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

Chapter 155 Battle of the Holy Blood River

The sunlight, obscured by thick dust, cast a dim, yellowish glow, illuminating countless animal hide armor, crude bone weapons, and silent, colossal mounts. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, the smell of leather, and a restless, low growl, like countless wild beasts rumbling in their throats. In the distance, the outline of the city walls of Desperate City loomed in the dust, like a gaping wound between life and death. This was the battlefield, a place of clashing swords and clashing armor, where the oppressive atmosphere of death was suffocating.

Mori was huddled at the edge of the spear formation, the rough wooden handles digging into his palms.

He wore ill-fitting, mud-stained leather armor, left by his dead brother, carrying an indelible smell of sweat and—rust? No, Mori knew it was the smell of blood.

He came from a remote, impoverished tribe; his name meant "silent stream." He should have been herding the tribe's nobles' few emaciated, cleft-hoofed cattle by the stream, listening to the tinkling of cowbells and watching the drifting clouds. His family had over a dozen hungry mouths; his elderly parents, hunched over, carried heavy sacks of timber and grain to the rear camp, while his younger siblings were emaciated and pale with hunger. War? That was something for noble lords to fight for glory and land. He only wanted to exchange this service for a few sacks of life-saving food.

But the lord's summons was like a plague on the grasslands, impossible to escape.

Apart from the infant in swaddling clothes, everyone in the house who could breathe was brought over.

His older brother, the one who always took him to the river to catch fish and shrimp, the one with the hearty laughter, had been assigned to the elite Crackhoof Cavalry a few days earlier. Then, the news struck him like a cold stone—that cavalry unit had encountered a terrifying human cavalry force in Ironjaw Valley and had been completely wiped out.

Brother—gone. Moridi gripped the spear tightly, her knuckles white. Before her eyes, she seemed to see the clear stream again, her brother holding a large, lively fish up to her, water droplets glistening in the sunlight—that scene would never return.

"Brother, you always say that you shouldn't be at the forefront of a war."

"Why you~"

Mori felt a sharp pain in her heart.

He didn't want to fight; if he had a choice, he would rather go hungry at home.

At least my older brother, younger brother, father, and mother are all by my side.

But in war, everyone is dragged to the battlefield.

My brother is dead.

Where are my father and mother?

They were also transporting supplies from the rear.

The oldest in the family is Molière, but the Beast God is only four years old.

This is already the biggest one.

The four-year-old had to take care of five kids even younger than him.

The poor orc's child is precocious, but he's not four years old.

Molière.

"I'm afraid I'll starve to death if I go back."

"None of my younger brothers will survive."

Thinking of this, Moridi felt another pang of pain in her heart.

He longed to go back and wanted the war to end as soon as possible.

But at that moment...

"Thump! Thump! Thump—!"

The dull, deafening sound of war drums pounded out of nowhere, like the heartbeat of a giant beast, instantly tearing apart the oppressive silence and striking Moridi's heart hard. He looked up sharply, his heart feeling as if it were being gripped by an icy hand. On the horizon, flags pierced the dim, yellowish dust, like bloodthirsty raptors spreading their wings.

Humanity's flags! Red flags with golden lions, blue flags with silver moons, and that most conspicuous, most chilling black flag embroidered with a ferocious dragon's head! They belong to the humans within the walls of Desperate City!

Maurice's stomach clenched, a chilling fear creeping up her spine and through her entire body. She smelled the scent of death, thick as a rotting swamp. Her brother had probably fallen in a similar way, hadn't he? Next, it would be her. She thought desperately, her body trembling uncontrollably, wanting only to shrink into the earth beneath her feet.

"Mom, I'm scared!"

"Dad, where are you?"

"Brother, I don't want to die."

Mori whispered, but he dared not say it aloud.

The orc captain behind him was brandishing a leather whip.

They slammed their weapons down on the orcs.

Not far away, a short goat-man was beaten until his skin was torn and bleeding.

"You little rascals."

"This is a war against humanity."

"They've come to seize our land. If they don't want to starve, give them a good beating!"

The orc noble roared viciously.

But Mori knew that they would starve to death if humans didn't come.

They themselves have no desire to fight.

Only the nobles wanted to fight.

At the heart of the massive orc army, on a high ground, stood a crude altar made of bones and obsidian.

