Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Level 8 mage.

They have some strength, but they are still quite far from reaching the Exemplary level.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief.

Level 8, not bad.

If it were a level 10 or higher Exemplary Mage, he would turn around and leave without saying a word—Exemplary Mages and Exemplary Warriors are completely different concepts.

No matter how strong a warrior is, it's all for naught if he can't hit anyone; when a mage reaches the Exemplary rank, it's another major transformation.

But level 8...

Lance silently calculated in his mind.

Edwin Frostwhisper, an 8th-level mage, can typically prepare a maximum of five third- or fourth-level spells, three second-level spells, and four first-level spells per day, according to normal mage standards.

Even if Lance isn't in good form, it's still uncertain who will win if they really fight.

"But we can't fight."

Lance looked at his arc; it was almost gone.

And the problem is, Edwin isn't the only one on the other side.

Those two Exemplary Warriors, Cassius and Vera, are no pushovers.

A level 12 warrior, plus a level 11 Vera, and nearly 30,000 troops surrounding them...

"We can't fight."

"We can't fight, at least not now."

Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the remaining dozen or so tents were all occupied by mages.

It seems the supplies can't be burned, but dealing with three thousand cavalrymen makes this trip worthwhile.

He was about to leave, but then he discovered...

What about the supplies?

With so many people, why don't they have much food and supplies?

Lance flew around a few more times, looking at all the places.

Still no food supplies found.

"Where are the provisions?"

Lance circled around to the perimeter of the camp and found several cooks preparing a meal.

They had a large pot set up, and something was cooking in it. Several bags of grain were piled up next to it, which looked like oats and dried meat.

Lance carefully counted the food bags at each of the cooks' gathering points.

not much.

It was enough to feed 25,000 people for two or three days at most, and ordinary soldiers carried very little food.

"Two or three days?"

Lance's eyes lit up.

"They didn't bring enough provisions!"

"Where are their supplies?"

Lance hovered in the air, his mind racing.

With an army of 25,000, the amount of grain they consumed each day was astronomical. Assuming each person ate two jin of grain per day, 25,000 people would consume 50,000 jin, or 25 tons, per day.

That's 75 tons in three days.

Such a large amount of grain and fodder could not be carried by hand; a special supply team was needed to transport it.

So where is the supply train?

Lance flew around again, surveying the area within twenty miles of the camp.

No.

There was no trace of any supply train.

"Perhaps it's later?"

Lance looked south—towards the Sassanid kingdom.

According to normal marching patterns, the main force marches ahead, and the supply train follows behind, with a difference of several days in distance being normal.

The main force has arrived here, and the supply train should still be behind, about a day to three days away.

Lance's lips curled up slightly.

Isn't this an opportunity?

He withdrew his gaze and took one last look at the commander's tent.

Inside the tent, the level 12 warrior Cassius seemed to sense something, suddenly opened his eyes, and ran out of the tent.

But he found nothing.

"Hmm? Maybe I'm imagining things..."

Lance has already flown far away.

In the night sky, an invisible figure carrying Little Black flew swiftly northward.

"Master, aren't we going to fight?" Little Black poked its head out from Lance's arms and asked curiously.

"I'm not fighting anymore," Lance said. "We can't win now."

"Where do we go?"

"Go find their supply train. Since we can't defeat them head-on, let's cut off their food supplies first."

Little Black blinked: "No food? But Master, where are their provisions?"

"It must be behind us," Lance said. "An army of 25,000 couldn't possibly be without supplies. The supply train must be somewhere behind us, about a day or three days' journey from here."

"Can we find it?"

"Let's give it a try," Lance said. "There's no harm in not finding it. And if we do find it..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Xiao Hei already understood.

If we find it, we'll be rolling in it.

A person and a cat flew through the air, the night wind whistling.

After flying for about an hour, Lance suddenly lowered his altitude.

Below was a flat road that meandered northward along the river. Along the road, a long line was moving slowly.

At least two hundred large wagons were lined up in a long queue. Each wagon was pulled by two horses and was piled high with cargo, covered with thick tarpaulins. The wheels left deep ruts on the dirt road, marks of heavy loads.

At least a thousand soldiers followed around the wagon. Some were on foot, some on horseback, all watching their surroundings warily.

Lance's eyes lit up.

Supply train!

He slowly descended, hovering above the supply train, and observed carefully.

Those large carts were indeed loaded with grain and fodder.

Some wagons were piled with sacks, which were probably filled with oats or wheat. Others carried large barrels, which were likely filled with cured meat or salted fish. Still others were loaded with hay, which was feed for warhorses.

Lance made a rough estimate.

Two hundred large trucks, each with a load capacity of two tons, that's two hundred tons.

Two hundred tons of grain and fodder.

Enough to feed an army of 25,000 for 20 days.

In addition to the three days' worth of provisions carried by the main force, the total is twenty-three days.

"Finally found it."

He hovered in the night sky, looking at the long convoy below, and began to make plans in his mind.

This supply train was escorted by a thousand soldiers.

How many of the thousand soldiers are professionals?

Lance squinted and observed carefully.

He quickly spotted several people in the middle of the convoy.

The men wore better armor and rode better warhorses. They were gathered together, talking as they walked.

Lance focused his attention, and the information came to mind.

[Target: Hans Iron Hammer]

Race: Human

[Class: Warrior]

[Level: 5]

[Target: Gray Iron Mountain]

Race: Human

[Class: Warrior]

[Level: 5]

[Target: Lina Swiftshadow]

Race: Human

Occupation: Wanderer

[Level: 4]

Three elite ranks.

Two level 5 warriors and one level 4 wanderer.

Among the remaining soldiers, there should be quite a few level 1 to 3 professionals, but not too many—after all, the supply train is not a combat unit, and the elite are concentrated on the main force.

Lance was silently calculating in his mind.

Three elite-level soldiers, plus dozens of low-level professionals, plus a thousand ordinary soldiers.

If it's a head-on confrontation, I should be able to win.

But the question is, how much arc does he have left after the attack?

If too much arc is consumed, he could be in danger if an accident occurs.

"We can't confront them head-on."

Lance made a quick judgment.

"We must outsmart them."

He hovered in the air, looking at the long convoy below, his mind racing.

Outsmarting...

How to outsmart them?

set fire?

Grain and fodder are most vulnerable to fire.

But the problem is, if two hundred trucks are burned one by one, how long will it take?

And those soldiers will definitely put out the fire.

Lance thought for a moment and suddenly had an idea.

He lowered his altitude and landed in a grove of trees about 500 meters ahead of the convoy.

Then he began to cast the spell.