Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 496 The Routing Warlord and the Endless Bombardment

On the vast, desolate plains, a large group of orcs were fleeing in panic.

They were in retreat, fleeing for their lives, running desperately, and running blindly in panic.

Those once-proud warriors of the wilderness are now like a pack of wild dogs whose den has been raided. They pant heavily with their mouths wide open, their heads drooping and their bodies exhausted. They tread on the chaotic, dusty ground and the corpses of their fallen comrades, and like a tide, they sweep over the hills, over the plains, and over the direction far from the enemy.

Their overseer, Brox the Crusher, was being carried by two guards, stumbling and mingling in the tide of fleeing soldiers.

Brox had never been so embarrassed.

Despite being called a "bastard" by others and carrying the "filthy blood" of humans, he never felt it was his fault.

It's all his father's fault for being so lustful and falling for a beastman girl with mixed blood.

Fortunately, his father's family background was illustrious enough, and his own strength was great enough, so he finally became the high-ranking orc warlord, holding the lives of tens of thousands of warriors and hundreds of thousands of civilians in his hands with every move.

He thought himself fearless, especially when facing those weak and shameful humans.

So many inferior trash like him were able to repeatedly burn, kill, and plunder on human territory with impunity, returning laden with spoils, while he was firmly confined to the wasteland. This made his heart feel as if it were being scorched by a raging fire, burning him to the core.

His greatest anticipation was to wage a fierce and exhilarating war against humanity, to use his warhammer to smash those wretches into mincemeat one by one. To watch their brains splatter onto his boots, to hear their bones creak beneath his feet…

The mere thought of that scene made him tremble with excitement.

Brox was even very grateful to Chen Mo at one point.

Thanks to this pioneering lord who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, he conquered the White Deer Plain, giving him the opportunity to directly confront the human race in war.

However, not all humans are the same.

Reality dealt him a heavy blow.

The defense of the desolate Stone Gate was like a nightmare, and the entire army's southward assault was crushed head-on.

Those human archers hiding behind cover, those metal monsters spitting fire, those endless "heavenly fires" falling from the sky—all these made his proud Azure Thunder Legion seem as weak as a human woman who had been ravaged.

All that was left was to run away.

Brox couldn't remember how long he had been running; it could have been several hours, or it could have been just a short while.

In this frantic escape, time has lost its meaning.

Warlord Brox felt as if his lungs were filled with red-hot coals; every breath was excruciatingly painful, and his exhaled breath carried a salty, metallic taste. The wound on his left side, torn open by shrapnel, was still oozing blood, which mixed with sweat and stained his rough trousers a sticky, crimson stain.

He began to feel pain, but he dared not stop to bandage his wound, nor even look back.

He still remembered his personal guard captain, the old orc who had followed him for thirty years, with half of his body sliced ​​off by shrapnel, waving his skeletal severed arm at him.

"Run...run fast..."

I'm running!
All I could do was run!

During this desperate escape, the enemy's "magic" was always there, relentlessly following behind.

The hellish battlefield behind him was no longer visible, but the continuous roar, the piercing screams, and the earth-shattering explosions still echoed repeatedly in his mind.

It was as if a mad shaman was pounding his skull with huge drumsticks.

The number of guards around him was decreasing.

Some got separated from the group, some collapsed from exhaustion, and some, while running, suddenly fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and then stopped moving.

Countless orc warriors were left forever on that land covered in steel and fire.

Initially, it was the Eastern Xia artillery that fired in pursuit.

Arcs of "heavenly fire" continued to fall from the sky, and the orc warriors who couldn't dodge in time could only desperately throw short spears into the air, or simply curl up and cover their heads.

Shields? They were all lost long ago.

Occasionally, explosions would occur right in front of him. Brox looked in the direction of the sound and saw his warriors falling one by one, their flesh and blood flying everywhere.

Most recently, the blast point of a 155mm howitzer was only a few meters away from him, knocking the dazed orc warlord to the ground.

When he finally got up, his ears were ringing, his vision was blurry, and it felt as if the whole world was convulsing. The orcs around him lay scattered on the ground, leaving behind only a huge, charred crater still emitting thick smoke.

Once again, the guards shielded him with their bodies. The little brat who had just died still had some downy hair on his face, but he was already the most valiant warrior of the younger generation, a promising candidate for future commander of a thousand beasts, commander of ten thousand beasts, or even warlord. Now, he had become a lump of rotten flesh that was unrecognizable.

