Transmigrated with a Demon-Refining Pot: Hehehe, Refine in an instant

At dawn, the mountain pass was filled with the stench of blood.

The orc camp appeared this morning, right a kilometer away from Ron and his group, where they set up camp.

Now, as morning has passed, the orc camp in the distance has become bustling with activity, the sounds of war drums, roars, and horns blending together, making it far more chaotic than when we first arrived.

The scouts sent out by the Viscount rode back from the front lines, their movements so distorted that they landed awkwardly on their saddles.

Ron and his team received intelligence.

The scout, panting heavily, said, "Leading the way are the lizardmen of the Thornscale tribe, followed by the goatmen of the Ironhorn tribe, each tribe having at least three or four thousand people."

He swallowed hard.

"There are other orc races behind us; I'm afraid we won't be able to stop them."

Ron's expression was grave as Lauen approached from behind:

"My lord, Viscount Daniel has ordered all battalions to send half their forces to the front lines. As for us..."

"We don't need that here," Ron interrupted him.

Laun paused for a moment, then understood. The camps on both sides of the hillside were originally for surveillance purposes, to prevent orcs from launching a flanking attack.

No matter how fierce the battles on the front lines are, it's not their place to fill the gaps.

"Get the brothers in spirit," Ron said sternly.

"If anyone manages to get close, this side will be the first hurdle."

The battle had just begun on the front lines when the sun moved to the south.

The lizardmen of the Thornscale tribe charged to the front. They were slender and covered in fine scales, making them appear quite formidable.

And they were quick on their feet, carrying short spears and rattan shields, moving freely among the rocks.

Following behind were the goat-men of the Ironhorn tribe, their curved, sharp horns and thick thighs like iron barrels, each capable of leaping several meters in a single bound, clinging tightly to the lizardmen's backs.

Ron stood on the hillside, watching the orcs surge toward the camp like a flood, and was momentarily stunned.

Looking towards the direction of the main battlefield.

From some distance, the details were not clear, but one could see a torrent crashing against the fence built by the camp.

The fence seemed made of paper and would break at the slightest touch. The two sides clashed, splashing up waves of red.

Shouts of battle, screams of agony, and the clash of weapons blended together.

Ron ordered his men, "Keep a close watch on the woods and don't let the orcs get close."

The soldiers on the hillside gripped their weapons tightly, staring at the dense woods before them.

The battle cries from the main battlefield echoed in waves, making everyone's heart tighten, but no one moved.

An hour passed, then two hours passed.

The battle cries on the main battlefield grew louder and louder.

Occasional rustling came from the dense forest on the hillside; it was a few scattered orcs trying to flank. Ron's soldiers fired several volleys of arrows, felling seven or eight, and the rest retreated.

Ron leaned against the fence, watching Hart and his men's vigilant patrol.

Suddenly, a commotion arose on the left side of the hillside.

"Sir!" Hart ran over and pointed down the hillside.

Something's up!

Ron looked in the direction he was pointing.

Dozens of goat-men emerged from the pile of rocks at the foot of the hill. Instead of charging straight ahead, they used the terrain as cover and rushed up the hillside.

Ron counted; less than a hundred. Not many. He guessed they wanted to capture this high ground.

"Archers, prepare," he said.

"The goat-men are too fast; don't let them get close enough."

The soldiers, hiding behind the fence, gripped their spears and watched the approaching goat-men.

Two hundred steps... one hundred steps...

"Release the arrows!"

Arrows rained down on the goat-men. Only a few, struck in vital areas, fell to the ground.

The tough-skinned orcs took several arrows, but only paused briefly before continuing their charge.

The distance of one hundred paces was covered by the goat-man's hooves, and he reached the fence in just a dozen or so leaps.

"Spear!"

The soldier at the front thrust his spear forward, piercing the stomach of a goat-man. The man howled and fell backward, but the others rushed forward.

In particular, there are also warriors among the orcs who possess the power of life force comparable to knights. Ordinary soldiers cannot withstand more than two moves from these warriors.

They lost two or three soldiers as soon as they made contact with Ron's side.

Fortunately, the knights, including Lauenhart, immediately stepped in and stopped the orc warriors from slaughtering.

Ron didn't bother to hide his strength anymore, since this encampment was only for his own people, and the other lords were all stuck on the front lines.

Moreover, it doesn't matter if our strength is exposed. If you're not satisfied, go talk to Laun and Hart. The balance of power has shifted!

Ron drew his sword, his fighting spirit swirling, and with one strike he felled one of them.

He was clad in full armor, with a shield surrounding him, and attacked relentlessly. In just a few breaths, all the orcs in front of Ron fell to the ground.

An enraged orc warrior on the other side charged at Ron, shouting in a language he couldn't understand.

Ron didn't dodge, but instead swung his sword to meet the attack head-on. As a result, the orc's bone club was cleaved open, and he was knocked back two steps.

Ron sensed the opponent's strength in the Dao of Qi and Blood, and estimated it to be roughly equivalent to that of a mid-level knight squire.

After personally experiencing the orc's life force, Ron didn't linger. He unleashed his fighting spirit and defeated the orc in just over ten moves.

Normal high-ranking knight squires don't have such strength, but Ron is a special case.

Not only is his fighting spirit superior, but he also completely outclasses the orcs in terms of strength, where they have an advantage, and his equipment is far superior as well.

They only attacked and didn't defend, which is why they only won in a dozen or so rounds.

The shield blocked the attack for him, and the light from the energy stone dimmed slightly.

The battle lasted less than fifteen minutes. Fifty or sixty of the hundred or so goat-men fell, and the rest turned and ran, disappearing into the pile of rocks.

Ron sheathed his sword and glanced at the corpse on the ground.

"Clean things up, finish off those that need finishing off, and dig out any with cores."

"Then drag the body to the edge of the woods, so it doesn't block the way."

Ron did not rashly collect the orc corpses, including those killed the previous night.

With so many people and eyes around in the area, Ron couldn't be sure if any of the lords were cunning old foxes who had sent people to spy on them.

The bodies are all gone; it's obvious there's something fishy going on.

Ron was unwilling to take any risks of exposure, not even revealing his spatial equipment.

Even the cheapest spatial equipment is worth tens of thousands of gold dragons. Ron's space is not small either. He asked Liulichuan about the price, and this spatial bracelet is worth more than 5 gold dragons.

The soldiers began to work, dragging the heavy carcasses of the goat-men into the woods.

Ron walked up to Ron with a somber expression:

"Sir, we have suffered six casualties, more than a dozen seriously wounded, and the rest are all slightly injured."

Ron's face turned ashen upon hearing about the battle damage. After a moment's thought, he called Laun into the tent.

He took out the pre-prepared "healing potion" from the bracelet and handed it to Laun:

"Distribute these healing potions to the wounded soldiers and get them back to fighting strength as quickly as possible. Be careful not to lose any more men."

Lauen stepped down.

The soldiers and knights in better condition continued to keep a vigilant watch over their surroundings, while the fighting continued down the hillside.

Finally, the sun began to set in the west.

The sounds of fighting on the main battlefield gradually subsided.

The orcs withdrew their troops, and Viscount Daniel summoned all the lords to a meeting at the foot of the mountain.