There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

By this time, a dozen or so tents of varying sizes had gathered outside the Cedar Clan's tents, all there to join our ranks in search of food. Their feelings towards us were arguably even purer than those of a pay thief clocking in and out every day—they were just trying to survive!

I lay on the grass, feeling a sensation I had never experienced before. But tonight, under the cover of night in the mountains, gazing intently at the vast night sky, I seemed to see the eyes of this world and feel an unprecedented emptiness and clarity in my soul.

"Grey, what are you thinking about? Want to chat about some cheap, artsy stuff?"

After the dyeing process stopped, the boy's hair slowly returned to its original golden color. His face was bruised and swollen, and he stammered, "I want to destroy this world..."

I said dismissively, "Destroy the world? Do you know how many floors you have to carry a bag of rice up? You want to destroy the world! Let me tell you, I'm hitting you for your own good, so you won't lose your temper and ruin our plans."

Gray said with dissatisfaction, "But boss, I've been so angry with them these past two days. They've been so sarcastic and sarcastic. It's already a lot of hard work that I've managed to put up with it until today."

The night on the grassland lacked the neon lights of my memories; instead, there was only a strange, incomplete yellow moon and the ethereal silhouette of a towering mountain, making the whole world seem hazy and distorted.

I said earnestly, "Grey, you need to understand that character design is very important. To fit that character, everything you do must be logical, consistent in your language, actions, and micro-expressions. The benefit of doing this is that everyone will immediately associate you with that character, deepening their impression. No matter what you do, it will be primarily influenced by that character..."

The pale, hazy moonlight in the night sky, devoid of stars, created a haunting, misty atmosphere. The surrounding mountains, layered and gray, were obscured by the mist, their dark weight pressing heavily upon the earth beneath the night sky. The faintly visible peaks of Corillo Mountain drifted in the deep night, disappearing in the blink of an eye, as if adrift in a place that didn't belong to them.

I stood up and looked up at the towering mountain that seemed like a castle in the air. "You must remember what I'm about to tell you."

Gray immediately tensed up. "Boss, you're not going up the mountain right now? Isn't that too rushed? We can't achieve the effect of combining light and shadow that you mentioned yet..."

I saw right through his thoughts: "That's enough, Gerfred. When did you become so hesitant? I'm telling you to hold back for your own good..."

Ultimately, we're like Zhang Mazi arriving in Goose City—completely clueless and on guard against the local bullies' schemes. For them, Gray stepping into the trap is one thing, but struggling and resisting is absolutely unacceptable.

If Gray has no value to be exploited, then what awaits Mori and his gang is the story of Rokuko—you say you came for fairness, then why did you eat two bowls of my noodles but only pay for one?

This kind of thing will only keep happening until Gray is completely isolated and abandoned by everyone.

Gray clenched his fists, saying to me with resentment, "Boss, the conspiracy is so clear now, and so many people are going to be sacrificed. I can't just stand by and do nothing... And what about that amusement park incident? If I were stronger, I could have saved everyone..."

Hmm? Is this kid possessed by a demon?

Indeed, at his age, with the ability to change the status quo, it's easy for him to think that "with great power comes great responsibility," and he wants to contribute to everything he sees—which is also the origin of his superhero dream.

"don’t worry."

I patted him on the shoulder, realizing for the first time that this seemingly mature young man was still a teenager with an immature mind. "I can confirm that the war between the clown and the monster continues in places we can't see. What we saw back then was just the most insane one, and that summoning ritual attracted more than one madman, like that fat clown in the closet, who smelled like maggots from a sewer..."

Gray looked up: "Really?"

I helplessly covered my face: "Why would I make up such a disgusting battle? I just wanted you to understand that the heroes you thought were dedicated to justice might just be a bunch of crazy people who like to join in the fun and cause trouble."

At this point, I ruffled his hair and said seriously, "Tomorrow's plan will be very aggressive, and I hope you are mentally prepared. The reason why a persona is established is to be broken or trampled on."

Then, pointing to the distant mountain peaks, he said, "My next target is over there. Gray, this place is yours from now on."

Gray watched the camp gradually fall silent, slowly regaining his composure. With his bruised and swollen face, he pondered for a moment before earnestly asking, "One last question, boss. Would you die for justice?"

I shook my head. "No, I will only live for justice."

…………

The next morning, a group of more than four hundred people gathered at the entrance to Mount Corillo, crowding the entire foothills.

At the head of the procession were twelve people holding high Christmas tree banners, lined up ready to lead the charge. Behind them were newly joined vassal tribes, who had also sent warriors still capable of fighting, hoping to make a name for themselves in battle.

These four hundred-plus people were characterized by their ragged clothes, sallow complexions, and emaciated appearances. They joined the battle carrying only a wooden stick or an old bow, showing no signs of combat capability whatsoever.

