After the Winged scouts repeatedly confirmed there were no Demon eyes nearby, a hundred-man squad quietly departed from Golden Valley City.
This team was jointly led by Angela and Baron Morton. Among them were Puji Masters and Winged beastmen adept at reconnaissance — it was nearly the limit of what Golden Valley’s already thin defenses could afford to send out.
Everyone prayed for their safe return.
All the pujis they brought were of types that possessed tentacles and [Mana Storage] ability.
The tentacles were needed for carrying goods, and [Mana Storage] was crucial because this was an operation away from the Mycelium Carpet — without stored mana, the pujis would starve mid-route.
Fortunately, although pujis’ abilities weren’t fixed, these two traits were relatively common, so assembling such a team wasn’t difficult.
A Puji Master’s control range was roughly three hundred meters; beyond that, the pujis would grow sluggish or stop responding altogether.
Thus, the round, bouncy creatures were now trotting along both sides of the formation, tightly following their masters.
During the march, one Puji Master tapped the shoulder of the colleague ahead.
“Hey, one of your pujis mixed into my formation. It’s messing up my spacing — call it back.”
The handler in front didn’t even look back. “Mine are all on the right. That must be someone else’s. Besides, what’s the big deal if they’re mixed up? If we run into an enemy, they’ll all charge in together anyway.”
“No way… The messy formation makes me uncomfortable.”
While they spoke, the unidentified Puji quietly fell back several steps and merged into the group behind.
Seeing the strange Puji disappear into the cluster, the handler finally ordered his own pujis to line up neatly again, nodding in satisfaction.
Tch.
How annoying — such a sharp-eyed Puji Master.
That Puji, of course, was one Lin Jun was controlling through [Minion Control].
The Puji itself was nothing special — its only distinction was that its self-detonation was slightly stronger than others. Lin Jun mainly used it as a moving camera to observe the situation.
In small-scale scouting like this, the value of beastman soldiers truly shone.
The advantage of Winged aerial reconnaissance needed no further praise — they had only marched half a day before one Winged scout had already flown ahead to Warrior’s Cape Bay and returned with intelligence.
Just as Baron Morton had said, the area had fallen. The scout saw no living soul — only scorched ruins and scattered corpses.
Fortunately, no signs of Demons remained; it seemed they had plundered everything and moved on.
Besides the Winged, the ground beastmen were seasoned hunters, able to analyze tracks and traces. Even the so-called useless Ratmen had a use — sensing vibrations, allowing them to detect approaching cavalry in advance.
Even so, Angela’s heart never left her throat.
They were playing a deadly game of hide-and-seek — sneaking through the predators’ territory to steal the resources they needed.
If this hundred-man squad was discovered by any Demon unit, they’d be annihilated.
At best, the Winged might have a slim chance to fly back.
Fortunately, until sunset, nothing went wrong.
As the last ray of sunlight faded beyond the horizon, the team finally reached Warrior’s Cape Bay.
Once a bustling port town, it was now nothing but ruins.
The burned houses were cold; even the embers had long gone out.
In the chill night wind, only the sound of monsters chewing on corpses echoed among the rubble.
There was no time to rest. Under the moonlight, the soldiers drove away the beasts feasting on their “dinner” and seized the remains.
No one lit torches or cast light spells — that would be as good as announcing their presence to the Demons.
…
While the others were “collecting supplies,” Baron Morton stood alone by a broken wall, repeatedly rubbing a delicate pendant engraved with his family crest.
Angela passed by and overheard him murmuring softly to it.
“My little Lucia…”
“Lord Morton, that is…” Although both were Diamond-rank, his noble title placed him above her.
Morton didn’t hide it. “A Marlone Gem — also known as a Bloodline Gem. When worn by close kin, it allows them to sense each other’s direction across great distances. The other one is with my daughter.”
“Your daughter…”
After a moment of silence, Angela spoke gently. “The Demons have taken too much from us. As long as we keep fighting, there’s still hope.”
“Not just the Demons,” Morton gave a bitter laugh. “Commander Angela, do you know — it took me forty years to rise from a lowly squire to owning a tiny, poor patch of land, to finally have time for a family and raise a daughter…”
“When the border crisis broke out last year, I donated seventy percent of my harvest to the war. This spring, I personally sent off three hundred strong lads to join the army. I thought that would be enough to protect my land and my family!”
He suddenly turned toward Angela, eyes blazing with anger.
“And the result? When the army retreated, they didn’t even warn us! They used our lives to buy themselves more time!”
Angela could understand his rage. Golden Valley City, too, had been among those abandoned.
But she also understood the reasoning behind such decisions — sometimes, sacrificing a few to save the many was unavoidable.
Even among the beastmen, it was the same.
They were the ones chosen to be sacrificed in this war.
The only difference was — Angela still had family in her tribe, and her sacrifice was voluntary. Morton’s… clearly was not.
Still, no matter how understandable his emotions were, he was far too agitated. Completing the mission came first.
Just as she was about to speak, a soldier approached, leading a ragged human.
“Commander, we found a survivor. Says he’s from another town, not local.”
The man immediately dropped to his knees — not before Angela, but before Morton.
“B-Baron! Praise the gods, you’re alive! The others who escaped said you died covering your people’s retreat from the Demons—”
He seemed truly overjoyed to see Morton alive.
Morton sighed deeply. “It would’ve been better if I had died then…”
A moment later, steel flashed.
Relying on years of battle instinct, Angela jumped back — but not fast enough. The blade grazed her right shoulder.
“You…” Blood seeped through her fingers as she clutched the wound. “Why…?”
Morton’s face twisted.
“He’s mistaken,” Morton rasped. “I wasn’t covering my people’s retreat… I was covering my family’s. And I failed. So I chose another path!”
As if to confirm his words, dozens of torches flared to life around them. Heavy footsteps thundered closer. From all sides surged pig-faced soldiers in rough iron armor, tusks gleaming under the firelight.
Morton retreated swiftly to stand beside their towering, broad-shouldered leader.
“Father!” a girl’s tearful cry rang out as she was shoved into Morton’s arms.
Around her neck hung a pendant identical to his own. She clutched his coat tightly, sobbing.
The pigman leader grunted approvingly, his foul breath thick in the night air.
“Not bad at all!” he said, slapping Morton’s shoulder with a massive hand. “Keep proving your worth, and I promise you and your daughter will live comfortably on my land.”
He turned toward the surrounded group, baring his tusks in a grin.
“The rest of you too! Drop your weapons and kneel — surrender, and you’ll live!”
Angela gritted her teeth against the pain, slowly straightening. She looked at Morton, who held his daughter tight, unable to meet her gaze, and sneered.
“How ironic, Baron. You cursed the kingdom for sacrificing you, and now you’ve chosen to sacrifice us to save your daughter.”
She sniffed sharply, raising her sword. The blade pointed straight at the pigman leader.
“Surrender? You filthy pigs stink to high heaven — I can’t stand it!”