Tower Defense Lord, random Wishing Tower at the start of the game.

Chapter 154 First Victory

The three thousand elite Andres cavalry, led by Reis, moved silently through the rolling hills like a poisoned dagger blending into the night of the grassland.

The scouting battle took place in the darkest hour before dawn. A small patrol of Orc scouts (about twenty riders, riding coarse-haired, fanged wargs) ran into the vanguard sent by Reiss. The battle was brief and brutal. The Dragonblood Warriors, not even fully transformed into dragons, used their superhuman strength, speed, and adaptation to the darkness to cut down their enemies as easily as slicing through butter. Blades flashed in the dim starlight, the howls of the wargs and the short screams of the orcs were quickly swallowed by the vast plains, leaving only a few rapidly cooling corpses and a scene of carnage.

A heavily wounded, dying orc scout, deliberately left behind, under Reiss's intense gaze, uttered crucial information in broken, terrified orcish language: they belonged to the "Bonebreaker" tribe and were ordered to assemble in "Ironjaw" Valley. The High Priest had issued a divine decree: all tribes must immediately abandon everything and march towards the Southern Wall of Despair! "Ironjaw" Valley was one of the agreed-upon assembly points for several major nearby tribes. The elite troops of the "Ironjaw" chieftain, along with forces from the "Crackhoof" and "Bloodclaw" tribes, had already arrived—more than 20,000 strong! And even more tribes were pouring in!

Reis's heart sank. The intelligence had been leaked! The Black Orcs were not unsuspecting prey; like an enraged swarm of ants, they were rapidly coalescing into a destructive torrent. He looked up at the eastern horizon, where the first hint of dawn was breaking. There was no time to hesitate, no time to return to the walls of Desperate City to report in detail to Lin Chuan. The opportunity was fleeting—he had to deliver a crushing blow to this vanguard before the Black Orcs could complete their assembly and form a larger, more tightly packed formation!

"Ironjaw Valley—" Reiss licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust and excitement—a thirst for battle and absolute confidence in his own strength. "Twenty thousand rabble? Hmph! Pass the order! Target: Ironjaw Valley! Full speed ahead! Before sunrise, I want to see that old man's head hanging from the spearhead!" His command, delivered in low whistles and hand gestures, quickly spread throughout the army. Three thousand cavalrymen instantly accelerated, like a resurrected torrent of steel, charging headlong into the direction indicated by intelligence in the dim morning light.

The Bloodstained Morning in Ironjaw Valley: As the first rays of golden sunlight pierced the clouds and illuminated the valley, a chaotic yet bustling scene unfolded. Over twenty thousand dark orc warriors were scattered across the vast valley like a migrating herd of wildebeest. Most were dark-skinned, muscular, clad in rudimentary leather armor or bare-chested, wielding heavy stone axes, bone spears, or crude iron weapons. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, the stench of animal hides, the smoke of burning cow dung, and the low growls and shouts of countless throats. Tribal banners (usually rough wooden poles bound with animal bones or blood-stained strips of cloth) stood haphazardly, and warriors, following their respective chieftains' orders, were attempting to regroup amidst the chaos. In the center of the valley, on a simple altar built of animal bones and massive stones, Chief Ironjaw—a terrifying figure nearly three meters tall, clad in heavy iron plate armor and wielding a giant double-edged battle axe—roared angrily, urging his warriors and the other tribal leaders who had arrived late. He felt his authority as the leader of the assembly point had been challenged.

"Hurry up! You lazy maggots! Get your asses off the ground!" A centurion of the Ironjaw tribe brandished a barbed whip, lashing a slower-moving warrior. The warrior growled angrily but dared not resist. At the valley entrance, newly arrived Crackhoof warriors were arguing and shoving with the Ironjaw guards, vying for better camping spots. Most of the sentries on guard duty were exhausted, having stayed up all night, and were now rubbing their sleepy eyes, shaking their heads at the chaos in the valley. They thought, what danger could there be in their main force's assembly point, far behind the enemy lines? The high priest's oracle was to attack the city walls; the enemy was still behind them! The warmth of the rising sun, however, relaxed their nerves that had been tense all night.

Just then, a subtle yet intense tremor came from the ground.

At first, the tremors were masked by the commotion within the valley and the footsteps of the warriors. But soon, the tremors became clear and heavy, like muffled thunder rolling in from the direction of the valley entrance!

"What's that sound?" A sentry looked up in confusion.

"Is it—is it an earthquake?" Another sentry looked around blankly.

"No! Cavalry! A large number of cavalry! Enemy attack!!!" Finally, an experienced veteran let out a heart-wrenching scream, his voice distorted with extreme fear.

Before he finished speaking, a dense array of black lines suddenly appeared at the top of the gentle slope at the mouth of the valley, which served as a natural barrier!

In the fading light of dawn, Reis's three thousand cavalry completed their final acceleration and formation adjustments. Instead of launching a direct assault through the narrow valley entrance, they surged forward like a black torrent of steel, sweeping down the gentle slope's ridge with overwhelming force, plunging diagonally into the most chaotic and unprepared flank of the Orcs—where the quarreling "Crackhoof" tribe and a group of "Bloodclaw" warriors were still rearranging their equipment!

