soldiers of Fellos for fun.
But if they were unlucky enough to encounter the People's Army, the slaves' cunning and tenacity were like the most treacherous and unpredictable blizzard in the depths of the ice. The scarlet flag had even been privately called the "shroud" by the soldiers of Ferros with awe. They could only switch back and forth between brutality and desperate escape, as if being driven at will by some invisible force, step by step towards the giant ice cave that would swallow them all.
As for the Ferros' only remaining trump card, the "White Nightmare," this frost dragon has always been controlled only by the Great Shaman Salvatore. Even though some of the Great Shaman's will still remains in it, restraining it from going berserk against its own people, no one dares to confidently declare that they can control this behemoth. Putting it to sleep in the sea is actually the most deterrent.
At this moment, the "cooperation" message from the royal city broke the deadlock.
The news that a king needed to rely on external enemies to suppress an internal rebellion made the king and many generals of Ferros laugh with glee. However, the People's Army was indeed a sufficiently terrifying and urgent threat that forced the people of Ferros to seriously consider the possibility of cooperating with such a despicable "ally."
Soon, the Everfrost Royal Court's resolution reached the front lines—accepting Cassius II's request in exchange for "legitimate" rule over all lands north of the Dragon's Back Mountains, along with a series of harsh and unequal treaties. If the Silver Iris Empire agreed, then the border between the Silver Iris Empire's capital, Amacatio, and Ferros would be separated by only a mountain.
While the two countries were still haggling over how to divide the territory after the war, the elite Royal City Army from Amacatio was impatiently dispatching its first move, heading straight for Breakwave Bay, intending to join forces with its "allies" to annihilate the People's Army.
The "sound wave array" that integrates the scientific systems of the two worlds is also finally ready.
By the way, Mr. Ghost's proposal to use himself as bait to lure the "White Nightmare" into the designated sea area was rejected in favor of a more complicated but safer plan.
The man's face was gloomy, but at least he didn't mention it again at the military meeting. It seemed that he had a private "contest" with someone. The other generals couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. After all, no one wanted to watch Mr. Ghost take such risks.
As for worrying about Mr. Ghost's anger? While this overly young leader's temper can be terrifying in daily work, his sharp tongue enough to make one weep bitterly and begin to question whether they're a brainless... er, "paramecium," he generally cools down quickly, engages in self-reflection, and doesn't hold grudges or vent anger on matters other than matters of principle. He's truly a reasonable, excellent superior who doesn't require careful catering.
...It is the methods of those around him that are more terrifying, even General Maxlin, who has the best temper.
When the dark blue flag of the Royal City Army appeared on the side belonging to the Fellos people, a burst of extremely angry roars and boos suddenly broke out from within the People's Army - the king actually betrayed all the Silver Iris people and went to cooperate with the Northerners!
However, the Royal City Army was an elite force trained with almost all the strength of the entire country. It was well-equipped and well-trained. Without the help of the dragon knight bombing, even though the improved weapons of the People's Army were no worse than the coal weapons, the terrain of Broken Wave Bay was special and easy to defend but difficult to attack. For a while, it was still torn into several gaps by the two enemy armies.
Maxine's red hair shone like a dazzling landmark on the battlefield. Wherever she advanced, a brutal, dazzling blood mist would ignite. This young, even seemingly petite warrior was surprisingly experienced and ruthless on the battlefield. Leading her soldiers, she was like a sledgehammer, piercing through the enemy's attempted regrouping lines, leaving them no chance to breathe.
As the overall commander, Ghost stood at a high vantage point, concealed enough to observe the situation with the aid of magic and vision. His personal guards and subordinates nervously observed the intense fighting below. Several newly promoted officers were breathing rapidly, their faces pale. Even the veterans, veterans of many battles, looked even more solemn.
