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

The defense of the city walls is staffed with rotating shifts.

It was completely dark when Ron came down from the city wall.

Leaning against the city wall, the blood on their armor had long since dried, clinging stiffly to their bodies. Laun and Hart were also exhausted; the three of them just sat there, none of them wanting to move.

In the distance, soldiers were still clearing away the corpses. One by one, they lifted them onto carts, throwing orcs and humans together.

The creaking of the wooden planks was the only sound after the battle ended.

Ron led his men back to the camp to rest, and he himself took off his heavy armor, washed up, and changed into clean casual clothes.

That night, Ron was having dinner when two uninvited guests arrived.

The two men were wearing armor with maple leaf symbols on it; they were Earl Red Maple's men, something Ron had almost forgotten.

Peter has been offline for over two months, and this group has only just arrived.

Speaking of this group of people, they were really unlucky. After receiving Peter's letter for help, they set off and traveled for more than half a month before leaving the duchy. They encountered the orc attack as soon as they entered the frontier.

They were conscripted and sent to guard the city, but before they even reached their destination, several of them had already died.

The lead knight was in his thirties, with a square face and a steady gaze. A longsword without emblems hung at his waist. Behind him followed a young squire.

"Baron Ron?"

The middle-aged man in the lead nodded slightly.

"I am William Red Maple, nephew of Earl Red Maple. This is Henry, my second-in-command."

Ron's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive:

"Nice to meet you."

William sized him up a few times:

"We came to reinforce the frontier on the orders of the Earl, only to find that Lord Peter is already dead. This is truly terrible news."

"You're Peter's neighbor, do you have any specific information about this matter?"

Ron sighed sadly and said:

"I've heard about Baron Peter's affair. It was a gang of bandits. You could say they robbed us, but why did they have to kill us?"

"Brother Peter was such a kind and good person, and yet...sigh...!"

"Those damned bandits, they have no humanity!" she cried.

William's eye twitched slightly, and he continued:

"I've heard that Baron Peter and you had some disagreements?"

"Nonsense! It's all slander!"

"Brother Peter is my dearest friend and brother!"

Ron added, "Brother Peter wanted to go into business with me back then, saying that with him protecting me, we could make a lot of money, and what was his would be mine. Later, I heard that he had been attacked by bandits."

William seemed to be silenced by Ron's words, then suddenly asked:

"Does Baron Ron really think the bandits in these pioneering areas are that formidable?"

Ron looked at him and said slowly, "These days, anything can happen. With war and chaos, who can say for sure?"

William didn't ask any more questions.

"Then I hope that you, Baron, will also be careful in the future. I heard that another group of bandits has recently wandered into the settlement."

William sneered and left with his young deputy.

Laun leaned closer and whispered, "Sir, they..."

Ron interrupted him: "Ignore them, they're a bunch of useless trash, I haven't even considered them a dish yet."

The next afternoon.

It was Ron's turn to defend again, and the battle remained intense.

Sandstone Fortress teetered on the brink of collapse like a small boat in a storm, but it was never breached.

Ron and his men remained hidden behind a section of the city wall, refusing to show themselves.

They defended like a normal lord, occasionally reaping a few cores. They didn't encounter any particularly dire situations.

"It looks like Sandstone Fortress has held," Hart said.

Ron nodded but didn't reply.

As night fell, Ron finished his defense, and a messenger ran over.

"Baron Ron, Boris invites you to the tavern for a chat."

Ron's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive:

"understood."

He changed into clean clothes and led Laun toward the tavern.

The tavern was small, and several officers sat inside, all talking in hushed tones. Boris sat in a corner with two glasses of wine in front of him, his expression more serious than before.

"Baron Ron, please sit." Boris gestured for him to sit.

Ron sat down without touching his drink.

Boris looked at him and got straight to the point: "Today a group of people from Red Maple Territory came to me, subtly asking about Peter's cause of death. Old Cripple and the others were also contacted."

