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

After his conversation with Boris, Ron returned to his post and the night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, Ron led his men away from Sandstone Castle and headed towards Apple Territory.

The road was filled with fleeing soldiers and groups of refugees, moving in twos and threes toward the rear.

Besides him, there were three other lords assigned to the Apple Territory.

One was a middle-aged man with a fierce face, who claimed to be the Baron of the Iron Hammer Territory, and he led more than thirty wounded soldiers.

One was a tall, thin man who looked more like a merchant than a lord, and he had about ten men left under his command. The last one was an old knight with gray hair; it was a mystery how he escaped, and he had more than twenty men with him.

The combined number of men under Ron's lords was less than a hundred.

"Sir, what's the situation at Apple Territory?" Hart asked.

Ron shook his head: "We'll talk about it when we get there."

Apple's situation is worse than imagined.

The territory was small, with a small castle built on a gentle slope, but it was unguarded.

The lord of Apple Territory has not returned either; it is unknown whether he was captured by the orcs or died in battle.

We entered the castle.

The castle looked like it had been ransacked. Several serfs were robbing the granary, and when they saw Ron and his men enter, they huddled together in fear.

"Where are the people in the territory?" Laun asked.

No one answered.

"Speak!" he said sternly, drawing his sword again.

An older serf spoke, trembling:

"The Baroness ran away yesterday with her noble sons and daughters, leaving us behind with nothing."

Ron glanced around but didn't say anything.

Several groups of people searched the castle and found several barrels of wine hidden in the cellar, as well as a few pieces of silverware that they hadn't had time to take away, all of which were worthless items.

The spirit insects and valuables were taken away.

Ron was annoyed. He realized he shouldn't underestimate the wisdom of these nobles. They might not be good at fighting, but they were experts at running away.

Ron and the other three lords who were traveling with him discussed the matter and decided to split up.

If they acted together, Ron worried that these lords would secretly sabotage him and cause him trouble, and the others probably felt the same way.

Therefore, it's best to fight each other independently!

For the next two days, Ron led his men to wander around the Apple Territory.

If you encounter a small group of orcs raiding, fight them; if there are many, run away.

After filling the space bracelet twice more, they returned to the Sandstone Territory.

The duchy's support has finally arrived.

The Sandstone Fortress is now ten times more lively than it was a few days ago.

All the surviving lords brought their men to report to the Marquis of Windsor.

The garrison was overcrowded, with flags of all kinds and soldiers speaking various accents huddled together, working hard to build fortifications.

The reinforcements were regular troops transferred from the province closest to the pioneering area.

Regular armies are easy to command and coordinate, but they have fewer high-level combat capabilities.

While noble private armies are difficult to command, they often contain many knights. Each has its advantages and disadvantages.

The reinforcements that came this time numbered 20,000. It consisted of an entire legion of 15,000 men plus two corps, and was led by an earl.

Any more than that would affect the stability of the provincial borders.

Including the defeated soldiers gathered in recent days, there are now nearly 40,000 people in Shashibao.

The reinforcements also brought a lot of magic crystal cannons and alchemical crossbows, more than enough to defend a sandstone fortress.

Ron stood at the city gate, looking at the cannons deployed on the city walls, and felt much more at ease.

The day after reinforcements arrived.

The orcs arrived just as dawn broke.

The sound of bugles came from the north.

Not just one sound, but dozens, rising and falling in waves, like a pack of wolves calling out to each other.

Ron stood behind the battlements, looking north.

On the horizon, a black line slowly advanced, growing wider and closer.

When they finally saw it clearly, it was no longer a line, but a black tide that swept across the wasteland and the hills, surging toward the sandstone fortress.

Instead of testing the waters first, the orcs came out in full force.

The black flag fluttered in the wind.

Various cannon fodder orcs led the charge, a dark, imposing mass. Behind them followed large tribes such as the Wolf-Headed and Bull-Horned tribes, carrying siege ladders and battering rams.

