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

the next day.

After settling things at the camp, Ron led his men toward the market inside the castle.

The market in Sandstone Fortress was small, but it had a fairly complete supply of military supplies.

Ron made a round and took the opportunity to sell all the spoils he had captured from the battlefield, such as armor and ironware, and exchange them for the Golden Dragon.

We bought a lot of each item: food, bandages, and bottles.

When they came across a weapons shop, they even bought a huge spiked club.

Even a high-ranking knight's squire like Laun had to use his battle aura to wield it due to its weight.

However, Ron used it as if it were his own arm.

Next time you go to the battlefield, an enemy can wipe you out with a single graze; it's a perfect counter to armor.

After buying the basic supplies, Ron found an alchemy shop.

Ron's necklace magic shield is consuming energy too quickly. He's almost used up all the energy stones he bought before, so he has to buy another batch to keep on hand.

This magical shield was a great help to Ron on the chaotic battlefield, allowing him to unleash his full power without any worries.

Ron also inquired about the price of this equipment at the alchemy shop.

"My lord, such high-quality equipment can only be made by formal mages, and it also comes at a considerable cost. Our merchant guild has one such prized possession, priced at 20,000 gold dragons," the manager flattered.

"However, this piece of equipment of yours has been used quite a few times and is worn out, so the price can only be reduced by 30%."

The shield cannot be used indefinitely just by equipping an energy stone; it also has a usage limit. Frequently breaking the shield will cause damage to the equipment.

Upon hearing the price, Ron was dumbfounded, thinking to himself, "We're both from marquis families, so why is Buck so useless? He didn't even reveal any good stuff."

Ron planned to go back and reward Liulichuan properly; she was such a little rich girl, popping up gold coins with just one poke.

Let's reward her with a cream puff.

Ron had misunderstood Buck. The Liuli River was the culmination of hundreds of years of accumulation by the Marquis family, which was all released during their escape.

These treasures are usually very precious; it's considered good if each member of the direct line has even one.

After buying energy stones at the store, he also bought a large amount of potions, spent all the gold dragons he had stolen from Buck and Victor, and even paid a considerable amount out of his own pocket.

If we disregard the gains from the original solution, Ron's trip to the brothel was a huge loss.

Soldier casualties, potion consumption, gold coin expenditure, equipment wear and tear.

The military merits he earned were far from enough to cover his losses, not to mention that Ron had also refined the orc's heart core.

He clapped his hands in satisfaction and walked back.

A powerful and majestic dragon's roar resounded from the horizon:

"hold head high--! "

Ron was standing outside the camp when he heard the sound coming from the north, getting closer and closer.

Everyone looked up.

A golden dot flew through the air and slowly filled people's pupils.

A brass dragon swooped down from the clouds, its golden scales blinding in the sunlight. It descended slowly, the gusts of wind whipped up by its wings overturning several tents, and the crowd screamed and scattered.

The dragon's claws gripped something—a massive orc corpse—which it threw from mid-air, crashing onto the open ground outside the city and splattering blood.

He is an orc warrior!

On the dragon's back, the Marquis of Windsor flipped and leaped down, his armor splattered with blood, but his eyes were frighteningly sharp.

The brass dragon also landed on the city wall, its claws digging into the bricks and stones, its huge tail waving in mid-air, and its head spewing out two thick breaths.

This scene was extremely impactful.

The soldiers who couldn't get out of the way in time were so frightened that they collapsed to the ground.

"The Marquess of Windsor is back!" someone shouted.

Ron stood there, watching the giant dragon perched on the city wall, its golden eyes sweeping across the crowd as if sizing up prey.

He gripped the sword hilt tightly, his body tensing instinctively—a reaction to a predator of a higher level of existence.

The Marquess of Windsor didn't notice Ron.

He strode into the castle, followed by several nobles who arrived late.

Ron took a deep breath, suppressing the oppressive feeling.

A level three dragon! It's definitely different.

In the afternoon, the routed soldiers began to retreat one after another.

It wasn't a single wave, but rather scattered, like beads falling from a broken string, surging in from the north.

Some were using crutches, some were being carried, and some had nothing with them, only their lives remaining. Their faces all wore the same expression: relief at surviving a disaster, and bewilderment at not knowing where they were going.

When the Marquis of Windsor arrived at the front lines, the orcs were chasing after the Marquis of Mammon's troops.

Fortunately, the Marquis's department only suffered a defeat, but it did not suffer a major rout and still had the ability to resist, although it could not withstand the opponent's War King level experts.

The Marquis of Windsor descended onto the battlefield on a dragon, suppressing the enemy's War King.

