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

Chapter 164 Orc Invasion

Dawn on the Crimson Plains is always tinged with the stench of rust and dried blood. The wind whips through the exposed, reddish-brown rocks, producing a mournful sound, as if the ravaged land is weeping. The Eagle's Beak watchtower, standing at the entrance to Blackrock Canyon, is the Lin Chuan forces' most forward reach into the Crimson Plains, and the first line of defense protecting the main city of Rockheart and Dragonbreath Plains behind it. This three-story tower, constructed of sturdy obsidian and enchanted steel, appears solitary and austere in the dim morning light. Driven by its energy core, the warning runes atop the tower emit a stable pale blue glow, vigilantly scanning the orc-infested wasteland beyond the canyon.

Commander Blake, a veteran with a scarred face and hawk-like eyes, stood atop the watchtower, rubbing his face, which was numb from the cold. He belonged to Daenerys's wolf rider scout unit and was one of the few elite soldiers assigned to fixed outposts. His gaze was fixed on the horizon of the plain shrouded in mist beyond the canyon.

Last night, a secret report from Field (disguised as Simon) in Ironstone City arrived: three thousand orc vanguard members, a part of the "Bloodclaw" legion, are approaching in this direction.

"Boss, something's happening!" The young lookout beside him said tautly, pointing towards the horizon. The thin mist was being stirred, and a writhing black line was rapidly spreading towards the watchtower, like a murky tide. A muffled tremor, like the heartbeat of the earth, could be faintly heard from afar.

"All personnel on high alert! Highest level of readiness!" Blake's voice instantly amplified through the tower's magical loudspeakers, piercing the morning silence. Fifty well-equipped sword-and-shield infantrymen, twenty crossbowmen, ten mage apprentices operating the small magical crossbows atop the tower, and several logistics personnel responsible for communications and energy maintenance, instantly took their positions. The sounds of metal scraping, bows being cocked, and the hum of the power cores accelerating mingled together, creating an atmosphere of grim determination.

The black lines quickly became clear, transforming into a vanguard of three thousand orc warriors. They were burly, with sickly dark green or deep brown skin, muscles knotted like rocks, and wore simple but thick studded leather armor or rusted metal shields.

Chest. Leading the group was an exceptionally tall orc, riding a ferocious black cleaver with protruding fangs and scarlet battle markings on his face. He was none other than the vanguard commander, "Shattered Tooth" Gulk. In his hand he carried a massive two-handed battle axe covered in serrated edges and dried blood scabs, his eyes filled with cruel and bloodthirsty excitement.

Gulkler reined in his mount, stopping just outside the effective range of the magic crossbow, and grinned, letting out a maniacal laugh that sounded like a broken gong: "Hahaha! Cowardly human insects! Hiding in the tower trembling in fear? Come out! Let 'Shattertooth' chop off your heads and use them as drinking bowls!" His roar carried the unique, mind-altering power of an orc's battle cry, attempting to shake the will of the defenders.

His response was the shrill whistle of the magic ballista atop the tower as it charged. A blinding beam of arcane energy ripped through the air, striking the ground precisely in front of him, blasting a scorched crater and sending debris flying.

"Warning shot! One more step and you're dead!" Blake's cold voice came through amplification magic, clear and firm.

Gurker's smile grew even more ferocious, but a glint of cunning flashed in his eyes. He raised his battle axe, not to order a charge, but to roar in a mocking tone, "This little tickle? Not enough! Men, show these rats hiding in their shells what a real 'greeting' looks like!"

With his roar, dozens of catapults made of rough wood and animal hides were rapidly deployed from the orc ranks. These crude machines creaked and groaned under the brute force of the orcs. They were not filled with boulders, but with clumps of objects wrapped in animal hides, soaked in sticky grease, and reeking of foul odor.

"Release!" Gurke commanded.

hum!hum!hum!

Dozens of "packages" engulfed in a ghastly green flame were hurled high into the air, tracing parabolic arcs as they hurtled towards the watchtower. Most were blocked by the magical barrier surrounding the tower, exploding as the green flames and foul-smelling slime spread and burned across the barrier, emitting a sizzling, corrosive sound. The barrier's light visibly dimmed slightly. However, a few managed to slip through the barrier and strike the tower's structure and the ground beneath it.

Boom! Boom!

"Beasts!" The soldiers inside the tower, witnessing this scene, were filled with rage, their furious roars and suppressed vomiting sounds rising simultaneously. This method of desecrating corpses and using terror to psychologically attack the enemy was a common tactic of the orcish "Bloodclaw" legion, extremely cruel and effective.

"Hold your ground! Crossbowmen, target the enemy catapult operator! Mages, concentrate your magic to maintain the barrier and purify the corruption!" Blake commanded steadily, his voice barely suppressing the churning in his stomach and the raging fire within him. He knew all too well that anger would cloud reason, and that was exactly what the orcs wanted.