"For the glory of Andres! Kill!!!" Reis roared with a deafening dragon's roar (not fully transformed into a dragon, but the sound already contained the might of a dragon), leading the charge, his dark red blood-patterned greatsword transforming into a whirlwind of death. His black warhorse, infected by its master's ferocious aura, had bloodshot eyes and its hooves flew like the wind.

charge!

Three thousand warhorses charged forward simultaneously, their heavy hooves trampling the soft grass, the dust they kicked up instantly forming a yellow wall of smoke behind the cavalry. Dense lances were laid low, sharp sabers were drawn, and the cold glint of metal against the rising sun created a wave of death.

Bump!

Like a red-hot dagger piercing solidified butter! The front-line Dragonblood Warriors and elite cavalry, carrying immense kinetic energy, crashed into the unsuspecting ranks of the Black Orcs. The cracking of bones, the clanging of weapons clashing...

The neighing of warhorses and the dying screams of orcs erupted instantly, drowning out all other noise!

The Dragonblood Warriors' Frenzy: At the moment of impact, the dozens of Dragonblood Warriors at the forefront (including Reis's personal guards) developed fine scales on parts of their bodies, their strength, speed, and defense surging. Wielding their heavy weapons, they easily cleaved through the orcs' crude leather armor and thick bones. Limbs and torsos flew everywhere they went, blood splattering like fountains, drawing horrifying crimson trails across the grass. Their presence was like several high-speed spinning chainsaws, tearing huge, irreparable gaping wounds through the orc formation.

The cavalry's crushing blow: The pursuing cavalry, utilizing their speed and long weapons, frantically expanded their gains along the openings torn open by the Dragonblood Warriors. Spears pierced chest after chest, sabers cleaved head after head. The cavalry, losing speed, dismounted and fought on foot, forming small battle formations of three or five, ruthlessly reaping the lives of the chaotic, disorganized Black Orcs.

The timing and location of the raid were perfect. Over twenty thousand Black Orcs, most of them barely gripping their weapons, were completely thrown into disarray. Fear spread like a plague. Warriors at the front tried to resist, only to be rammed and pushed down by their terrified comrades fleeing from behind. The centurions and leaders, overseeing the battle, roared hoarsely, even hacking down deserters, but all their efforts were futile against the overwhelming cavalry charge and the inhuman carnage of the Dragonblood Warriors.

The Roar and Demise of Chief Ironjaw: In the center of the valley, Chief Ironjaw, his eyes blazing with fury, brandished his massive axe and roared as he tried to rally his elite guard for a counter-charge. "Hold on! Hold on! Kill these vile reptiles!" His enormous size and ferocious aura did temporarily stabilize a small area in the core, and several cavalrymen who charged too fast were even cleaved in two, horse and all. However, his bravery also became his most conspicuous trademark.

Reis's gaze locked onto the colossus like that of a hawk. "Your head is mine!" Reis grinned maliciously, spurring his horse's flanks and propelling it like an arrow towards "Ironjaw." The orc guards who tried to stop him were torn to shreds like paper under Reis's ferocious sword strikes. The two powerful forces collided with a deafening roar!

Chief Ironjaw's massive axe cleaved down with the force to split mountains and shatter rocks, but Reiss displayed the astonishing agility of a dragonblood warrior, dodging the fatal blow. His crimson greatsword slashed upwards, precisely striking the axe's handle! The sword, infused with dragonblood power, erupted with a blinding red light, and with a "crack," the thick, finely forged axe handle snapped in two! The chieftain stared in astonishment at his broken axe. Reiss's next attack was already upon him—the sword flashed like a venomous snake, instantly piercing his throat, a relatively weak point in his thick iron plate armor! His massive body crashed to the ground, his wide-open eyes filled with resentment and disbelief. The chieftain's death, like the final straw, utterly shattered the last vestige of resistance in the black orc.

"The chief is dead!!"

'

"Run!!"

Desperate cries echoed through the valley. The Black Orcs collapsed like an avalanche, unstoppable. The surviving warriors abandoned their armor and weapons, crying and trampling each other as they fled for their lives across the valley. Reis gave the enemy no chance to regroup.

"Chase them! Leave no one alive! Slaughter them all!" He pulled the sword from the chieftain's throat, raised the狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) head high, and issued the cold command. The cavalry began their relentless pursuit, like herding sheep. Arrows rained down on the fleeing figures, and horses' hooves trampled the wounded on the ground. In just over an hour, the entire Ironjaw Valley was transformed into a slaughterhouse. Blood soaked the grass, forming trickles of blood, and the pungent stench of blood in the air was nauseating.

As the sun fully rose and illuminated the valley, the battle was over. More than fifteen thousand Orcs lay forever buried in the red-stained grasslands, with only a few lucky ones escaping into the deeper plains. Reis's cavalry also suffered hundreds of casualties, but compared to their glorious victory, the cost was negligible. They captured a large quantity of weapons (crude, but plentiful), a few intact war wolves, and, more importantly, dealt a heavy blow to the Orcs' morale and regrouping speed. Reis impaled the massive, unseeing head of the Ironjaw chieftain on a spear, erecting it on the ruins of the altar in the center of the valley as a declaration of victory and a terrifying warning to the Orcs to come.

