Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 396 The Steel Torrent Sweeps Through the Northern Territory
In late July of the second year of Xia Yue, Chen Mo mobilized all his field army, national defense army, and militia reserves, along with the Elf and Xi Yue reinforcements, and the conscripted laborers, forming an army of 500,000. Under the cover of the troops that had crossed the river earlier, they crossed the river simultaneously from six beaches and arrived in a mighty procession on the north bank of Huan Yan River.

This turning point in the war caught everyone off guard and seriously violated the war rules of the Starry Continent.

It was the hottest time of summer, and even after several torrential rains, the plains on both sides of the Huanyan River were still scorched by the blazing sun, with visible heat waves rising in the air.

Also, in just over a month, it will be harvest season.

Neither humans nor orcs like to start a war at this point.

The human nations are unwilling to fight at this time because they do not want to delay planting and harvesting. Although the land on the continent is considered fertile and rich in resources, there is never too much food, especially since food prices have been rising steadily in recent years due to the frequent outbreaks of war.

Every dan of grain that was delayed was worth a fortune in silver coins.

The Orcs were also unwilling to wage large-scale warfare at this time because of the heat; the hairy tribes deeply loathed the high temperatures in the central and southern parts of the continent.

Of course, there is also a conspiracy theory about why the orcs have always been unwilling to occupy the southern territory.

The Orcish Royal Court struggles to even control the Orcs of the Plains. If they were to send a large army to occupy the fertile South, it would be difficult to assess whether these tribes would still obey the Royal Court after a period of time.

After all, among orcs, there are also claw-type, hoof-type, large, small, superior, inferior, main race, vassal, and so on, which can theoretically be subdivided infinitely.

Without external pressure, things would probably fall apart internally, so it's best to keep a close eye on everything.

However, Chen Mo was just like that; at this juncture when no one wanted to fight a major war, he resolutely led his troops north.

With great fanfare, they launched an attack on three fronts.

On the western route, Liu Shuang, who had rushed back from Xi Yue, personally led an army consisting of a unit of elves, an army of the National Defense Force, and two militia divisions, heading straight for the stronghold of the "Thunder Roar" tiger-clan orcs.

On the eastern route, Ma Qianzu led a brigade of the field army, a part of the National Defense Army, and the combined forces of the thirteen Xiyue troops, pressing towards "Motianling".

In the middle lane, Alliance leader Chen Mo personally led his main force, and this army unfolded a front more than 30 kilometers wide, like a moving steel wall, slowly pressing towards the battlefield outside the Crack Claw Canyon where the stalemate had lasted for months.

Meanwhile, in the Crackclaw Canyon, the orc leaders immediately erupted in chaos.

Tiger chieftain Leonid was the first to jump up.

The burly tiger clan leader, with golden fur streaked with black, slammed his hand on the rough wooden table, causing the bone cups on it to rattle and clatter.

"I have to go back!"

"Old Bear, I have to go back. You know, that little girl is infamous among the humans, she's incredibly powerful!"

Leonid was referring to Frost Flow, a legendary figure whose name was known even to the orcs.

"The Lord of the Vast Ocean and she are another pair of scoundrels. They've definitely assigned her elite troops. I have to go back and keep an eye on things, otherwise, the little ones at home definitely won't be able to handle it!"

Chief Gemar, with his trembling claws, pleaded for a long time, his lips shaking, "Go back...go back, but could you leave some soldiers behind?"

"We've been besieging them for so long, and so many soldiers have died. We can't, we can't just let it go like this!"

Leonid shook his head resolutely, the golden mane on his neck swaying back and forth.

"What's the point of consuming this human race if we can't hold the main camp?"

"Old Bear, I did my best!"

After saying this, the tiger chieftain turned around and strode out of the tent. The heavy leather curtain fell behind him with a muffled thud.

Soon, the deep, distinctive bugle call of the Tiger Clan could be heard outside the tent; it was the signal to assemble the troops.

Gemar turned to Magatha, the Tauren chieftain of Thunder Bluff, his eyes pleading.

"Chief Magasa...you must help me!"

My nephew is dead!

Magasa was referring to Wori Blackhorn.