At the top of the altar, the Black Orc High Priest "Skullbreaker" Grom was covered in dark red totem paint, his withered fingers tightly gripping a staff with an irregular dark red crystal at the top—a fragment of the ancient fire god's shattered divine essence.

His cloudy eyes burned with fanatical flames as he stared intently at the distant human army formation, uttering incomprehensible roars. Surrounding him were dozens of equally bizarrely dressed grassland shamans, each wielding various bone artifacts, forming an ominous legion of mages.

Below the altar, the massive, towering Black Orc chieftain "Ironjaw" Kargath (who had succeeded his predecessor, slain by Reis) paced restlessly. He had just heard a scout's trembling report: a detachment responsible for transporting supplies and reserves to the main force had been utterly annihilated in the rear grasslands by an elite human cavalry force, led by none other than Reis!

"It's Reis again! That viper!" Kargath slammed his fist on the rough stone map stand, the sound dull thudding through him. "He's like a hyena on the plains, always tearing at our most vulnerable spot! Our supply lines could be cut off at any moment!"

High Priest Grom's roar sharpened, and the shattered divine essence at the top of his staff flashed a dangerous red light: "Divine pronouncement! The threat comes from the other side! The cancer must be eradicated immediately! Otherwise, the sacred fire will be extinguished!" His withered finger pointed to the approximate area on the map where the Reis cavalry had last appeared.

Kargath's eyes flashed with ferocity: "Then crush him! Immediately dispatch the Bloodfang and Bonebreaker cavalry units, each with ten thousand men, to flank him from both sides and block him on the plains! Front—" He looked ahead at the turbulent, wide river called the "River of Holy Blood," the only path for the human invasion. "The front will be defended by me and the High Priest! Build fortifications on the riverbanks, let their heads fill the riverbed! Let their blood stain the Holy River red, a sacrifice to the great god of fire!" He immediately ordered a large number of laborers and slaves to hastily construct simple wooden and stone fortifications on the riverbanks, setting up chevaux-de-frise and caltrops, while archers and shaman legions stood ready behind the fortifications. The two massive cavalry units began to break away from the main formation, like two black torrents surging towards the flanks, their banners pointing directly at Reis.

The towering gates of the city walls slowly rose. Lin Chuan, clad in dark light armor, stood atop the central command platform, his gaze sharp as an eagle's. He had already discerned the orcs' movements through Daenerys's ever-present Swiftwind Wolf Rider scouts.

"Kargas and Grom have taken the bait." Lin Chuan's voice was calm yet carried an undeniable force. "They've sent two main cavalry units to encircle and annihilate Reiss. Excellent, that's exactly what we wanted."

He turned to the messenger: "Order: The Catis family infantry legion, advance! Target: Holy Blood River! Execute 'Mist' plan as scheduled!"

"Yes, sir!" The messenger rushed off.

The battle to cross the river quietly began.

Several days earlier, in the safe rear area, the artisans and conscripted laborers of the Catis family had been working day and night. Instead of building heavy, large ships, they used felled giant logs and tough animal hides to mass-produce lightweight, shallow-draft rafts covered with skin and simple floating bridge components. These river-crossing tools were easy to disassemble and transport, and also easy to assemble quickly on the battlefield.

Lin Chuan chose a relatively calm but slightly swift bend in the Holy Blood River (point A) as the actual crossing point. However, to mislead the orcs, while the main force secretly assembled at point A, a feint attack force led by Victor, consisting of a small number of elite infantry and a large number of peasant soldiers feigning strength, attacked at a calmer section of the river with open banks upstream (point B).

(Point) launched a massive "river crossing preparation".

On the riverbank at point B, human soldiers openly felled trees, constructing numerous rafts which they then launched into the water. The soldiers shouted and gestured as if carrying equipment and assembling their ranks. Victor, sparing no magical energy, unleashed several powerful but deliberately suppressed "Flame Storms" above the river at point B. Huge fireballs roared towards the opposite bank, igniting the dry grass and creating thick smoke and chaos. Simultaneously, several empty rafts adorned with flags were pushed into the middle of the river, drifting downstream to draw the fire of orc archers.

This series of actions successfully led the orc commander Kargath and High Priest Grom to concentrate their defensive focus and precious shamanic power on the riverbank at point B. They reinforced the fortifications there, archers drew their bows, and shamans began chanting area-of-effect spells, preparing for the human "main force" to cross the river.