Only the surviving troops can escape the orcs' clutches.

At dusk, the bugle sounded.

All lords gathered in the castle council chamber.

Ron led Laun inside and found that quite a few people were already standing in the hall. There were far fewer familiar faces, and everyone looked disheveled, some even with bandages wrapped around their bodies.

No one spoke; the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like it was about to burst into tears.

The Marquess of Windsor sat in the main seat, dressed in a ferocious suit of armor.

Marquis Mammon stood nearby, his face pale and his complexion poor. He too had suffered a serious injury and, even after taking a healing potion, was not fully recovered and would be unable to exert himself for the time being.

"Everyone is here."

The Marquess of Windsor's voice was not loud, but everyone could hear it.

"Those present now are all the lords who have reached Sandstone Castle. There may be some who are still trapped on the front lines, but not many. Those who are still alive will be able to return to Sandstone Castle in the next two days."

"As for those that ran even further ahead?" The Marquis of Windsor paused.

"Post notices around Sandstone Keep, especially at the rear. Tell them to gather at Sandstone Keep within three days. If they are not here by then, I'll assume they've died at the hands of the orcs."

He said fiercely, "After the war, you'd better play dead forever and never be discovered. Otherwise, hmph!!"

The lords below agreed, indicating that no one was going to escape.

The Marquis of Windsor paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"The Duchy's reinforcements will arrive in three days. During these three days, your task is not to hold out to the death, but to stall."

He waved his hand, and the lieutenant stepped forward to unfold the map.

"Use the dozen or so territories between Sandstone Keep and Ironrock Keep as a buffer. Organize defenses to delay the orcish attack. Hold out for as long as possible, and settle accounts with them when the main force arrives."

Ron's heart skipped a beat.

The space between the two castles is not far, and the orcs' attack range is wide.

If the opponent finds Sandstone Fortress difficult to attack, they will naturally turn to these territories.

While Sandstone Keep may not have the high walls and wide ramparts of Ironrock Keep, it is guarded by brass dragons and the Marquis of Windsor. Any orc who isn't stubborn knows that Sandstone Keep won't be easy to take.

After all, the combination of a third-tier titled knight and a dragon gives them two third-tier combat power, and now the orcs are at a disadvantage.

However, on the Duchy's side, due to Marquis Mammon's continuous defeats, those below the third rank are at a disadvantage in terms of both knightly combat strength and soldier strength.

The adjutant then began assigning operational roles.

Ron and several lords were assigned to a territory called Apple Territory, not far from Sandstone Fortress, where the difficulty of combat was estimated to be not high.

The adjutant emphasized, "Delay as much as possible; don't engage the orcs in a deadly battle. Wait until the main force arrives."

Ron nodded. It's just guerrilla warfare, right? I get it!

After the meeting, Ron had just stepped out of the council chamber when he saw a familiar figure.

Boris!

That old scoundrel is still alive.

I wonder which innocent and kind lord fell victim to his cruelty. How despicable!

Boris leaned against a pillar, his usual smile on his face, but the weariness in his eyes was unmistakable. Locke, also injured, was beside him, but seemed to be in good spirits.

"Baron Ron, we meet again." Boris nodded slightly.

Ron gave a slight bow: "Baron Boris, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Although both of them secretly wished they could kill each other, they still maintained a facade of politeness.

Boris chuckled. "Good luck, good luck! Any slower and we'd be buried along with Ironrock Fortress."

The two walked side by side for a while. Boris lowered his voice:

"I've received some information that many lords have been captured this time, but there are also a few unlucky ones who have died on the spot."

"I know one like that; his territory is nearby. Baron Ron, would you be interested in taking a piece of his land?"

"Is he probably killed by your trickery? He's got his eye on someone else's elf bug again," Ron thought to himself.

Ron's approach to dealing with Boris was to ignore him and keep his distance.

Once he's fully developed, we'll crush him with sheer strength and won't bother with his underhanded tactics.

Boris can go ahead and steal someone else's elf bug if he wants; Ron can just snatch it back later—it's an easy thing to do!

Despite the temptations Boris offered, Ron remained focused and unmoved.

So Ron pretended not to understand Boris's suggestion:

"Oh? No way, their lord is dead, and they're left with only a widow and her children. It's not easy for them. Let it go."

Boris didn't show any expression, but smiled regretfully:

"I just think of you first when there's good news because we're neighbors."

"It's fine if I don't go, Brother Ron, but you have to keep this news for me."

"Don't worry, big brother!"

"I'm the most loyal Silverwing person I can be, I absolutely won't let a third person know about this," Ron said with a righteous expression.