The woman had a delicate and elegant appearance, yet it evoked no more than a faint impression.
However, when Bulo looked at her, his usually cold gaze softened slowly.
This time, Bulo’s voice came low and deep: “I’ve not thought that far ahead. First, in the storm about to descend upon us, the werewolves must survive.”
The woman asked: “Why not appeal to the Peak of the Mountains for help?”
“The sacred mountains are diverging from the path laid by the ancestors; they gradually weaken in power. Werewolves derive their strength only under the ancestral spirits’ shelter – it is there that we obtain our explosion of destruction and the power of bloodlust.”
As Bulo roared, his words reverberated in the hall: “From the very birth of werewolves in darkness, our most powerful weapons have always been our teeth and claws, inheritable might belonging uniquely to us throughout the ages. Yet, those atop the peaks want us donning metal armors and wielding those soft-handed, powerless tools — don’t those ancient fools even understand, bloodkin and魔裔 wish that we were made piece by piece into wearing such chilling armor as bridle and saddle? Don’t they consider within their eyes merely beasts of bloodshed, fit only to spill blood and slay!”
The werewolf viscount thrashed around violently, slashing the space with his claws and tracing deep emerald trails as his testament to rage.
After the storm had passed momentarily, the woman quietly stated: “I understand not your words… yet, the storm this time might drown us all; many totems might soon collapse in silence.”
Every tribe had its own totem pole, and when the totem pole falls, it denotes the tribe itself has perished.
Staring at the depth of the evening beyond the windows, firm in his convictions, a whisper escaped Bulo’s lips: “The werewolves, will live on!”
At a certain distant hill ridge rose an amber-blonde spider demon, ascending with purpose. Beneath him, an unending sea of thrall spiders flowed like an army without end toward the horizon line. Amidst these spiders marched platoons of warrior Spider demons, lazily flinging out web globes which swept nearby helpless beings from the path when overcome by boredom.
Slightly flanking upon both sides flowed somewhat inferior mixed armies of Bloodkin and Werewolves — they were required to concede the prime pathway, always deferring to spider demon dominance.
Suddenly, the darker-haired spider demon’s demeanor grew impatient. “Has word from that damned cur Budo still not returned?”
Nearby guard spider-demons exchanged uncertain eye signals between one another. No good portents were available for their dark prince.
At that moment, a bluish spider demon with elongated segmented limbs emerged at the base of the hill, closing fast. He dashed as if gliding through air, effortlessly devouring difficult mountainous terrain; on limbs that were five meters in length lay eight long arthritic foot legs that thundered toward his destination with terrifying swiftness — he was known as Wind Runner, a natural-born scout and messenger within the spider race due to unmatched pace and mobility.
With directness and focus, the Runner reached the hilltop, and halting before the darker-haired spider demon. His top half, still humanoid form bowed briefly: “Lord Musk, I bring news; ill news, both gravely disheartening.
Viscount Budo did not move his forces and completely abandoned all outermost strongholds, concentrating civilians alongside combatants near his stronghold fortress. Though we did attempt to negotiate by offering emissaries at his castle gates for audience, we’ve been left waiting all this while without so much as glimpsing even a flickering shadow behind barred windows.”
The darker, browner-furred Spider noble mentioned here was none other than Lord Musk himself — and he reacted with startled indignation: “WHAT! This idiot Budo has betrayed my command!”
Should Budo refuse participation here upon open terrain, now his detachment stood isolated. Humanity’s army which conquered Domer’s land would easily consume this flank too.
Recollecting quickly Musk then inquired, “Proceed, what is number two?”
His messenger paused momentarily yet delivered again, steadily: “Forward scouts did recently return informing me: human battalions have made their approach, establishing firm positions now entrenched in Hei Ling!”
“Hei Ling?!” Lord Musk paled visibly. One might have noted how even his rear limbs had slightly shuddered instinctively at the news!
If he now relinquished Hei Ling mountain pass, the connection route back to The Count’s domains would be severed; and any possibility at uniting with Stuka armies, now vanished into nothing.
“Lord Musk, what now?”
Lord Musk circled the entire mountaintop perimeter a full dozen times before finally resolving his next command, “Order the entire army around—we are returning to Lejiaer Castle!”