On the city wall, dozens of magic crystal cannons roared simultaneously. Beams of energy pierced the air, blasting through the orcish horde and creating breaches.

A deafening roar erupted from the orc camp.

The chieftain of the Wolf Head Tribe ascended into the air, his body surging with blood energy, like a burning black fire.

On the city wall, the Marquess of Windsor rode up on a brass dragon to meet them.

The dragon spear collided with the bone club, causing the air to tremble.

Three level-three beings were locked in combat in mid-air, their dragon breath and blood energy intertwined. Every casual strike they delivered to the ground caused devastating damage to the creatures below.

Above, a cool battle rages between high-level combatants.

Below, Ron concealed his fighting strength, fearing that he might attract the attention of powerful figures.

I was eighteen that year, and on the battlefield I was just a nobody!

On the city wall.

Ron and his men were holding a position behind a section of the city wall, and the battle they were involved in was simple.

It means to close your eyes and pick up a spear.

Stab! Stab! Stab!

Keep poking! Keep poking until you forget about time!

It's much easier than defending a regular position, but you have to face an endless number of orcs, with a few decent warriors occasionally popping up.

They were all quickly dealt with by Ron's three high-ranking knight squires.

The situation was similar on the other city walls.

However, this situation changed after the shield broke; the number of cannon fodder began to decrease, and orc elites started to rise.

In particular, the orcs had far more level one warriors than the defenders, and they occasionally climbed up.

Without a proper knight to deal with them, the only option is for soldiers to sacrifice their lives to drain the enemy's life force.

Ron stood on the city wall, killing one enemy with a sword. He dared not use a conspicuous weapon like a spiked club; the more ordinary, the better.

High-ranking orc warriors prioritize targeting magic crystal cannons and mage guilds, so unless they're extremely unlucky, they rarely encounter high-ranking orcs.

However, sometimes luck is just that bad; the city wall not far from him was targeted by a level one orc warrior.

As expected, they couldn't hold on.

As long as they can hold onto a foothold, a steady stream of orcs will climb up behind them.

That spot quickly became the point of attack, and the commander on the city wall clearly saw it too. He sent a regular knight over, and thankfully, they drove the orcs off without incident.

Such situations will occur frequently going forward.

Ron encountered it again later, but he didn't show off. He fought with the level one orc with Lauenhart for a while, then pretended that he couldn't hold on.

Awaiting the support of a formal knight.

Of course, without support, Ron would truly lose his position.

If the other city walls in front really can't be defended, then that's what the nobles guarding those walls did.

How many military merits do you get each month? Why risk your life like that!

This is the difference between a nobleman's private army and a duchy's regular army. You can put in the effort, but don't expect a nobleman to risk their life for you.

As expected, reinforcements have arrived. It shouldn't be too difficult for the Duchy to hold Sandstone Castle. The longer it drags on, the more advantageous it will be for the Duchy, as the orcs can't afford to wait.

They came to rob, not to occupy.

Ron rummaged through the nearby lines and found several soldiers dead, who looked like they had fought a hard battle.

This can be considered as giving the arriving knights some respect.

The battle lasted for a full day.

As evening fell, the orcs finally retreated.

The city walls were littered with corpses, both orcish and human. The magic crystal cannons glowed red-hot, the magic shield had shattered three times already, and the mage corps was so exhausted they collapsed to the ground.

But the sandstone fortress still stands.

Ron leaned against the city wall to rest, his body covered in dirt. Laun stood beside him, a knife wound on his arm from which blood was still seeping, his helmet nowhere to be found.

In the distance, the Marquis of Windsor landed on the city wall on his dragon, his body slightly injured, but he still held his head high.

He gained the upper hand in the battle between the three ranks.

In the afternoon, the werewolf chieftain was on the verge of collapse, and it was only with the help of several orc warriors that the tide was turned.