After Xinghuo warned of a possible siege, Lin Jun marked the three tribes nearest the Puji Fort for surveillance.
There could have been more, but since they were coordinating, keeping a tight watch on a few key tribes was enough to grasp the overall movement.
As expected, those tribes began actively preparing for war — stockpiling mushrooms and other provisions, drilling warriors day and night — the whole camp hummed with the tension of an impending battle.
Lin Jun had already prepared a variety of surprises for them along the way, just waiting for these overconfident fools to walk into his trap.
If they managed to beat him, he swore he’d feed his true body to Gray.
Unexpectedly, after gathering their warriors the tribes didn’t march straight for the Fort; instead they turned south and set off.
What were they going to do?
They wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack the Empire, would they?
Even though the Empire and humanity were clashing in the south, the Empire wasn’t using its full strength — it wasn’t something a few scattered tribal forces could exploit.
If they weren’t heading to attack the Empire, then what was their purpose in moving south?
After thinking it over, Lin Jun guessed they might be consolidating their forces first, then launching a unified assault on the Fort.
That tactic would be a lot smarter — at least better than each tribe fighting alone and being picked off one by one.
At the edge of the Mycelium Carpet, a swirl of mana suddenly appeared and consumed the surrounding mycelium and the magic within.
When the vortex faded, a newborn scout puji stood on the stripped earth.
[Minion Maker]
The scout’s outline shimmered slightly and soon blended into its surroundings.
Silently it tailed a southbound tribal column and began its recon mission.
Meanwhile, on the Fort’s side a two-thousand-strong army had assembled, backed by tens of thousands of pujis forming a vast puji sea.
These were units trained to varying degrees by Gray, and nearly three thousand people remained inside to keep the Fort operating.
Demons stood shoulder to shoulder with humans, werewolves mixed with cave-dwellers, and even a few slightly taller dwarves stood at the edges of the ranks — unlike Tolin, these dwarves had been bought from the tribes as slaves and were treated the same as other humans.
Such an outrageous composition would probably be considered a hostile formation by any outside power.
The army’s discipline wasn’t perfect — murmured discussions never ceased — but at least everyone held their assigned positions without shoving or chaos.
That basic order was largely thanks to Gray’s relentless drilling lately.
Norris also appeared among the ranks, but he wasn’t merged into the main formation.
He led the Jida squad at the rear; on each Jida’s shoulder sat a Resonance Cannon — they were the army’s mobile artillery.
They weren’t as precise as the miraculous marksmanship Lin Jun had witnessed before — able to snipe targets three kilometers away — but when these Resonance Cannons fired in volleys, their broad, saturating strikes were devastating against tribal masses.
Farther north of the Fort, in that region so cold even [Cold Resistance LV8] would shiver, Lin Jun’s extreme-north lab housed a titanic variant Jida composed of fifteen hundred pujis and towering over twenty meters, leaning quietly against an icy cliff.
This was the super-Jida that pushed the [Resonance] skill to its limits — an experimental war machine Lin Jun prepared for the present situation.
Most residents of the Fort didn’t know that every day a puji squad delivered supplies there: minerals for chitin shells and low-grade magic crystals for [Crystal Symbiosis].
Now the super-Jida’s shell coverage exceeded eighty percent, its massive body gleaming in snow-reflected light. Yet among the core puji groups forming the giant mana shield and that enormous Resonance Cannon, fewer than forty percent had successfully reached A-grade crystal symbiosis.
Using only S-grade crystals everywhere… even Lin Jun couldn’t afford that. Keeping this single project running already pushed all the dungeon’s mines to full speed.
Lin Jun scanned the semi-complete super-Jida with his awareness and abandoned the idea of deploying it.
First, it wasn’t finished; second, for the mere threat of northern tribes the existing forces were more than enough. Revealing such a trump card in an inconsequential fight and drawing the Empire’s attention would be foolish.
Although the tribal armies weren’t charging the Fort directly, Marshal puji still hopped onto Gray’s head and, in a voice that made everyone shudder, announced the order to depart.
Frankly, it was a very rushed order.
From sudden assembly to counting pujis and gear to marching took less than half a day — a conventional army couldn’t prepare so fast.
For Lin Jun that didn’t matter: as long as they marched on the Mycelium Carpet, it was home-field warfare. Logistics weren’t an issue — mushrooms grew where they marched.
After a battle they could replenish pujis on the spot; the army didn’t have to wrestle with tedious supply lines, so efficiency naturally soared.
Lin Jun ordered Gray to lead the mixed force south at a steady pace; he planned to issue further instructions once he understood the enemy’s route.
However, two days after the army set off, Lin Jun’s scout puji revealed an awkward truth: the tribes’ coordinated mobilization didn’t seem aimed at him at all…
——
Luo River — the north’s only seasonal river. In spring, only parts thaw; only by summer would it fully melt.
This time, five tribes near the Luo River had united in a hunting drive aimed at a newly appeared magical beast along the riverbank.
Five tribes sent over three thousand warriors to encircle a broad area.
They spread powdered stone on the ground and pushed it inward in concentric rings.
Broga, a senior warrior of the Broken Blade tribe, walked among his men who scattered the dust.
At one moment he noticed a claw print suddenly appear in the dust beside a subordinate.
Instinctively he flipped his ringed blade and surged forward; the next instant he was several meters away.
A spray of purple blood erupted into the air — a six-clawed beast lunged into view and, with a shriek, its body split in two.
“Push forward!”
Under Broga’s command the men suppressed their fear and continued scattering powder.
This time they threw it harder, trying to throw it farther.