Lejiaer堡was merely the stronghold situated along Lord Musk’s domain periphery; modest indeed compared to others. Yet even this offered modest fortification. Herein Lord Musk proposed withdrawing and awaiting human army deployment, then acting according to subsequent outcomes…
This new wave among mankind army ranks bore unfamiliar sigils. It erupted suddenly upon the battlefield without explanation; none ascertained fully as of yet this force’s precise motives: Were they aiming for territorial dominance or merely raiding expeditions to exploit darkness-tinted resources?
Contrasting further still against Musk’s minor bastion, Count Sturca’s fortress could barely be called comparable in design: a colossal citadel, grander, richer beyond all imagination — magnified many scales over. At this grandeur moment, deep within his personal study sat The Lord engaged with a thick, antique volume laid openly before him.
Appearance-wise, he bore resemblance to a stately older man—silver-blonde hair meticulously groomed, a monocle affixed across his vision with one golden rim while its dangling chain of polished metal ended solemnly in an obsidian gem, size fitting one’s thumb.
Indeed, Count Sturca took pains for immaculate presentation in appearance, pursuing perfection even in minor embellishments—a standard not inferior when rivaling even the vanity-ladled Vampire aristocracy. And yet… one couldn’t miss the subtle spots etched over his skin surface.
Such aged mottles marked one already nearing the twilight, indicating dark-origin force within slipping from containment. Slow corrosion of life energies caused these blemishing stains; even though layers of powder were applied generously, nothing erased the depth of such staining shadows forever locked in time…
At this very moment came softly-rapped sounds echoing on his study’s sealed wooden door.
A brief shadow crossed Sturka’s face—an annoyed twitch, before he called calmly, “Enter,” without shifting gaze.
As a consequence, came in an emissary from noble vampire ancestry — appearing himself only approaching middle age: handsome features graced with elegance — and regarded as an invaluable assistant by the Count personally. In truth, many of his extended kin never quite understood nor accepted: why a high-standing, self-entitling Noble Bloodkin could possess such deep seated trust within the spider-nature?
This messenger ventured carefully, “Your Countship — intelligence of the human raiders have been verified as updated. Apologies to come at you so abruptly this hour.”
Without lifting view, Count queried lightly, “Ahh… where have they approached thus far?”
“The mountain area called… Hei Ling, Your Majesty.”
“So… you’ve discovered why precisely do they arrive?”
“…Not yet confirmed as-of-yet…”
Still absorbed, Count spoke nonchalantly: “Well, continue observing their moves then; let’s wait and discover their actual intents in coming. Oh look here, Daishang. Peruse this excerpt about the Seven Sacred Weapons; quite an amusing legend —‘the fountain rushing in tides with blood might grant perpetual youth…’. Interesting, don’t you think?”
The blood-kin did not lean or even try a peek at the open book page in the Count’s delicate fingers… instead: “Lord, unless we respond swiftly, the entire eastern chain of viscounts here within borders of your estate would inevitably face complete annihilation at their hand!”
Finally this moment arrived where noble eyelids did indeed rise, allowing a cold stare toward the blood-born servant, so direct and so intense, it forced him into downward glances only. Sturku’s mouth then parted once again, his measured calm returning:
“…And? What of their annihilation? Rebuild as one pleases… fewer viscou—simply replenish with reckless fools with no fear of death…Besides, we find ourselves nearing the decisive hour soon—I absolutely must hold this critical line here and not allow for movement… one breach, and I need ask how dire it becomes… understand the meaning behind such a breach?”
Silent once more—DeShang kept still eyes forward in thought.
Carefully folding the marked page away before laying the book gently upon his desk, Count Stuka arose, pacing around room, finally halting before the vampiric aide: “You being also a scion from Sacred-blood should well understand—understand truly the root-stem of current calamity. Trapped between titanic powers, soon the hour demands that we pick side… amidst the approaching storm, how might you expect one even so much as concern himself with the insignificant affairs of certain vermin-human affairs?”
Sturka exhaled heavily: “Hence… I entrust you here then.”
Count Stuk reached lightly tapping the other’s shoulder: “I shall grant a thousand troops—further authorize command over any viscount battalions you come across along the battlefield’s edge. This will be as generous as you could expect, go… do not let this humble lord fall into disappointments.”
“The task shall proceed as assigned, Most Noble Count.” responded DeShang, every inch the ever-calmed aristocrat, not allowing even slightest excitement of authority gained to show its fleeting emotion.