Orcs operate under a tribal clan system, so many generals have close ties with tribal chiefs or elders. After all, when it comes to promotions, why wouldn't they prioritize family members over outsiders?
Wori is Chief Magasa's nephew and a rising star among the younger generation of "Motianling".

Although he is a second-generation member, his ability to withstand the continuous fire of a 25mm machine gun while wearing a shield makes him a standout among the orc tribes.

Chief Magatha, the Tauren chieftain, had high hopes for him, even believing that he was a promising young man who could compete for a place in the wilderness. However, he died so suddenly on this earthen hill.

He didn't even know how to go back and face his sister.

These days, Magasa's face has been expressionless.

“Wori was a good lad, and we will remember his sacrifice. Once we take this place, we can give him the most solemn funeral, and I will invite the best shaman to pray for him…”

“My nephew is dead,” Magasa repeated, his tone unchanged.

“I know you’re sad, but Chief Magasa, look at my old bones,” Gema said, trembling as he raised his scarred and calloused bear paw.

"Half of my tribe's warriors were wiped out. My son, my nephew, all the children I watched grow up—they're all lying outside that canyon..."

My nephew is dead!

"Please, just hold on for a few more days. They've exhausted so much, they definitely can't hold on... They'll break through eventually. Once they emerge from the ditch, we can easily tear them apart!"

My nephew is dead!

"I don't want those spoils anymore, you can choose first, I'll do whatever you want, please..."

My nephew is dead!

Gemar was utterly desperate.

He understood what the Tauren chieftain meant; indeed, "Motianling" had done its best.

They rejected Han Hai's earnest attempts to win them over, and gave up the lucrative profits of becoming agents for [Smooth-Clearing Elixir] and [Exorcising Pagoda]. Their army came from afar, and even the most outstanding members of the clan died on this battlefield.

What else can you expect him to do?
As the banners of the Minotaur race rose from the ground and gradually moved away to the east, Gemar, who had been in a daze for a long time, finally let out a heart-wrenching wail.

The tribe that suffered the most and the most tragic deaths was my "Cracked Claw" tribe!

But at this moment, no one cared about his excruciating pain anymore.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The scorching summer wind swept across the wasteland north of the Illusion Flame River, stirring up yellow dust like a dragon.

At the same time, the six pre-planned beaches on the south bank of the Huanyan River came alive. Boats shuttled back and forth on the river, and sampans, ferries, and temporary floating bridges stretched out in a continuous line, carrying this magnificent army in the morning mist and shimmering waves.

On the north bank, the three armies of the Vast Ocean, having crossed the Huanyan River, marched forward amidst billowing dust, creating a breathtaking scene.

From the air, the three armies looked like three giant plowshares, carving three deep furrows across the Bailu Plain.

What caught the eyes of the spies from all sides were those banners that blotted out the sky.

Chen Mo thought it through very clearly this time. Hot weapons have their advantages, and cold weapons have their own way of fighting. In the past, the Han Hai Territory's method of defeating the enemy with elite troops and a small number of soldiers was powerful but lacked in momentum.

The people here are most familiar with the combat modes of the cold weapon era, so let's use methods they can understand to tell them what a "steel torrent" and a "war machine" are.

At the same time, all forces, large and small, on the plains were completely wiped out in one fell swoop, laying the foundation for subsequent construction and defense.

The most dazzling thing in the marching troops was the red Union hammer and sickle banner, the red of which seemed to form a Great Wall, almost turning the entire land red.

Behind these red flags followed the flags of the Hanhai National Defense Army with their red backgrounds and gold patterns, the dazzling green Elf Silver Moon flags, and the colorful tribal emblem flags of the various Xiyue tribes...

All sorts of things, under the blazing sun, merge into a surging ocean.

Beneath the flags stretched an endless procession.

The field army formation stood in neat rows, all dressed in summer uniforms, wearing military caps and boots, carrying automatic rifles on their shoulders, and with belts slung across their backs, laden with magazines and grenades. Interspersed among the ranks were numerous mortars, heavy machine guns, rocket launchers, and shoulder-fired man-portable missiles. Only those who had witnessed their firepower knew just how ferocious this seemingly unarmored force truly was.