"Commander...Commander!" Another guard shook his shoulders frantically, waking him from his dizziness.

"Run—"

"Run!"

Brox continued running, seemingly oblivious.

They stumbled and ran wildly for an unknown amount of time before finally escaping the effective attack range of the Eastern Xia artillery.

Then, another plane arrived.

The Eastern Xia Command's opinion was clear: the force that broke out of the Savage Stone Gate, based on the identification by the intelligence department and the surprise interrogation of prisoners of war, had been confirmed to be the Azure Thunder Legion, one of the four elite legions of the orcs.

Upon hearing the word "ace," the commanders of Dongxia felt an irrepressible excitement.

They diverted a portion of their air force, which was on a bombing mission over the wasteland, to pursue this fleeing force, with the goal of completely scattering, disintegrating, and killing it.

It would be best to remove its serial number!

Thus, the Brox Legion, which had just caught its breath, was met with a new round of baptism.

One after another, black spots appeared in succession.

They flew very high, extremely high, so high that even the best-eyed orc scouts could only see a few blurry shadows.

Then, the orcs' familiar planes started "laying eggs" again.

Rows of black dots fell, and the booming sound, like rolling thunder, crushed overhead, making people feel as if their internal organs were about to jump out of their throats.

When the bomb landed, Brox instinctively lay down, buried his face in the dirt, and hugged the back of his head tightly with both hands.

Orcs have also fought many wars. When an attack that is beyond their understanding and expectations comes, cowering, hiding, and seeking cover is also a war instinct.

Lying down can shrink the target of an attack, which is useful when facing any area-of-effect attack.

They came in as arrogant as they came back.

However, the scattered orcish troops greatly reduced the effectiveness of the air force's bombs. In the end, Broxigar successfully retreated back to the highlands, passed through the Savage Stone Gate, and fled into the depths of the wasteland.

Those damned iron birds overhead seemed to have finally come to their senses and gave up on pursuing the fleeing soldiers.

Brox plopped down on the ground, frantically groping his body with his hands; he needed water.

But no, the troops had already lost everything they could during their rout.

The guards, swaying slightly, helped him up: "General, hang in there a little longer, the Stone Tribe's camp is just ahead, once we get there..."

Before the words were finished, an explosion came from the distant mountain valley.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Unlike the earlier bombardment of the fleeing orcs, the bombardment was not a series of scattered shots, but rather a rapid, dense barrage after a few preludes.

The incessant explosions were like the war drums of orcs before their campaign, the dense drumbeats causing the entire earth to tremble slightly, each sound making Broxigar's heart pound violently.

That mountain hollow is the direction of the Shattered Stone Tribe.

Brox knew the place well. The Shattered Stone tribe was a large tribe with more than 12,000 tents, famous for its fierce giant bear infantry. Each of those soldiers could tear open a gnoll's chest with their bare hands, charge into battle on a huge wasteland brown bear, and with thick hides and high magic resistance, they were formidable characters who could go head-to-head with ogres.

Now, amidst the towering flames and smoke, Brox could easily understand what had happened.

The supply depot and foothold in front of him had been cleared out by the enemy beforehand. Countless warriors of the Shattered Stone Tribe were caught off guard and became the figures struggling in the firelight.

"My lord, hurry! Head east past Mount Tirani, where the Tirani Shaman Temple is located!"

"The Beast God will protect you!"

Yes, Urgo will protect his people.

By the God of Beasts!

Brox once again embarked on a journey of escape.

He repeatedly comforted and numbed himself until he ran for another two hours. When he felt his body was about to no longer belong to him, he saw the ruins of the shamanic temple.

The once majestic temple, built of massive stones and carved with animal and god totems, has now become a pile of rubble emitting thick smoke.

The stone pillars were broken in half, the reliefs were shattered, and corpses lay scattered everywhere in the square.

The towering statue of the beast god Urgo, standing six zhang tall, the idol that the beastmen had worshipped and revered for generations, was broken at the waist. Its massive body lay on the ground, shattered into countless pieces.

It got bombed again.

Even the most elite Frostwolf Orcs couldn't outrun the Eastern Xia's warplanes, let alone Broxigar's two legs. The Orc warlord stood blankly before the billowing smoke-filled temple, still muttering to himself as if out of habit.

Beast God, please protect your child...

By the God of Beasts!

He suddenly stopped when he read it for the third time.

shelter?