Crossbow bolts rained down on the orcish catapult positions. Several orc operators fell with screams of agony. Inside the tower, the mage apprentices, pale-faced, desperately channeled their magic into the runic core at the top, attempting to dispel the corrosive energy and foul flames on the barrier.

The barrier's light stabilized with great difficulty, but at a huge cost.

"Hmph, interesting." Gulk licked his fangs, his eyes gleaming with even greater cruelty. "First team, 'Berserkers, charge! Tear their turtle shells apart!'"

"Waaagh!!!"

The deafening battle cry rang out again, and about three hundred of the largest orc "Berserkers," whose muscles seemed to burst through their leather armor, formed a loose formation. Their eyes were bloodshot, and they wielded huge warhammers or heavy axes, charging towards the watchtower like out-of-control war machines! Their bodies shimmered with the bloodthirsty red light cast by the shaman, and they moved with incredible speed, ignoring the crossbow bolts that were being fired.

Arrows struck their thick muscles and rudimentary armor, causing only superficial wounds unless they hit vital organs, which only fueled their ferocity.

"Infantry, raise your shields! Hold the line of fire! Magic crossbows, switch to armor-piercing explosive rounds, target group charge!" Blake calmly gave the order.

The sword-and-shield infantry quickly erected heavy tower shields at the base of the tower and several potential weak points, spears protruding from the gaps in the shields to form a steel thorn. The magic ballistae at the top of the tower recharged, this time firing not beams of energy, but metal projectiles coated with unstable magic.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The projectiles exploded in the path of the berserkers' charge, sending shrapnel and shockwaves flying. Instantly, over a dozen berserkers were blasted to pieces, limbs and fragments flying everywhere. But more berserkers, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, roared even more frenziedly, their speed increasing instead of decreasing! They slammed their bodies against the heavy shield defenses at the base of the tower and against the tower itself!

boom! boom! boom!

The impact, like a battering ram, was dull and terrifying. The tower trembled slightly, and rubble rained down. The sword-and-shield infantry at the forefront were deathly pale, blood trickling from their mouths and noses. The immense force of the impact transmitted through their shields to their bodies, nearly tearing their internal organs apart.

Shattered. They held their shields tightly, using their shoulders and the strength of their entire bodies to withstand the orcs' ferocious charge. Spears thrust out repeatedly, piercing through the orcs that charged in front of the shields, but even when pierced, the ferocious orcs would still slam their battle axes into the shields before dying, producing a piercing scraping sound.

"Hold on! Don't retreat!" the infantry captain roared, his voice trembling. The defensive line began to warp under immense pressure. Just as the base of the tower was bearing the brunt of the attack, and everyone's attention was drawn to the ferocious frontal charge, Gurke's lips curled into a sinister smile. He made a concealed gesture behind him.

Dozens of figures moved silently from the flanks of the orc army, like phantoms. They were relatively lean, exceptionally agile, and clad in dark leather armor, almost the same color as the rocks. Their bodies were smeared with mud and herbal juices to mask their scent, and they wielded poisoned short blades and barbed rope hooks. They were the "Headhunter" squad of the "Bloodclaw" Legion, specializing in stealth, climbing, and assassination.

Using the jagged rocks and shadows at the canyon entrance as cover, these headhunters stealthily approached the watchtower's base like geckos. The watchtower was designed primarily for frontal assaults; although steep, it was not insurmountable for these skilled orc assassins.

The lookout atop the tower was intently observing the main battlefield and the movements of the orcish forces in the distance, the fluctuations of the magical barrier obscuring even the slightest sounds. A headhunter hurled a barbed rope up a firing port on the second floor, pulled it taut, and, after confirming its stability, began to climb upwards like a monkey. His movements were light and swift, almost silent. Then, a second, a third—dozens of headhunters, like a persistent plague, began to climb from the sides and rear of the tower.

"Up there! On the tower! Something's climbing!" A logistics soldier on the second floor of the tower, responsible for passing arrows to the crossbowmen, inadvertently...

He caught a glimpse of a dark figure moving quickly outside the window and screamed in terror.

But it was too late!

The first headhunter to scale the second-floor firing port slipped through the narrow window like a venomous snake, his poisoned dagger flashing coldly in the dim light. The supply soldier who spotted him only had time for a short scream before his throat was slit. Then, more headhunters emerged from various windows and even the ventilation shafts into the tower!

The carnage erupted instantly within the confined space of the tower!

These headhunters, like reapers lurking in the shadows, didn't seek direct confrontation, but instead used the tower's intricate structure and narrow passages for sneak attacks. Crossbowmen, focused on suppressing the berserkers below, were easily killed by poisoned blades thrust from behind or the side. Sword and shield infantry, their attention fixed on the tower's entrance, were completely unprepared for attacks from above and within. Mage apprentices were even more vulnerable targets, often suffering throat slits or heart piercings in a single encounter.

"Enemy attack! Inside! Enemies on the upper floors!" A piercing alarm blared inside the tower, but chaos had already spread.

Blake heard the screams and fighting below from the top of the tower, and his heart sank. He knew the worst had happened!