On the flanks of the field army, the national defense forces marched in parallel.

Normally, during a march, in order to conserve energy as much as possible, troops do not wear armor and advance lightly, with auxiliary soldiers or camels carrying their armor.

But this time, Chen Mo issued an order for an armed march.

The endless array of the National Defense Forces was entirely clad in full-body armor made of high-quality steel, the plates reflecting a blinding white light under the blazing sun.

The spears were suspended by ropes at their sides, and the warriors held them with one hand, raising their gleaming spearheads. As they moved, the spears swayed slightly, like a moving forest of thorns.

The cavalry patrolled the perimeter, the light cavalry moving swiftly like the wind, sweeping past the flanks of the main force. The heavy cavalry, on the other hand, presented a completely different picture. Both rider and horse were clad in heavy armor, the knights wielding three-meter-long lances, with only their eyes visible above the armor. As they moved, they resembled a slowly advancing steel wall, their hooves thundering across the earth.

The chariots carrying the mages were tightly surrounded by the troops, slowly moving forward with the torrent.

At the rear of the marching column were supply trains protected by militia.

It was an army almost as large as the main force, with camels and carts rumbling along the way, and numerous mechanized and semi-mechanized vehicles moving about, leaving deep ruts in the dry land.

Wherever the army passed, dust billowed into the sky, and birds and beasts vanished.

Just looking at the marching troops exudes the oppressive feeling of a massive war machine capable of crushing everything.

Unlike the previous brigades of the Han Hai who only followed the main route and advanced rapidly, this force was enough to make any small or medium-sized tribe on the plains lose the desire and courage to fight.

Moreover, Chen Mo also gave them options for survival.

The Vast Ocean dispatched a large number of orc light cavalry and messengers to spread notices bearing the seals of the Summer Moon Alliance and the Vast Ocean Territory throughout the White Deer Plains north of the Illusion Flame River.

The 500,000-strong army of the Hanhai has crossed the river and is advancing northward, its momentum unstoppable!

Whether it's tribes or bandits along the way, villages and towns of all sizes, or various strongholds, as long as they don't openly confront each other and are willing to lay down their weapons, they all have two paths to choose from.

The first option is to surrender to Han Hai Ling.

The Vast Ocean Territory allows these tribes to retain their property and redeem all their slaves, including human slaves and orc laborers, at market price.

Each tribe must disarm most of its forces, and is allowed to retain a small guard to maintain internal order, provided they do not openly violate the laws of the Han Hai. The Han Hai territories promise to protect their personal safety and property.

As for what will happen in the future, without soldiers and without the backing they rely on, it's only a matter of time before these tribes are integrated into the vast ocean.

The second option is to leave, to let them return to their own people, or simply to the orc wasteland.

They were allowed to take all the tribe's wealth, leaving behind slaves and laborers, but in this case, the ransom money would not be paid.

After the assets are inventoried under the supervision of the Han Hai management personnel, they will be given a white flag. With this flag, they can head north along the designated route without being stopped or pursued by the Han Hai army.

Of course, if they have malicious intentions and slaughter the slaves in their tribe before taking over the Han Hai, then they shouldn't leave.

Of course, besides the two paths of cooperation mentioned above, there is a third path: to fight as a clan, then become corpses, and be buried in a place by the Vast Ocean Territory, waiting for a future day to join the ranks of the Vast Ocean in the form of skeletons.

Since they've all joined, it's hard to say which is better or worse.

When the announcement was first received, many tribal chiefs scoffed at it.

Although the army of the Vast Ocean Territory is intimidating enough, the White Deer Plain is so vast, if I can't defeat them, can't I at least run away? If I can't escape, can't I at least hide?

"Surrender? Orcs will never surrender!"

Then, multiple tribes proved with bloody facts that they could not be defeated, could not run away, and could not hide.

If we attack head-on, the Han Hai territory has guns and cannons, as well as heavy infantry and heavy cavalry.

In pursuit, the Han Hai Commandery had light cavalry, rapid reaction forces, and elven air force armed with composite bows. It was a one-sided slaughter of the fleeing troops.