What is the Beast God protecting?
If Urgo can't even protect its own temple, what can it protect?
Where else can I run to?
A profound despair overwhelmed Brox.

And ahead of him, on this vast wasteland, sparks of fire still flickered everywhere.

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 Eastern Xia Air Force carried out a full-scale bombing campaign.

Bombard the orc fortress and destroy the enemy's defensive core that has node value;

Bombard the orc supply depots and scatter organized enemy forces.

Bomb large tribal strongholds and thwart potential enemy ambushes and interceptions.

Bombard the various temples, shrines, and totem poles of the Orcs to undermine their fighting resolve and confidence on a psychological level.

In short, the goal is to break up and cook the large pot of hard rice on the wasteland into a paste, making it easier for the army to eat without getting too gritty or digestive problems.

At the same time, this large-scale bombing was also an important domestic strategy of the Eastern Xia Dynasty—to reduce inventory and promote production.

The stockpile of weapons in Dongxia, especially basic weapons, is an astronomical figure.

Modern Dongxia has always been a country with a strong sense of crisis. Especially after being repeatedly colluded with by internal and external forces, and suffering national ruin and destruction, Dongxia has almost completely instilled a war mentality into its very bones.

Looking at the entire history of the military development of Dongxia, you can see that Dongxia has always been very restrained in the production of long-range and offensive weapons. Long-range fighter jets, bomber groups, medium-range missiles, and intercontinental nuclear weapons are only needed to be available as backup in critical moments.

However, for homeland defense weapons, there must be plenty of them, the more the better.

The logic here is simple: when you attack someone, you decide when to strike, allowing you relatively time to prepare your weapons. Being attacked, on the other hand, is likely an unexpected event; you can't expect someone to wait for you to slowly sharpen your weapon.

The weapons have expired, and destroying them would cost extra money. But they're useful here, so let's use them as much as we can.

As for the weapon's effectiveness...

For an enemy lacking effective defense and counterattack methods, the effect of any weapon is roughly the same.

"bomb!"

The bomb bay under the bomber's fuselage opened, and a 500-kilogram guided bomb detached from its rack and fell downwards under the influence of gravity.

This thing uses matching guidance, or more accurately, terrain matching and scene correlation matching guidance.

The main method involves capturing real-time images using cameras mounted on the bombs, then matching these images with the terrain and surrounding landscape of the target area captured in advance by the airship. By comparing these images, the system finds the preset target point, corrects the flight path, and fires directly at the target.

This thing is extremely accurate; theoretically, it could be smashed into a bathtub.

However, there are also drawbacks. First, you can only shoot at fixed targets. Second, you have to choose which target you need to hit from a large number of buildings or tents.

This requires extremely strong intelligence support.

In this respect, Han Hai's intelligence gathering on the Orc Wasteland was quite thorough.

First is the Mercenary Guild of Hanhai City, which is always on duty collecting intelligence on the orc-controlled areas, and its intelligence system never stops scouting the various orc tribes.

The swift capture of the White Deer Plain in the two major battles was certainly due to sound tactics and superior weaponry, but the intelligence system's analysis and assessment of the orcs also provided significant assistance.

After gaining actual control of the White Deer Plain, Han Hai set up a trading market in the border area, where information about the orcs in the wasteland could be exchanged for copper coins, grain, iron pots, insect repellent, purgatives, and even rare spirits and cigarettes.

There are many sellers, and even tribes themselves will take the initiative to sell, because the threshold for selling is very low. No confidential information is required. Even some orcs' family matters and tribal ...

Of course, once these fragmented pieces of information are run on the central intelligent supercomputer of the Vast Ocean, and after targeted analysis and matching with high-altitude reconnaissance, many tribes of the orc race are essentially stripped naked and standing in front of the Vast Ocean.

Secondly, although humans cannot enter the wasteland, dwarves can.

For hundreds or thousands of years, dwarves and orcs have maintained close ties. When orcs were struggling to survive on the wasteland, it was the dwarves who provided them with food and weapons, helping them through the most difficult times.

For dwarfs, the more powerful forces on the continent, the more chaotic the fighting, and the more balanced their strength, the easier it is for them to make money.

The rise of the vast ocean once made the dwarfs resentful.

They hope Han Hai is stronger, but not to this extent.

Therefore, the dwarves sometimes provide the Vast Ocean with intelligence on the orcs, and sometimes supply the orcs with more resources and weapons. To some extent, this is the continental rebalancing strategy of the dwarves.