While the orcs' attention was firmly drawn to the fireworks and noise at point B, the real killing move was launched at point A!

In the darkest hour before dawn, the elite infantry of the Catis family surged like a silent tide to the riverbank at point A. A large number of leather-covered rafts, already prepared, were swiftly launched into the water. The first to board the rafts were William's carefully selected, heavily armored...

Elite infantry of the Snow Wolf Knights, wielding massive shields! They crouched on the raft like steel reefs.

"Cross the river! For the lord! For our homeland!" roared the commander of the Cadis infantry legion.

"For the lord! For our homeland!" A deep and resolute roar echoed along the riverbank.

Hundreds of rafts left the shore at the same time, like arrows released from a bow, rushing towards the opposite bank!

However, the orcs were not entirely unprepared. Although their main force had been moved to point B, a considerable number of guard troops were still deployed along the riverbank at point A. As the rafts rushed into the middle of the river and entered the range of arrows, a piercing shriek erupted from behind the arrow towers and ramparts on the opposite bank!

"Release the arrows!"

"Whoa—! The human bastards are here! Shoot them all!"

A dense hail of bone arrows and stone arrows rained down like a torrential downpour, crashing into the rafts crossing the river with a piercing whistling sound. The arrows struck the steel shields with a sickening clang, sending sparks flying. Some arrows pierced the rafts' skin, while unfortunate soldiers were struck through the gaps in the shields, groaning as they fell into the icy river, instantly swept away by the swift current, leaving only a spreading pool of crimson blood.

"Hold your ground! Raise your shields! Paddle forward!" the officers roared hoarsely. The oarsmen paddled desperately, ignoring the rain of death falling from above. On the river, the rafts struggled forward amidst the hail of arrows, soldiers falling one after another, rafts being pierced and taking on water, but the entire vanguard line stubbornly continued its advance towards the opposite bank.

Just then, several sharp horns rang out from the orcish ranks on the opposite bank. A dozen or so steppe shamans, clad in simple leather robes and with their faces painted, appeared behind the ramparts. They brandished bone staffs, pointing them at the river, chanting incantations. Above the river, dark red energy began to gather, and the air became scorching and distorted—a harbinger of a fire-based area-of-effect spell!

"Shaman! It's a shaman's fireball!" terrified shouts rang out from the river-crossing troops.

If these fireballs were to land among the dense array of rafts, the consequences would be unimaginable! The river-crossing force would suffer a devastating blow!

At this critical moment, from the rear of the human army, a clear, cold voice, like moonlight, rang out: "Frost, heed my command!" Vivian stood beside Lin Chuan, azure magical light radiating from her. With a light tap of her staff, powerful frost magic erupted forth!

"Ice Barrier!"

A massive, translucent ice wall, radiating a chilling aura, instantly solidified above the river, blocking the shaman's fireball's trajectory!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Several blazing fireballs slammed into the ice wall, unleashing a deafening roar and billowing steam. The ice wall trembled violently, and huge cracks appeared on its surface, but it ultimately did not break, successfully intercepting this fatal blow! Shattered ice and scalding steam fell into the river, hissing as they fell.

"Long live Lady Vivian!" The river-crossing troops erupted in cheers of relief, their morale soaring!

Taking advantage of the brief lull in the shaman's spells being blocked and the archers being distracted by the shock of the clash of ice and fire, the first batch of rafts finally rushed onto the riverbank!

"Land! Kill—!" William, leading the charge, let out a thunderous roar that shook the battlefield (not a skill, but an aura). He was the first to leap off the raft, his greatsword sweeping across, cleaving several charging orc warriors in two, weapons and all! Behind him, the elite Snow Wolf Knights, like tigers descending from the mountains, roared as they crashed into the hastily assembled orc lines. A fierce melee erupted on the banks of the Holy Blood River! Blood instantly stained the sand and stones of the riverbed.

The river-crossing battle, this brutal prelude, at the cost of human blood, painstakingly tore a hole in the orcish defenses. The real meat grinder had only just begun to operate. And in the distance, two massive orcish cavalry forces, like black iron pincers, were closing in fiercely on the direction from which Reiss's isolated army had ventured deep into enemy territory.