“As a return gift for this ‘intelligence’,” Shen Mu’s voice carried a hint of cold mockery, “After New Rivadin’s ballistae and sharp arrows tear through the Ghost Light Dynasty’s formations, your ‘purification’ power… will have a moment to ‘receive’ the ‘residue’ that does not belong to the Blue Star World, swept here by the chaos of the spirit realm.”
He was referring to the remnants of otherworldly creatures that self-dissolved in the Underground tunnels.
“As for the Black Arrow Tower Dynasty… it is the next target of our Deherim Legion. If you wish to interfere, you do so at your own risk.” Shen Mu’s tone carried blatant threat and warning, “As for your ‘anchor point’… don’t even think about it. The will of hell is only fit to echo in hell.”
The demon envoy beneath the city seemed to fall into some kind of confused calculation.
On that human face, the skin and flesh twitched subtly, and the eyes lost their previous “calmness,” beginning to flicker with chaotic light, as if an inner hatred and command program were in violent conflict.
After a long while, it seemed to stabilize again, nodding stiffly: “Information… transfer location… understood. ‘Receiving residue’… conforms to expected logic.”
It avoided the core condition of “anchor point” which was completely rejected, only grasping the “sweetener” Shen Mu offered, showing its greed and tendency to avoid important issues under its chaotic logic: “Cooperation… initial framework… achieved.”
Its body began to tremble slightly, and the human skin seemed to become more unstable, as if the thing inside was struggling to break free: “Then… look forward… to your… wrath of thunder… descending upon… those… undead…”
Its voice became intermittent, mixed with inhuman hissing.
After speaking, it no longer lingered, turning stiffly with an abnormal, joint-bending gait completely unlike human walking, and slowly retreated into the deepening twilight, quickly merging into the Desert’s shadows and disappearing, as if it had never appeared.
A cold wind carrying the scent of sulfur blew across the city wall.
Betusier looked at the direction where the envoy disappeared and spat fiercely: “Damn it! Seeing that ghostly thing speaking in human skin, I almost threw up my overnight meal!”
Lezalit’s expression was extremely grave: “My Lord, they will never be content with just providing information. The authenticity of these coordinates and data is hard to discern, and they very likely contain fatal misleading information.”
Aleron also nodded: “They agreed too ‘readily’. Especially since you, my Lord, rejected their most core request, they must have other intentions.”
Shen Mu gazed at the darkness where the envoy disappeared, his deep eyes like a cold pond, without a ripple.
“I know,” his voice was low and powerful.
“Living next to hell is, in itself, an endless war. Every piece of information they give us, we must scrutinize with ten times the vigilance. The ‘olive branch’ they extend is, in essence, a poisoned dagger.”
Shen Mu turned his head slightly, looking at his three capable generals, a cold arc seemingly curling at the corner of his mouth: “But… the devil is willing to send intelligence about its mortal enemy, regardless of its truth or falsehood, regardless of how many traps… this in itself, is the most truthful piece of intelligence.”
His words were resonant: “It at least proves that the ‘Crimson Claw’ fears the Undead Dynasty far more than its current probing of New Rivadin. The tighter the Undead Dynasty’s information blockade on its core nodes, the more it proves their value. The devil’s eagerness to use our blades to slay the undead also confirms our previous judgment—there is some fundamental, irreconcilable opposition between them. This… for us, is the ‘truth’ that can be utilized.”
The cold light of wisdom flickered in Shen Mu’s eyes: “Go and get the intelligence. Then, dissect it layer by layer like poison. There is falsehood within truth, and within falsehood… there must also be truth hidden. Compare it with the information we ourselves have investigated, cross-referencing the two.”
He looked at Lezalit and Aleron: “Strengthen night patrols, especially near the Underground entrance! The appearance of the demon envoy means the undead’s pawns will absolutely not be unaware. They have been silent for several days; they must be plotting something.”
Saying that, he spoke again: “Betusier!”
“Here!” Betusier immediately straightened his back.
“Your men, advance and maintain surveillance on the area where the envoy disappeared. Keep your distance, only observing for energy fluctuations or signs of undead approaching.”
Shen Mu’s command was clear and crisp: “Tonight is the key. The appearance of the devil is not the end, but the horn before a greater storm. We are in the eye of this storm, to see… who can use whose hand to carve a path in this tide of the spirit realm.”
His gaze swept across the increasingly dark Desert, like the gaping maw of hell: “Whoever wants to cross New Rivadin’s threshold… will have to leave behind enough of their bone fragments!”