The orcs drew all attention and firepower with their ferocious frontal charge; their real killing move was these stealthy, climbing headhunters!

"Damn it! Everyone! Abandon the lower levels and retreat towards the top of the tower! Block the stairs!" Blake roared decisively.

At the same time, he personally picked up a heavy crossbow, aimed it at a headhunter who was trying to climb in through a third-floor window, and pulled the trigger.

*Thud!* A poisoned crossbow bolt pierced the orc's skull.

But there were too many headhunters, and they had successfully created chaos inside the tower. The spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower...

It became a bloody meat grinder. The remaining defenders fought and retreated, trying to establish a defensive line on the narrow staircase, but the headhunters, like leeches, kept emerging from the shadows, their poisoned blades cunningly aimed at the soldiers' vitals. Every second, soldiers fell.

Sensing the chaos and weakened resistance within the tower, the berserkers at the base of the tower surged forward with even greater ferocity. Under the relentless corrosion and impact, the magical barrier finally flickered a few times before extinguishing completely! Without the barrier's protection, the tower was exposed to the orcs' attack.

"The barrier is broken! Smash it!" Gurke roared excitedly.

The berserkers used their bodies, battle axes, and even massive logs they had hastily acquired to frantically ram the heavy metal door at the base of the tower and the surrounding stone walls. Each impact caused the entire tower to shake violently, and cracks began to spread across the walls.

At the top of the tower, Blake was left with fewer than ten wounded soldiers. Below the stairs, headhunters surged in like a tide. Outside the tower, a dark, menacing army of orcs roared with bloodlust.

An atmosphere of despair enveloped everyone.

Blake glanced at the communication array; its core rune had been destroyed by a headhunter with a poisoned blade during the chaos, preventing the transmission of more detailed battle information to the rear. A resolute glint flashed in his eyes, and he abruptly pulled a crystal engraved with emergency runes from his robes. This was Daenerys's last resort for every forward outpost commander—a positioning beacon and information storage crystal.

He poured his last bit of magic into the crystal, which instantly lit up with a blinding red light, recording the final moments of the watchtower: the fierce battle inside, the surging orcs outside, and the ferocious face of Commander Gulk.

"For the Lord! The Heart of Rock, Never Give Up!" With all his might, Blake slammed the red-glowing crystal into the energy core at the top of the tower!

Boom!!!

A deafening roar, far more violent than any previous explosion, resounded! The energy core was forcibly overloaded and detonated! A blinding white light instantly engulfed the entire top of the tower, followed by a violent energy shockwave and flames, like a blooming flower of death, sweeping down from the highest point of the Eagle's Beak Watchtower!

The tower's structure disintegrated instantly in the explosion, scattering debris and burning fragments like meteors. The headhunters climbing the tower and the berserkers near the top were caught in the sudden, self-destructive blast and instantly reduced to ashes. The violent tremors caused the tower to groan under the strain, and massive cracks spread rapidly like a spiderweb to its base.

Rumble!

Under the immense destructive force of the attack from both inside and outside, the Eagle Beak Watchtower, which symbolized the forefront of Lin Chuan's forces, finally could not withstand the pressure. It let out a final cry, broke in the middle, and then collapsed in the direction of Black Stone Canyon!

Smoke and dust billowed into the sky, obscuring the sun, mingling with the stench of blood, gunpowder, and ozone leaking from the energy core. A tremendous roar echoed through the canyon for a long time.

Gurker stood at a safe distance, gazing at the watchtower reduced to a vast ruin, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. The shockwave from the explosion ruffled his disheveled hair. Of the three thousand vanguards he had brought, he had lost about a hundred berserkers and dozens of headhunters—a smaller loss than he had anticipated.

"Ugh! A bunch of spineless insects, at least they made a loud explosion at the end." He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, then hoisted his...

"Go, turn the ruins upside down! See if there are any survivors, especially that commander's head! Find it for me! I want to use his skull as a new wine glass! Also, hang all the human corpses you can find on the stakes in front! Let those who come later see the consequences of resisting the Bloodclaws!"

The orc soldiers howled with excitement, lunging like hyenas at the still-smoking, burning ruins. They roughly rummaged through stones and twisted metal, searching for possible survivors and valuable loot. Soon, several relatively intact human soldiers' corpses were dragged out, their ankles bound with rough ropes, and they were hung upside down from makeshift wooden stakes. The bodies swayed slightly in the morning breeze, blood dripping onto the red earth. An orc shaman stepped forward and began chanting in a piercing tone, blasphemous dark energy enveloping the corpses, giving them an eerie bluish-black hue.

Gulke stood with his hands on his hips, admiring his "masterpiece"—the burning ruins, the hanging corpses, and the pervasive aura of death. He made a throat-slitting gesture towards the main city of Rockheart.

"See that, Lin Chuan? This is just the beginning! Blood Butcher—Lord Kahn's army is right behind us! Your end is nigh! Waaagh!!!"