The reason why Han Hai is not being targeted by the dwarves is thanks to the existence of Wangyue Golden Pavilion. The benefits have given Chen Mo a group of relatively reliable "allies" among the dwarfs.

This group of dwarves continuously transmitted various intelligence from the Orc Wasteland to the Vast Ocean, of course, in exchange for a "trivial" information fee.

However, the orcs' core secrets, especially their military secrets, remain an area that the Vast Ocean cannot access, whether because the dwarves cannot collect them or because they are unwilling to sell them.

Therefore, HanHai also has its own source of information.

In fact, within the highest command headquarters of the Vast Ocean, even the daily breakfasts of many orc generals, the number of times they went to the toilet, and the girls they slept with at night were all meticulously recorded.

The key contributor to this information line was the orc shaman Garu.

An orc shaman who was wounded and abandoned during the orc army's southward expedition, was healed by the Vast Ocean, and whose family and fiancée were also well taken care of.

Racially, Garu is an orc. But in terms of class, Garu is an absolute outcast, a member of the lowest strata of the orc class, destined for slaughter.

Fortunately, Han Hai doesn't engage in racial narratives; instead, it emphasizes class camaraderie.

After a period of study, Garu became completely devoted to Han Hai. After being ordered to return to the orc tribe, Han Hai helped him in various ways, enabling him to grow step by step into a Thousand Spirit Shaman.

During this process, Garu also spread Dongxia's specially made miniature listening devices to every corner he could reach.

These listening devices came in various shapes and sizes: some were shaped like stones, some like blocks of wood, some were embedded in mirrors, and some were stuck in statues...

Other items were incorporated into the human spoils of war favored by orc generals, such as noble crests, staff caps, hourglasses, compasses, and even various human bone and fur products.

Take the most common stone-shaped listening device, for example. From its appearance, this thing is no different from the most ordinary red gravel in the wasteland.

To avoid being detected as much as possible, Dongxia spared no expense in manufacturing any two listening devices that were different in appearance and had various weathering and friction marks added to their surfaces.

It even has a special internal counterweight to ensure that the overall density is exactly the same as that of red gravel.

Therefore, despite the fact that these listening devices were almost ubiquitous in the orc tribe, no orc noticed anything amiss.

The smallest listening device is about the size of a button battery and can be attached to the armor of an orc general.

The larger ones were left in the corners of the orc tents, on the beams, or even used as table legs.

As for the windowsills of generals' private residences, public toilets, and even the flagpoles of battle flags and weapon handles, they may all contain ears from the vast ocean.

To put it simply, they were taking advantage of the orcs' lack of knowledge about high technology.

Of course, to prevent information from leaking out, Han Hai's own troops were also strictly shielded from access. Only the intelligence team directly under the Supreme Command could access this information line, then organize the collected intelligence, add a layer of embellishment, and distribute it to the troops.

With such intelligence support, coupled with the guidance of some locators and airships, the Dongxia aircraft group could bomb with ease.

The tribal council hall, the shaman's altar and temple, the granaries and armory, the sheds for raising cavalry mounts...

These targets were assigned to each bombing team, with coordinates accurate to the meter and flight distances accurate to the second.

In Earth's parlance, this is called a surgical precision strike.

As soon as the bomb left the cockpit, the pilot gently pulled up the nose, and the fighter jet quickly began to climb. He didn't even confirm the results before flying directly to the next bombing site.

The bombs will find their targets on their own. Even if there is only a one in ten thousand chance that they miss, they will "sound" the alarm, and other aircraft will follow up to finish them off.

I need to hurry up and take a few more shots.

We missed bombing the Four-Clawed Sea Serpent, but this time, we're determined to blast it thoroughly and satisfyingly.

Firelight.

Thick smoke.

Tiny black dots, like ants, scattered and fled across the ground.

Looking down from above, the ground resembles a giant canvas, with golden sunlight, verdant grasslands, gray-brown stretches of Gobi Desert, winding rivers like jade ribbons, and—scattered sparks and thick smoke.

The flames were like drops of red ink falling onto this canvas, scattered wildly and haphazardly across the vast plains.

Only those within it know that beneath each red dot lies a burning orc camp.

Beneath every burning camp, countless orcs screamed, cried, rolled in the flames, and struggled in the ruins.

This is war!

(End of this chapter)