News of Reese's great victory spread like wildfire, relayed by his fast horse scouts and Daenerys' wolf rider scouts roaming the plains, and arrived back at the Walls of Despair at an astonishing speed.

Almost simultaneously, the elite wolf rider scout squad dispatched by Lin Chuan, personally commanded by Daenerys, returned with crucial intelligence: they had successfully pinpointed the location of the true main force of the Black Orcs—a vast basin near the "Ring of Sacred Fire" high altar deep within the grasslands! There, banners were densely packed, tents stretched like a sea, and the estimated strength far exceeded 100,000! More importantly, they observed a large number of tribes frantically converging on that direction from all directions; clearly, the High Priest's oracle was taking effect, and the Black Orcs' all-out army was rapidly taking shape!

Two intelligence reports were presented to Lin Chuan almost simultaneously.

Inside the central command tent, the atmosphere was both solemn and intense. William, Vivian, Victor, Antonia (with Theresa standing beside her in human form as a maid), Lia, and the key figures including Chief Katis were all gathered.

"Lord Reis—we've won! In Ironjaw Valley, the main vanguard of 20,000 Black Orcs has collapsed!" The messenger excitedly reported the details of the battle.

Daenerys followed closely, pointing to a simple grassland map spread out on the table: "My lord, it's confirmed! The main force of the Black Orcs is gathering at the Ring of Sacred Fire! Their momentum is there, but not yet fully consolidated! The High Priest is presiding over the core of the altar!"

Lin Chuan's gaze darted rapidly between the "Ironjaw Valley" on the map and the distant "Ring of Sacred Fire." Reis's resounding victory was like a thunderbolt cleaving through the fog! This was not merely a tactical triumph, but also a tremendous strategic opportunity:

Severe damage to the flank, exposing the core: Reis annihilated one of the important outer barriers and gathering points of the main force, which is equivalent to knocking off a claw of the enemy, exposing the flank of the main force of the Black Orcs.

Damage to morale and delays regrouping: Such a crushing defeat, especially the death of Chief Ironjaw, will inevitably cause great panic and chaos among the various Black Orc tribes that are currently gathering, slowing down their regrouping speed and coordination.

The timing is crucial: the main players' positions are clear, while the enemy, Inres, is experiencing a brief period of disarray and low morale after their victory. This is precisely when the enemy is most vulnerable and slowest to react!

"The decisive moment is here!" Lin Chuan suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with a sharp, sword-like light. His voice was resolute, filled with unwavering determination. "The Black Orcs have come out in full force; though their numbers are great, their morale is low and their formation unstable! If we wait until they fully integrate, relying on the altar's advantageous location, they will become a major threat! We must strike while they are still unsettled, striking straight at their heart!"

He strode out of the tent and climbed the towering arrow tower of the fortified city wall. The rising sun illuminated his tall figure and also lit up the massive allied army below the wall, which was already fully prepared and full of fighting spirit.

Lin Chuan took a deep breath, his voice booming like a bell, clearly echoing throughout the battlefield: "Pass on my order—!"

"William, lead the Snow Wolf Knights and the Cadis infantry as the left flank vanguard, sweeping away the remaining enemy forces along the Ironjaw Valley and striking directly at the enemy's main force's left flank!"

"Daenerys, the Wind Riders will serve as scouts and patrols for the entire army, concealing the battlefield and cutting off small reinforcements!"

"Antonia—" Lin Chuan's gaze fell upon the Holy Dragon Knight, filled with boundless trust and expectation. "Follow my central army and charge straight at the enemy chieftain, the Black Orc High Priest! In this battle, we must slay his head and seize his Holy Fire Source (divinity)!"

"All troops—out of the pass! Target: the Ring of Sacred Flame! In this battle, there is no retreat, victory is assured!!!"

"Victory! Victory! Victory!!!" A roar like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami erupted from beneath the city walls and from the military camps, the sound waves soaring into the sky, even the ancient bricks of the city walls seemed to tremble slightly.

The heavy city gates slowly swung open amidst the roar of the winches. William led the way, followed by the Snow Wolf Knights, who surged forth like a silver torrent; close behind them was the Catis infantry phalanx, their steps firm and their spears like a forest.

The massive war machine roared into action, unstoppable and like a flood bursting its banks, surging out of the walls of the desperate city and launching a fateful charge toward the "Ring of Sacred Fire," the symbol of the Black Orcs' faith and power deep in the grasslands!

Meanwhile, at the distant "Ring of Sacred Fire" altar, sensing the soaring aura of slaughter and the violent fluctuations of the torrent of faith rising from the south, the high priest, clad in a feathered robe, let out a desperate and frenzied shriek, urging the warriors surrounding him, like a black ocean, to prepare for the inevitable and brutal final battle. The horizon of the grasslands was completely shrouded in the shadow of war.