Night completely enveloped New Rivadin, the torchlight on the city walls flickered in the strong wind, like lighthouses guarding the last vestiges of order and hope.
The soldiers gripped their weapons, their expressions solemn.
Shen Mu turned and strode towards the main castle building.
New intelligence, new challenges, and a new round of offensive and defensive maneuvering had already begun.
His brief confrontation with hell was merely a prelude to this long war.
The real contest was yet to come.
…
Twilight completely swallowed the wasteland, and the wind, carrying sand, struck New Rivadin’s stone walls, producing a continuous rustling sound.
The torchlight from the city wall battlements struggled to tear open a small, flickering area of light in the thick darkness, illuminating the silent, undead territory below, and the air just tainted by the scent of hell.
Faint smells of sulfur and charring still lingered, reminding them of that chilling negotiation.
Bestour’s jaw muscles were taut, his teeth clenched, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of his quiver tightly.
The anger in his eyes burned fiercely, almost scorching through the darkness in the direction where the envoy disappeared, a suppressed growl rumbling in his throat: “Human-skinned beasts… next time, my arrowheads will be fed into their eye sockets.”
Lezalit’s voice was deep and steady, like steel soaked in ice water: “The other party retreated too readily; it seems there must be poison in the intelligence they gave us. What they want is certainly not the scraps in the tunnel, My Lord; this intelligence is probably a trap wrapped in honey.”
Shen Mu did not respond.
He stood at the edge of the battlement, his figure standing like a mountain at the boundary of firelight and darkness, his cloak motionless in the sand-laden wind.
The direction the demon envoy retreated into was so deep it seemed to lead directly to hell.
Orders were issued layer by layer in a military manner.
“East gate alert raised to highest level.” Shen Mu spoke, his voice not loud but clearly piercing through the wind, “Lezalit, set up double sentry posts, and add one reconnaissance team each to the high points of the eastern and western sand dunes. Equip them with incendiary arrows, focusing on monitoring abnormal situations, and for the Underground exit, add two Holy Tree Knights to each patrol round. Mithril reaction is a key barrier against stealth units.”
“Yes!” Lezalit responded in a deep voice, immediately turning to make tactical gestures to the officer on duty below the city.
The friction of chainmail rings quickly receded, accompanied by low-pitched commands.
“Aleron.”
“My Lord!” Aleron stood erect, hands on his chest.
“Vigia Archers, rotate by squad, increase armor-piercing arrow quota by fifty percent, all light ballistae to pre-fire status, set elevation and deflection, covering the entire sector from the East Gate to the Underground entrance.”
Shen Mu’s gaze swept across the area below the city swallowed by night: “Tonight, be vigilant for any moving targets. Anyone approaching within one hundred and fifty paces of the Warning Line, no warning, shoot to kill immediately.”
“Understood!” A sharp glint flashed in Aleron’s eyes as he quickly walked towards the arrow tower position, hand gestures silent, the Vigia Sharpshooters swiftly adjusted their firing positions, and the ballista winches emitted faint tightening sounds.
Shen Mu finally turned to Bestour, whose muscles were still taut, his voice leaving no room for doubt: “Have your Steppe Bandits pull back their patrol circle, and hold the edge of the city wall’s visible range. The goal is not engagement, but to bring back intelligence alive. Especially in the direction the envoy left, pay attention to ground vibrations. Any suspected groups of bone-armored cavalry gathering, retreat immediately.”
Bestour took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging ferocity in his eyes, his chest rising and falling twice under his iron armor, and he said hoarsely: “Understood!”
He turned abruptly and issued a short, sharp eagle whistle towards the Kujit cavalry team below the city, carrying a decisive retreat order.
The cold air solidified in the castle’s main hall.
A rough parchment map was spread on a heavy oak table, beside it the “intelligence” coordinate location specified by the envoy before its disappearance.
“We must be careful.”
Shen Mu shifted his gaze, looking out at the heavy night sky through the window, “The fact that the devil came to negotiate precisely proves their apprehension of the undead, far exceeding their direct probing of us. The core node information of the undead’s internal defenses must involve certain hidden powers capable of threatening the devil.” He paced to the wall, his fingertips tracing the cold stone, feeling its rough texture: “Whether the intelligence itself is true or false is secondary. Their motive for needing this information to be received, analyzed, and even utilized by us… that is the core.”
“Using us to strike the undead?” Aleron frowned.
