“Move that Resonance Cannon five meters to the left.”
On the wall of the Demonkin fortress—newly christened Fort Polaris—a Pujie draped in a flamboyant scarlet “Marshal’s Cloak” and wearing a towering mushroom-cap helmet was strutting about, giving solemn orders to the defenders.
Each Resonance Cannon was mounted beneath a Demonkin node. The more gifted warriors could even support two at once.
At present, the fortress boasted eighteen cannons.
Not because they couldn’t build more, but because magic supply was limited.
A fungal carpet in one area could only channel so much mana. Once drained, it had to draw from adjacent regions, and the transfer rate was capped.
Even with Lin Jun’s foresight—stockpiling large numbers of “Mana-Pool Pujie”—sustaining eighteen Resonance Cannons in one zone was the absolute limit.
Especially since the cannons weren’t the only drain. Just keeping up with the endless consumption of Pujie replenishment already ate through vast reserves.
In the past two days, several more spies had been caught. Unlike the first, Lin Jun didn’t waste them as sacrifices. After thorough checks, he simply locked them all up. They’d be useful later.
Honestly, after capturing Galon he’d been running around preparing for over a month now. If the enemy didn’t come… Lin Jun would cry.Cry bitterly!
Luckily, the enemy seemed determined to hurl themselves to death. The steady stream of doomed spies was proof they were serious about pushing things to the end. That, at least, reassured him.
Look—no more lone scouts! They’d upgraded to teams!
—
On the gray, wind-lashed icefield, a bolt of lightning split the air!
Where there had been nothing, a Pujie flickered into view, smoke trailing from its body as it collapsed, half its fungal flesh charred black.
Five figures emerged from the blizzard, closing in to examine the corpse. Scales, horns, and mismatched skin marked them unmistakably as a Half-Demon squad.
“A monster we’ve never seen… and it could turn invisible. No wonder the others never came back. Impossible to guard against.” A Half-Demon with a lizard’s tail kicked at the remains, his voice rough.
Their leader, the diamond-ranked Half-Demon captain Kins, frowned deeply. “Clearly this Demonkin clan controls these invisible creatures to watch their borders. From here on, we’ll have to double our caution.”
He raised his staff. A dense white fog, heavy with chill, spread out to envelop the five.
Against the snowstorm it blended seamlessly. To magical senses, it wasn’t foolproof, but the mana-laden mist scrambled detection, making it difficult to pinpoint them precisely.
Under its cover, they advanced with painstaking care. Whenever they drew near an invisible Pujie that couldn’t be bypassed, a bolt of lightning would lance out, killing it before it could act. Step by step, they closed on the Demonkin.
Suddenly, Kins caught sight of a hunched figure wedged in a crack between two frozen stones.
“…Early?!”
Drawing close, he recognized the familiar outline despite the heavy wrappings—only a pair of eyes visible.
“Captain Kins?” The figure—Early—seemed equally shocked. Then panic seized his tone. “Why are you marching across the surface like this?! Hurry, hide in here!”
He shifted aside, revealing a narrow, shadowed tunnel mouth behind him.
One squadmate muttered: “We have the mist. Any invisible beasts we’ve handled ahead of time. We won’t be spotted. But you—Early—you were part of the third scout wave. Why haven’t you returned with your report? It’s been days!”
“Leave? I’d love to leave!” Early grew agitated, then forced himself calm. “You don’t know what it cost me to retreat this far! The mist isn’t reliable! No time to explain. Get inside, now!”
He spoke with desperate urgency, as if lingering outside for another moment meant death.
The comrade who knew him started forward instinctively—but Captain Kins yanked him back.
“Wait.” His staff rose, glowing faintly. He fixed Early with a hard stare. “What danger is outside? And why haven’t you uncovered your face? Were you injured?”
The question froze the others. All eyes turned to the cloth that wrapped Early’s head tight. A few even tightened their grips on weapons.
“…Yes. Injured,” Early’s voice stammered, stiff. “Blood scabbed into the cloth. Hard to take it off…”
His tone grew pleading. “Trust me, Kins! I wouldn’t harm you. Come in—before it’s too late!”
But the glow at Kins’s staff-tip only sharpened, pointed directly between his eyes. “Early. One last time. Take it off.”
“You… why are you forcing me…” Early’s hand trembled toward the cloth. Anger filled his words. “I’m warning you for your own good—and you won’t believe me?!”
The cloth tore away.
A face grotesquely overrun by white fungus was revealed. Hyphae burrowed deep into his flesh, mingling with blood and skin until he was a twisted abomination.
The Half-Demons recoiled in shock; two even staggered back.
Early’s shame and fear twisted instantly into hatred and madness.
“It’s all Bastardos’ fault! That bastard, currying favor with the Empire’s whore, dreaming of southern lands and comfort—he sent us here to die! Not just me. You too. All of us!”
“You don’t believe me? Then die with me!”
From the tunnel behind him rolled several plump Pujies.
One squadmate, a Half-Demon with freakishly long limbs, reacted instantly—blurring forward with her blade flashing cold arcs. Several Pujies were cleaved apart mid-charge.
But not all.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions shook the ice. The long-limbed warrior, caught in the blast, was hurled like a rag doll, crashing hard into the frozen ground, blood spraying.
The others too were battered, coughing blood, though spared the worst.
The most ruined of all was Early himself—torn apart by the detonations that spared no “allies.”
Yet he seemed numb to pain. Seeing Kins’s squad bloodied, he threw back his head in manic laughter.
“Hahaha! Serves you right! You could’ve lived if you’d trusted me. Now—you’ll all die! All die with me!”
“Traitor!”
A bolt of lightning, thick with Kins’s fury, blasted Early. His body charred, convulsed, and fell lifeless to the snow.
But his death brought no relief.
He had bought enough time.
From the storm, countless faint “puj-puj” noises swelled. White, round shadows closed in from every direction.
—
—
—
And almost the exact same scene played out with the lizardman tribe’s scouts.
The Demonkin stronghold was like a black hole. No matter how many talented spies the enemy sent, all vanished without a trace.
Both chieftains—Bastardos and Tock—now felt the same bitter chill.