"Don't you think they're being overly sensitive? Why are they even suspecting us neighbors?"

"Who doesn't know that our Settlement No. 95 is a renowned territory of civilized mutual assistance!"

Ron chimed in, "Exactly! There are bad guys among the crowd!"

"But the bandits over there are really a bit arrogant. I think we should organize a bandit suppression operation."

Boris asked in disbelief, "Why are you still pretending?"

Suppressing bandits? Suppressing whom?!

Ron explained, "Our two families will send troops to suppress the bandits, and each family will contribute eighteen million copper coins."

"We contribute the same amount, and the other lords must contribute the same amount! If they don't want to send troops, they'll have to pay double the military expenses."

Boris thought it over and decided it was feasible: "After it's done?"

"Fifty-fifty split!!" Ron said confidently.

After reaching an agreement, the two left separately.

Neither of them was overly nervous about the visitors from Red Maple Territory. Every year, many lords died in the newly developed territories. If half of the new lords survived in the first year, it would be good. After three years, they might not even have a quarter left.

So what if a count's son dies? If you're so capable, come and bite me! You can't bring in a large army, so you can only send high-level combat forces to retaliate.

But smart nobles wouldn't do something that doesn't bring them any profit; if a few of them escaped, their territory would never be peaceful again.

After Ron returned to the camp, he turned to Hart and said:

"Go and find Sir William of Red Maple Territory."

"Tell him there was a clue I forgot to mention yesterday. There's a scoundrel in our frontier area named Boris. Rumor has it he likes to impersonate bandits and rob people. I think it's highly likely he's the one who did Peter's crime."

Hart received orders to leave.

William, after seeing Hart off, looked at the servant beside him with a strange expression.

This was the fourth wave of informants he had sent away.

Boris's messenger said that Ron was the most unruly person in this frontier. The frontier was in such chaos after he arrived; the once pure neighborly relations had been turned into a mess by him. He was definitely responsible for Baron Peter's affair.

The messenger from the old cripple of Blackrock Territory said that Boris and Ron were the worst of the bunch in this frontier. They were the ones who did Peter's things; he saw it with his own eyes.

Green Lake Territory...

The young squire said to William with a wry smile, "There isn't a single good person in this pioneering land."

"Should we use the communication crystal ball to send a message to the Earl?" the attendant asked.

William pondered for a moment, picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and said slowly:

"Forget it, the situation here is too complicated. It's not worth paying the price for a dead man."

We need to figure out how to preserve our strength from this battle. We can't afford any more casualties, or we'll have a hard time explaining to the Earl.

And so, the Peter incident came to an end, without affecting Ron.

Meanwhile, at the orc camp.

A dozen or so tribal chiefs sat in the large tent, the atmosphere heavy and somber.

The chieftain of the Wolf Head tribe sat at the head of the table, his shoulders wrapped in bandages, his face grim.

"Ironrock Fortress has fallen, and we've already looted enough," a ratman leader said.

"Keep fighting. Too many people are dying, and we still might not be able to take this castle."

A minotaur leader retorted, "Withdraw? So many people have died, and this city was captured for nothing?"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" the goat-man leader glared at him.

"Take the sandstone fortress by force? They have dragon knights and magic crystal cannons. Do you think you can break through?"

The minotaur leader fell silent.

After a moment of silence in the tent, a lizardman chieftain spoke up: "We don't necessarily have to attack Sandstone Fortress. We can go around it and raid the territories behind it. Or we can plunder the neighboring territories; those minor lords don't offer much resistance."

The leaders whispered among themselves, some nodding, some shaking their heads.

"If you dare to go around it, the army inside Sandstone Fortress will come out and shove your ass."

The large tent was filled with a noisy and chaotic commotion.

The wolf-headed chieftain remained silent until the tent quieted down, at which point he spoke:

"Attack again tomorrow. If we can't take it, then prepare to retreat."

The War King made his decision, and no one dared to object.