In the era of cold weapons, conquering natural defenses was a high-risk, low-reward endeavor. Sieges often devolved into protracted sieges due to the backwardness of engineering equipment, ending with one side running out of food.

With a large army on the front lines, the daily consumption of provisions is astronomical, and the manpower required will also affect the planting and harvesting of the following year. If they return empty-handed, it would be nothing short of a catastrophe for a nomadic tribe.

Many of these people are genuinely determined to reclaim Mount Corillo and return to their peaceful lives.

But the people who truly have the ability to end the disaster are precisely the ones who started it. They still retain a force of nearly a thousand men, yet they shamelessly place themselves last under the pretext of being the last line of defense.

Chief Berthold said affectionately, "Brave Chief White Falcon, savior of the recapture of the sacred mountain! We eagerly await witnessing the unparalleled courage and superb war skills of the Fir Clan in this battle!"

Subsequently, the other tribal chiefs also sent their "remaining" equipment and supplies, using similar words to boost morale, and declaring that as long as the Cedar Clan could break through the high walls of the mountain pass, they would swarm in and defend the fruits of victory to the death!

The meaning behind this statement is quite thought-provoking.

If they can break through the enemy lines, they will advance; but if they cannot, will they then put on a show of "remaining unmoved when friendly forces are in trouble"?

Or if our battle goes poorly and we need to retreat and regroup, will they block our way down the mountain and force us to fight to the death?

"Don't worry, we're determined to win this battle!"

After saying something cryptic, Gray stood at the front of the column with a cold face. Without even turning around, he waved and led the four hundred-strong Cedar Clan coalition army up the mountain. The entire column was vast but completely disorganized.

I lowered my mask and whispered to Gray, "Head up the mountain and wait for my instructions."

Greyweather nodded almost imperceptibly and slowly began his ascent.

Although Mount Corillo is majestic and tall, its slopes are extremely steep, and its outer cliffs are sparsely covered with vegetation, giving it a desolate and bleak atmosphere. From my observation, the two massive peaks that make up the mountain each have independent components. They may have risen from the earth over a long period of tectonic plate collision, or more likely, from a violent volcanic eruption, to form this majestic mountain on the plain.

The mountain path is a marvel of nature, existing at the junction of the two mountains. This natural mountain path is rich in vegetation and has a gentle slope. After a few sharp turns, you can reach the summit and face the strategic pass that you are about to reach.

As the terrain undulated, the surrounding temperature gradually decreased. The cold and loss of energy gradually exhausted the team, causing them to pant more heavily, further increasing the difficulty of the uphill climb.

The nearly one thousand-strong team of the Thirteen Sacred Covenant tribes, trailing us by a bend, were slowly advancing and gradually approaching the place where they had suffered repeated defeats.

After turning a corner, the slightly narrow mountain path suddenly opens up, revealing a gourd-shaped valley halfway up the mountain, with a sturdy wall built of rock.

Gray's eyes lit up, and as if afraid the other party hadn't noticed, he jumped out and shouted, "Demacia!"

With the agreed-upon order to attack, the 400-strong force neither rested nor regrouped, but surged forward with Gray's charge, approaching the pass.

The troops of the Brown Pool tribe guarding the pass seemed to panic when the battle broke out, only firing a few scattered arrows. Before they knew it, we had forced them close to the foot of the city wall.

At first, the attack seemed surprisingly simple.

But the opponent's real killing moves only appeared one after another in the next moment.

First, logs were thrown down from the city wall, knocking down a group of warriors who were swarming up. Then, huge stones were also thrown down, and thanks to the unique angle of the terrain, they rolled faster and faster with inertia, rushing straight into the crowd, creating bursts of blood and screams.

I mingled among the soldiers and came to understand the feeling of being powerless on the battlefield with cold weapons. Advancing alone meant death, and retreating on your own also meant death. Only by forming a group and advancing and retreating together could we seize a sliver of hope.

Gray was incredibly brave in the crowd, charging ahead like a god of war with his eyes shining. He leaped forward and punched a boulder falling from the city wall, then turned and kicked a giant log rolling towards him. Amidst the rubble and wood dust, he roared to the sky, firmly protecting the tribal refugees behind him.

Such a performance was so striking that the trembling tribal refugees instinctively clung to the strong, unanimously following behind the warriors of the Cedar Clan in their charge.

But in the midst of the chaos, from a hidden angle unnoticed by anyone, a sharp blade silently emerged and stabbed into Gray's back.

With a muffled groan, blood instantly rolled onto the ground, and the cry of pain caused a commotion. Then, a jostling and pushing suddenly broke out in the chaotic battlefield.

After the crowd dispersed, only a knife remained stuck in the bleeding wound.

In the crowd, the giant-like Senbo reached out and shielded Gray from behind, taking the fatal backstab. He used his flesh and blood to block the attack from behind, then roared like thunder at the chaotic crowd with bloodshot eyes.