Only the professor remained remarkably calm, even a bit cold. The whistling, icy sea breeze ripped the corners of his clothes, but the slender, dark-haired young man stood like a towering beacon, causing those around him to habitually glance at him from time to time, as if just a glimpse of him would clear the way forward, their faith in victory unwavering, and they could still grip their weapons tightly and charge the powerful enemy without hesitation.
Gradually, the people of Ferros were suddenly horrified to discover that even though their front line had been torn apart, the morale of this slave army did not suddenly plummet like an ordinary traditional army, and they did not fall into panic and could only allow themselves to be slaughtered by the enemy. Instead, they spontaneously organized themselves and continued to attack the enemies around them in the form of scattered teams.
This was impossible. Every experienced general knew that on the battlefield, one had to treat their soldiers like the dumbest animals, using whips to command them where to go. Those who could memorize flag signals, understand commands, recognize their superiors, and follow them on the battlefield were already considered elite troops.
But this group of civilian soldiers didn't need explicit instructions. They seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to do. They formed small groups of three or five, using rocks, shallow pits, and even the bodies of their comrades as cover. They seemed to possess some strange tacit understanding. Even though they weren't in the same squad and, logically, didn't know each other, they still protected each other without hesitation and looked for opportunities to attack.
They seemed like a swarm of living creatures, even fragmented, yet still united and alive, devouring and disintegrating the vast enemy piece by piece like a swarm of insects. This terrifying illusion drove the still "uninformed" General Ferros mad—how on earth did these slaves accomplish this? Were they supposed to train every soldier to become a general?
As for the Royal City Army? They had long heard of the great reputation of the People's Army.
"Prepare the sonic array." The professor raised his hand expressionlessly.
Following his command, the inconspicuous devices placed everywhere uniformly emitted a faint light.
"...No, something's wrong." A general in charge of commanding the royal city army suddenly frowned tightly.
He was in the relatively safe rear. According to the real-time images transmitted by the photo stones flying around on the battlefield, the people's army had already dragged them into the battlefield, and it was a complete mess. If they looked away, they couldn't even tell whether the people in front of them were the people of Ferros, the Royal City Army, or the People's Army.
But at this moment, the slaves seemed to have suddenly received some instructions. They stopped fighting and quickly evacuated away from the coast, leaving only the people of Ferros and the Royal City Army looking blankly at the enemy who had suddenly "escaped", not knowing whether they should chase after them.
"Wait," a general muttered uneasily, "The main force's current location seems...surrounded by the sea on three sides?"
The sea surface began to roll violently.
It wasn't just any ordinary wave; it felt more like something was stirring deep within the ocean. Amidst the crowd's exclamations, the already icy sea surface began to freeze at a speed visible to the naked eye.
But it was not a smooth ice surface. Instead, it was madly growing countless huge, sharp, and hideous spikes that were twisted like thorns. They were entangled and stacked with each other, making a teeth-grinding "crackling" sound, and quickly spread towards the coastline, as if something was rolling and roaring in pain under the sea!
"Where's 'White Nightmare'?!" General Ferros, suddenly feeling a foreboding premonition, grabbed the neck of a random warlock nearby, his eyes filled with ferocious bloodshot: "Hurry up and summon 'White Nightmare'! Those damn slaves are attacking it!"
"No! It, it suddenly didn't obey our call!" The warlock's face was covered with cold sweat, and the other warlocks also had pale faces and kept trying, but obviously all failed.
An indescribable pain emanated from the other end of the dragon's connection, and General Feroth before him looked as if he was about to eat him. The warlock could only stammer and reluctantly explain, "The High Shaman shared his flesh and blood with the White Nightmare, allowing him to control it. Now we can only barely control it through bloodline spells."
He swallowed his saliva: "But we don't have noble royal blood, which will make the casting of bloodline spells more difficult..."
The warlock didn't dare to continue. After all, all the noble priests with royal blood died mysteriously at the same time. It was said that it was because of the great shaman, otherwise it would not be their turn to be forced to take the blame.
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