As Stuka turned to view window blinds—his parting voice drifted like soft storm clouds upon horizon lines:
“This hour is upon all. To cross its waves may yet promise boundless horizons… Or perhaps sink into endless nights.”
DeShiang exited slowly, still respectful in tone and gesture, his thoughts lingering slightly as his gaze automatically strayed toward where window should exist for but a mere moment, though no glimmer of light revealed window nor night…
The chamber was rich and classic—but buried fully, and forever in the dark.
Back at the mountain ridge of Hei Ling—lights illuminated it as if under permanent dusk. Standing atop this rise in command stood Qian Ye observing silently as blockhouses rose like stars and trench after trench furrowed the soil, with heavy artillery slowly being wrestled upwards to its emplacement by many grunting fighters with combined might.
Victory was not far—this position’s construction nearing successful completion. And so too had peace of mind reasserted firm foundations in the depths within him. To gain Hei Ling was cutting across the Count’s domain against their trio of subordinates lying toward the northeast; essentially achieving over half of the western expansion objective.
Zhao Yuying stood at Qian Ye’s side, speaking with slight tease woven within words, “Boy’s got lucky. Looks the old spider either stuck with some business, or senescent in wits. For allowing your passage, I suspect he may not have expected us to arrive or settle… Now having done what can’t undo easily—I’d dare say, he’ll not take kindly to us walking out as easily as we came walking through.”
Qian Ye shook his lightly in dissenting tone, “We took but single minor Viscounty only—we have yet challenged the Count’s main battalions which remain untainted untouched, the true war has just begun.”
The woman asked: “What are we to decide next?”
Thoughtful Qian Ye responded slowly as thought solidly taking form: “What concerns me most is luring General General Stuk and his central army from shelter. We must strike them where it hurts the most; wound them deep. Otherwise, no land that we conquer can remain firm under control for long.”
A pause then. Yuying mused thoughtfully, “But that crusty, crotchety spider of a Noble shows every sign he’ll not leave hiding!”
The expression solidified into something hardened resolve within him.
“Let’s ensure their suspicions fall upon this merely being some sort of plunder attempt. Only that will tempt him into movement,” answered Qian Ye.
“Pillage… and loot?” she questioned archly.
Qian Ye’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, the mines.”
“The mines, huh? Simple assault would change nothing at all!”
Then from him emerged quiet intensity in voice alone, “Burn…everything to ground.”
Zhao wolf-whistled, grinning widely with intrigue as teasing tone reinserted: “Oh ho, that’s the brutal edge we need—so often too soft-spoken and pretty to carry an actual sword… for the longest time, I thought your friend Fourth Brother was adopting not just a young lady but rather taking a delicate little doll in arms instead.”
An indignant pressure momentarily welled deep within Qian Ye’s chest, a muttered grumble escaping mind without sound. Must every lass act like this wild child, then? He’d tried banter before and always failed to match wits with this viper-tongued temptress—yet even more foolishly still, physicality had not favored either side more often to his expense and sore bruises.
Choosing to disengage, Qian Ye turned instead to summon commanders from Shadow Fire faction for strategy meeting.
Now here’s a fact that must be laid clearly before eyes — within Count’s region, the Heilf black crystal mines stood unrivaled riches. Unlike typical ores of less interest — even crude unprocessed stone from Heilf retained capacity to burn for protracted times, but add into formula specialized ignition powder, able ignite surrounding deposits in chain reaction combustion. Once set ablaze, neither flame nor destruction yields willingly.
Such inferno couldn’t merely douse via water buckets nor bury with sand bags either… A blaze could blaze for months. Only silence and ruins remained in smoke’s shadow after extinguishing: entire regions scorched beyond recovery for an unforeseealed stretch henceforth termed Dead Black zones indefinitely scarred lands — all from one single mine ignited in such ways.
Thus setting this mining center ablaze represented extreme levels destruction—only someone thinking strictly for temporary gains or raid purposes would even suggest going in with torch raised like some mad arson demon on warpath.
So the plan was set: Burn down its entire mineral foundation to its scorched ashes — and thereby provoke this spider count to rise in force to preserve dominion… To ignite full-scale conflict under conditions and terms dictated by the invader himself. For now — this mine represented the only chip upon board with which Qian Ye might maneuver his way into drawing enemy main force from behind safety walls into deadly clash…
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