You promised to wreak havoc on the dungeon, but instead you've got Dragon Slime!

"Tonight, it's not about how many people we kill."

"It's to let Bacchus know that we're not just passively waiting, but that we have the ability to 'make his people come and deliver it themselves'."

"This battle will not officially begin until tonight."

……

The night raid failed and they retreated.

Sam retreated with less than half his men, their faces, armor, and hands covered in tiny cuts.

It's not a knife, it's an illusion cutting array.

Those wounds, though not deep on the surface, were chilling; the bleeding wouldn't stop all night.

He returned to the outer realms' allied camp, removed his helmet, and knelt directly before Bakus.

"fail."

Bacchus, holding a scepter, sat on the high platform, staring at him.

"He didn't kill you; he did it on purpose."

"He wants you to come back, to bring back the fear."

Do you think you can still fight?

Sam lowered his head and remained silent.

Bacchus stood up, his tone indifferent:

"Alright, go down and recover from your injuries."

"This battle is not urgent."

"Tonight is just the first round."

“I’d like to see how many illusions Ron can pull off.”

……

It was almost dawn.

The Shuangguxia battlefront has returned to calm.

Ron stood atop the hill, watching the sky gradually lighten in the distance, his voice low and deep:

"tomorrow."

"We took the initiative."

The terrain of Shuanggu Gorge has been completely under control, the battle lines have been firmly established, and the morale of the troops has been suppressed.

But Ron didn't tell anyone to stop.

The night raid had barely ended when, the next morning, he summoned all his officers, spread out a map, and said only one sentence:

"Enter the wasteland."

No one said no.

No one asked why.

They all knew that Ron's playing style wasn't about waiting, but about pressuring.

Regardless of whether what lies ahead is hell, step into it first.

……

The Ironbone Wasteland, though called a wasteland, is more like a "broken piece of land".

Faults and folds lined the ground, which was covered with cracks left by the dried lava.

Each piece looks like you could step on it, but it's actually hollow underneath.

The only passable path is the central, vein-like crevice—an artificial gap blasted out by the old empire when it built a transport line. It is no more than fifty meters wide, with sheared stone walls on both sides.

The allied forces from beyond the borders are hiding in the heart of this rift.

Ron led his army forward at a slow pace, not because he was dragging his feet, but because the terrain did not allow it.

Within half a day of entering the wasteland, the outpost had already collapsed three pits.

The Bone Serpent's vanguard was almost completely wiped out; it was only thanks to the tail illusion soldiers severing the sensory connection that they were rescued.

“These pits aren’t natural,” Viser said, crouching beside a collapsed area and poking at it with his spear. “They’re man-made.”

"Someone laid a trap in advance on this wasteland."

“Bacchus didn’t just arrive recently; he’s been preparing for this for a long time.”

Ron glanced at the viscous venom at the bottom of the pit and nodded: "Then let's not let him have it easy either."

“Claudia.”

"You move the defensive line back 300 meters, and advance in groups of 50 men, one group at a time. Don't rush, focus on stability."

"Dig cracks in the ground, sprinkle powder, set up markers, and pour in sticky mud."

"We need to draw a path through the wasteland."

Claudia accepted the order and went.

……

Three days later, Ron stood in the middle of the wasteland.

In those three days, the army advanced 1,300 meters.

It may seem slow, but it's actually very fast—normal people can't even walk that far. They rely on the "leyline sensing device" that Ron integrated in Snake Bone Valley beforehand, combined with the illusion mapping module, which is equivalent to building a system that "lights up wherever you go, and explodes if you go the wrong way."

This thing isn't for fighting; it's for "making the enemy take this path too."

Because once this road is laid out, if the enemy doesn't want to be trapped in one place, they will have to follow this line, which is equivalent to giving the initiative to Ron.

Viser stood beside him, speaking in a lower voice:

"We have pushed into the heart of the wasteland."

"Further ahead is their last line of cover."

"Once you cross that ridge, their camp will be revealed."

"Would you like to give it a try?"

Ron didn't speak immediately.

He stared at the faint gray line in the distance, which was dust stirred up by the wind pressure, indicating that there was movement there, and on a considerable scale.

He knew that was the main camp of the foreign alliance.

He planted the bone blade in the ground, turned it gently, and pulled it out.

The ground was dry and hard, with a slight tremor.

"It's not a test."

"It's a forward push."

"At dawn tomorrow, the entire army will advance 500 meters and establish positions on that high ground."

"The day after tomorrow, we'll be fully deployed."

"This battle will nail them to the wasteland."

“If we win, Bacchus will have to leave.”

"If we lose, we'll have no choice but to retreat to Twin Bone Gorge."

There is no third option.

Viser swallowed hard: "So...we're going to go all in?"

Ron nodded: "We won't keep them."

"We're not here to test the waters, we're here to fight a clean war."

……

That night, no one slept in the barracks.

There were no orders, but everyone knew that tomorrow would be the day of the battle.

The campfire burned all night, the blades were sharpened all night, and the armor was fastened even tighter.

No one spoke, but everyone stared into the depths of the dark, desolate wilderness in the distance, as if the toughest obstacle of their lives was hidden there.

It might be the last dish.

Ron stood outside the camp and didn't return to his tent all night.

He walked back and forth on the gray ground with his hands behind his back, as if waiting for something.

The wind was strong, and the sand pelted against the armor with a crackling sound.

As dawn broke, he looked up and whispered:

"let's start."

It gets light very quickly.

The mornings in the Ironbone Wasteland were colorless, a hazy gray, as if sand had been scattered on the sun, the entire sky a blur.

Ron stood outside the camp early in the morning, looking at the high ground hidden behind the rock formations.

Viser had just returned with his reconnaissance team, covered in dust, and spoke as he dusted himself off:

"It's confirmed. There's a temporary camp about 30 miles to the northwest, with many campfires and lots of dry rations and water bags."

"The outer perimeter is poorly defended, as if they don't intend to defend it long-term and just use it as a transit point."

Ron nodded: "It's their supply depot."

Claudia chimed in from behind: "Bacchus isn't stupid. Such a large front couldn't possibly rely on just one supply line. He must have hidden other points as well."

"But this is a transit point; if it's burned down, the enemy's forward lines will be cut off."

"The forwards can't push forward, and the defenders can't keep up, so we can only tough it out."