"Who is it! Show yourself!"

The sound instantly spread throughout the entire battlefield. The enormous roar startled the attack of the Brown Pool tribe on the pass, causing them to unconsciously slow down for a moment!

This premeditated assassination was clearly meticulously planned. The entire process—from cover-up and execution to creating chaos and destroying evidence—was flawless. Even if Moribo was furious, he was powerless against four hundred comrades of unknown origin.

But if the traitor isn't found, this battle can't continue; no one will feel safe with someone of unknown allegiance around them.

...That's theoretically true, but I was the one who actually stabbed him, hehe ∠(?」∠)＿.

My stab wasn't very well executed, but luckily Moribo is tough and unaffected. I casually tossed a handful of wild herbs into Moribo's arms and gestured to Gray—the plan begins!

"Retreat! There's a traitor!"

Gray suddenly roared to the sky, and the warriors, including Senbo, immediately turned around and charged into the crowd behind them. Their righteous and awe-inspiring demeanor made everyone think that they had misheard and misread, and that the chieftain had simply changed the direction of the attack!

The team, which had just been attacked by its own people, had not yet completely collapsed, but my words instantly shattered the harmony of the scene.

"Traitor, prepare to die!"

My hidden blade mercilessly pierced the throat of a tribal warrior. In his final moments, as his life faded, his eyes were filled with confusion—Why did you kill me? How did you know I was the traitor?

Those nearby were horrified and immediately shouted, "What are you doing! You bastard!"

But I glanced at him, then casually plunged my sword into his lung, leaving him limp and struggling to breathe. In another minute, blood would flow back into his lungs, and death would be his only fate.

"You're the mole too. Don't ask me how I know—you can't see the character attribute panel anyway."

That's right. While they thought they were hiding well, I had already recognized these spies from the Scorpion Yakan tribe through the character attribute panel of the colonizer system.

I don't know if they intended to assassinate me, but the script I gave them was assassination, and I won't accept any arguments against it.

Then Gray and his men created chaos in front of me, while I dealt with the traitors behind the scenes—a perfect teamwork.

The tide of defeat grew increasingly clear, with traitors dying in agony. I deliberately disguised myself as a refugee, making it impossible for the tribal refugees to tell whether the dead were traitors or the traitors committing murder.

All they knew was that they had to keep running and following behind the White Falcon Chief of the Fir Tree Clan in order to survive.

As the last traitor in my sight was killed and the fleeing troops gradually approached the rearguard, I smiled slightly at the panic I had created.

I killed all the traitors, and I also used Mori's self-inflicted injury ruse. I covered my chest, pretending to be a corpse, and fell down, feeling very moved, watching Gray's figure getting further and further away.

With the east wind already in place, Gray can now proceed with the most devastating part of my plan—the Great Purge!

Chapter 507 Military Infiltration Operations Manual (Fishman Language Annotated Version)

With the decisive retreat of the attacking force, the once bustling battlefield is now reduced to a pile of corpses in various states of death, and the melody of "The Flower of Hope" seems to drift in the wind.

Okay, I may sound too flippant when it comes to matters of life and death, but that's just how it is.

If someone in later generations were to study this battle—let's assume there's someone so bored they'd grow testicles out of nowhere—they would surely discover that this massive offensive, from its planning and mobilization to its final execution, was merely a mistake by the Thirteen Alliance tribes, exploited by a small group of people with ulterior motives, and was utterly meaningless in terms of both strategy and outcome.

In my eyes, it's not just a little good, it's a great good!

What was good about this battle? It was good precisely because it was a defeat!

I can't say any more, or it might get edited out.

Anyway, I lay on the cold ground, my mind filled with thoughts of how to infiltrate the Brown Pool tribe.

Based on my years of experience studying Assassin's Creed, a direct confrontation would be quite difficult.

There is a towering wall built according to the terrain, with a drop of nearly three stories, which can be described as a natural barrier. I am not yet able to complete the operation of jumping nine meters high from the spot, doing three and a half rotations in the air, and then landing steadily on the other side.

If possible, it would definitely be named "Marcus Twist" and recorded in history!

My original plan was to play dead here, wait for the Brownpool tribe to leave the city to clean up the battlefield, then use my extraordinary infiltration skills to slip past the guards, secretly investigate the Brownpool tribe's situation, and give Jay a surprise!

Such a scheme is ingenious and can be called a modern-day Trojan Horse!

Unfortunately, I waited on the cold ground for a full three hours, and the people on the city wall showed no intention of cleaning up the battlefield. They simply patrolled the city wall in shifts every hour, while others busily replenished the worn-out logs and rocks on the city wall.

(;'??Д??`) Miscalculated!

I soon found out why these people weren't coming down.