As for hiding...

Under the watchful eyes of the heavens and above the radar, where can one hide?

The key point is that this time, in order to completely resolve the Bailu Plain issue, Chen Mo pushed things very steadily, but his actions were extremely drastic.

A certain orc tribe, confident in their familiarity with the jungle, attempted to put up a stubborn resistance by relying on the complex terrain and dense vegetation. However, they soon discovered that they were facing a vibrant green hell.

Chen Mo directly dispatched the Elf troops, who were most skilled in jungle warfare, into the mountains.

In the jungle, the elves' natural affinity makes their perception far surpass that of other races; they are completely in a state where you can't see me, but I can see you.

Scattered orcs were easily killed by snipes, while groups of orcs were immediately surrounded by living treants and thorny vines.

The enormous treant strode forward, swinging its arms, which were comparable to battering rams, and smashed the orcs' makeshift shelters, their nests built in the jungle, and the warriors inside.

The orcs, who were trying to fight back, discovered in despair that their only way to retaliate was to cut down trees, and trees were the one thing that was most abundant in this jungle.

The entire tribe of over 1,800 warriors was wiped out in a single day.

Some orcs chose to retreat into the swamp, hoping to outlast the invaders by relying on their familiarity with the terrain and their powerful ability to hold their breath underwater.

The boar-orcs of the Blackmouth Tribe had used this tactic before, and it did cause considerable trouble for the Vast Ocean Territory at the time. However, times have changed, and now the lord has more troops and more methods.

The troops skilled in water combat locked down the swamp, and then the necromancers began to continuously release undead warriors into the swamp.

Skeletons, stone statues, blood giants, Darth Vader...

The dead don't care about water, and they don't need to breathe.

As for miasma, poisonous insects, and swamp behemoths, those are just a joke. What crocodile would be interested in a skeleton?
So let's just exchange battle losses like this.

Without any suspense, the undead army, like a black tide, overwhelmed their last foothold.

Panic began to spread rapidly across the wasteland.

Soon, the first person to surrender appeared.

Located in the lowlands north of the Fantasy Flame River, this small tribe of jackals, lacking any powerful backing, has been exploited by other tribes for years. The tribe is already weak, with fewer than 500 people.

After convening his people for discussion, the elderly chieftain, the day before the vanguard of the Hanhai army arrived, personally knelt by the official road, carrying the few remaining bone ornaments symbolizing power from his tribe.

Behind him were all the slaves gathered together: one hundred and twenty-three emaciated humans and forty-one even more listless orc laborers, almost all of whom were old, weak, sick, or disabled.

All the strong warriors and slaves of this small tribe had been conscripted by the larger tribe.

Beside these slaves lay all the tribe's weapons: rusty iron knives, broken wooden shields, and a few crudely made bows and arrows.

A regimental commander of the National Defense Army received him. After counting the slaves and calculating the ransom, he gave them cheap salt, cotton cloth and medicine. He allowed the jackal tribe to keep thirty sets of swords and shields, which were the standard version from the Vast Ocean Territory, much better than their old and shabby ones.

With these supplies, this small tribe probably couldn't save up enough even in several decades.

After planting a flag at the village entrance, the National Defense Army turned and left with the slaves, leaving the orcs bewildered and incredulous.

With this precedent set, the orc tribe's will to resist collapsed as quickly as an avalanche.

Along the marching route, orc tribes began sending messengers, or directly led by their chieftains, to request surrender. The process was similar for each tribe: surrender their weapons, receive ransom, release slaves, and register them.

The officials and clerks of the Han Hai were extremely efficient, often able to complete the submission of a tribe in less than half a day.

As for the tribes that chose to migrate north, the Han Hai troops completed the formalities and immediately cleared a path. The vast orc migration caravan, with the old and young, driving livestock and carrying their belongings, full of uncertainty about the road ahead and longing for the bountiful land behind them, stretched out towards the northern wilderness.

As the three armies of the Hanhai Army rolled across the Bailu Plain like bulldozers, the choice fell to the three major tribes.

Where should they go?
(End of this chapter)