“Mutual attrition is the norm.” Shen Mu turned, the flickering firelight reflected in his eyes: “They hope New Rivadin becomes the millstone that grinds the undead, and so do we. It’s about who can sharpen their blade faster, and who can avoid the other’s dark hand.”
He stood firm, his voice resolute: “From now on, New Rivadin enters a full alert period. Patrol cycles are shortened. Any sentry post detecting signs of abnormal energy release—whether black light, green fire, or sulfur scorch marks—will immediately raise the highest alert. The blades of hell and the undead are about to fall. What we need to do is to make their first strike land on each other’s blades.”
The night was as deep as ink.
At the top of the towering northern watchtower, two Vekia Archers, draped in thick camouflage cloaks, huddled in the observation post.
There was no conversation, only the sharp whistling sound of wind passing through the tower’s crevices.
Behind the city wall battlements.
Vigia Sharpshooters leaned against the cold stone wall, a felt blanket half-covering their knees, special heavy arrows piled beside them.
They were not asleep, but merely closed their eyes to regulate their breathing, like sharp blades sheathed.
Every fifteen minutes, a patrol passed through, their armor making only the faintest scraping sounds, like frost condensing on iron.
Deep within the main castle building.
Shen Mu stood alone before the lookout window.
The defensive lights below the city outlined the iron-gray silhouettes of the chevaux de frise and trap arrays, beyond which was pure darkness.
He was contemplating.
Would the devil’s offering be poisoned bait or a key?
Where did the undead’s guillotine lie hidden beneath the sand?
These questions weighed heavily at the bottom of his thoughts.
A strategist does not rush to reveal his hand.
Night is a patient hunting ground.
He was waiting to see if the ripples stirred by the Crimson Claw could force the undead lurking in the darkness to expose fatal flaws.
The city wall bonfires flickered in the wind.
Shen Mu’s figure merged into the deeper shadows, like a silent, ancient bronze shield hammered into the eye of the storm.
As he stood there, the towers, chevaux de frise, outposts, and soldiers—the entire cold defensive system—gained an invisible supporting backbone.
New Rivadin’s sharpness and resilience were silently honed in the dead of night.
Bestour’s rough eagle whistle circled in the night wind for a moment, like the call of a hawk returning to its nest.
Soon, five figures, as swift as sand foxes, glided out from the shadows of the city wall, nimbly mounting their horses.
They were Bestour’s most skilled Steppe Bandits in covert reconnaissance and tracking, accustomed to sniffing out danger in silence and vanishing into thin air before a storm arrived.
“Target east-southeast, the demon envoy that disappeared behind the dune ridge.”
Bestour’s low, hoarse voice sounded from the battlement, accurately reaching the five men’s ears through a hundred meters of wind and sand.
His finger, like a blade, pointed in the direction where the envoy finally merged into the darkness: “Do not approach! Eagle Eye, see clearly where it buried something. After confirming, wait until it’s completely gone before retrieving it. If it buried more than one spot… mark all points, but only take the parchment scroll from the agreed-upon coordinates. When digging, be careful, don’t have any accidents.”
His words carried the Kujit people’s unique battlefield survival wisdom and instinctive vigilance against hellish creations: “Once you have it, bring it back immediately, directly to Lord Shen Mu.”
“Understood, Chieftain!” The leader of the Bandit squad shouted in a low voice, pressing his hand to his chest. His face was covered by a dirty wind-proof cloth, revealing only a pair of sharp, hawk-like black eyes.
Without further words, the five men moved as one, their small Steppe warhorses taking almost silent, short steps, quickly merging into the deepening night by utilizing the undulating terrain of the sand dunes.
They carried no torches; Kujit people could see in starlight as if it were daytime.
Time flowed slowly in the oppressive wait.
On the city wall, bonfires flickered, Shen Mu still stood like a statue, his gaze piercing the darkness, sensing the unknown ripples in the distance.
Lezalit and Aleron had each gone to execute the orders to reinforce the city’s defenses, the subtle sounds of soldiers moving clearly audible in the tense atmosphere.
Bestour, meanwhile, paced back and forth beside Shen Mu, like a fierce beast chained, his heavy breaths exhaling agitated snorts.
About half an hour later, a short and peculiar hissing sound, similar to a Desert lizard rubbing against a hard object, came very faintly from outside the city.
Bestour suddenly froze, listening intently, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes, and he looked at Shen Mu: “My Lord, the signal has arrived. They have found the location, the item has been retrieved, and they are returning.” (End of this chapter)
