Chapter 80

On the fourth evening after the battle ended, as the soldiers climbed over the last grassy hill and saw the neatly arranged houses and heard the bleating of the sheep in the distance, it was hard to describe their complex feelings at that moment.

In the past, this was just another village they lived in every day, just another scene they saw every day, even the chirping of insects and the singing of birds were monotonous and dull. But after suddenly leaving, experiencing over ten days of life-and-death battles, and returning, the weary scouts realized that this unremarkable little village was actually the warmest and most reliable place in their minds.

This was home.

Seeing familiar people, familiar things, even the familiar smoke rising from familiar houses, the unease and vigilance that had lingered in their hearts would finally be gently put down at this moment.

Not many people came to welcome the returning team. The simple villagers did not bother with any fancy ceremonies. The uncles and aunts just looked at these young men who had been away for many days, carefully counting their numbers. Only after confirming that no one was missing did they smile and continue with their work—no one really worried about what they had done.

The thirty young men from the five villages, including the two wolf cavalry squads and the final slaughter of the Sarota team, had killed nearly four hundred orcs and successfully provoked internal strife between the two tribes. Such achievements could be called a "miracle" from a political perspective, but under Rodi's orders, no one mentioned anything about these battles to the villagers. If anyone asked, they would simply say they were "doing survival training on the grassland."

They did not bring back any war trophies. Even food and tents were almost depleted, and seven or eight horses had died or been injured—so no villager would have any doubts.

That night, the team slaughtered a cow for a victory feast, lit a bonfire in the courtyard, and everyone gathered together, enjoying a hearty meal. The "political commissar" Carter took on the role of the "host," livening up the atmosphere with singing and dancing, creating a relaxed and pleasant mood.

Simple wooden cups were filled with barley wine, and the aroma of tender roasted meat filled the air. Soderlor could see the former Finks village subordinates and Nolan village scouts chatting and laughing without any barriers, raising their cups in a toast with smiles. Then, in response to the soldiers' cheers, he went up to dance a lively dance, drawing a round of applause. Carter, trying to imitate, ended up tripping himself and falling to the ground, causing a burst of laughter.

The bonfire cast a warm orange glow. Rugger, holding a cup of barley wine, sat among the crowd, listening to the soldiers' conversations. The feeling of cold tent camping from a few days ago seemed like a distant memory. He bit into the beef in his hand, watched the soldiers' revelry, and quietly took a sip of warm barley wine, murmuring words that no one could hear:

"Old buddies, I avenged you..."

Tears streamed down his weathered face, and the soldiers around him seemed at a loss, but soon, a young recruit took the cup of wine from a comrade and replaced Rugger's empty one, patting the old soldier's shoulder and shouting loudly, "To Rugger, to those brave predecessors, cheers!"

Gulping down the wine, the cheers gradually drowned out the sadness in their hearts.

Rodi, with a flushed face, sat on the ground—never a heavy drinker, he felt warm in his chest, dazedly looking ahead. He felt that having a group of comrades who had survived life and death together made his heart... warm.

"Rodi! What do we do next?"

Carter, excitedly representing the crowd's opinion, asked Rodi, who was sitting on the ground looking at the sky.

"What else? Sleep soundly! When I find a way to make money, I'll increase the military pay and bonuses, and let you go to town to find women with the gold!"

The chaotic words echoed, and laughter reverberated through the village. Rodi felt the world slowly spinning, and the constant vigilance in his heart finally eased. He lay down among the revelers... and fell asleep.

More wood was added to the bonfire, and the high-pitched singing turned into whispers, eventually giving way to snoring.

In the courtyard, the Nolan village scouts, like Rodi, gathered and lay on the ground, spending their first night back home.

And... they had the most peaceful sleep they had had in a long time.

***

At the same moment Rodi and his team safely returned to Nolan village, the other end of the Neshemiah grassland erupted in a bloody battle that had not been seen for many years.

Black smoke rose, and the flames brought not warmth and intimacy, but destruction and slaughter.

The battle between the "Hammer of Rohar" and the "Blood Spear" tribes resulted in thousands of casualties. Although conflicts occurred every year, the orc kingdom was already accustomed to and even enjoyed them, but this year's war was clearly on an unprecedented scale—most importantly, the "Hammer of Rohar," which had always had a significant military advantage, was now retreating step by step under the "Blood Spear's" attacks. After two months of fighting, the war only ended when they were forced to cede large territories.

Such a grudge could not be easily resolved, and it was clear that Rohar would have to fight to the death with the "Blood Spear" in the coming years. But what troubled the Rohar chief the most was not the battle's failure, but the mysterious disappearance of his most capable subordinate, the shaman Sarota.

The last place the seventy-five wolf cavalry appeared was in the Gossack village. According to the villagers, the shaman Sarota's last battle was to pursue those thirty human scouts, and he never returned, possibly having been killed...

The orc reporting this situation was slapped out of the chief's tent, and when he stumbled back, he could still hear the chief's furious roar—

"Do you think I'm stupid?! Seventy-five wolf cavalry! And Sarota! They just lost their lives chasing thirty scouts?!"

Further questioning yielded no new information. After a few days, when more scouts were sent to the Death Swamp and seven or eight more died, Rohar had to accept a fact...

The clever shaman... was probably really gone.

By now, he and the chief of the "Blood Spear" knew that the war was instigated by humans, but it was too late to do anything about it—unifying to target the humans on the other side of the grassland was simply unrealistic for orcs who only thought about annexing each other's pastures!

The war had already been fought, and many had died. Territory had been invaded, and most importantly, the fighting had depleted their resources—losing seventy-five wolf cavalry was already painful, but the death of the shaman Sarota had reduced the tribe's combat strength by almost half!

Rohar wanted to crush those cunning humans into meat paste with a hammer, but he soon realized he didn't even know where they were...

The frustrated chief could do nothing but focus on how to quickly restore the tribe's strength—he had no idea that in the village that once belonged to Sarota, a young orc had solemnly vowed to avenge his teacher.

Rodi had no idea that he had killed the mentor of the future orc supreme ruler, "King of Ten Thousand Axes" Solon, and he did not understand that the lean orc who fell in the Death Swamp was the main instigator of the entire orc invasion of the Carren Kingdom!

Now, when "Solon," the once "brave but foolish" ruler, issued his "vengeance vow," history was completely altered, taking an unpredictable path...

***

The rainy season gradually came to an end without notice.

Since the scouts returned from the grassland, the atmosphere in Nolan village had subtly changed due to the transformation of these soldiers. Perhaps the once-numb young men had finally experienced the excitement and passion they had never felt before, or perhaps it was the promise Captain Rodi had made to them, which sounded like a joke. In any case, the farmers would see the scouts running around the village every morning, shouting strange slogans like "one two three four" and "defend the country."

These were the young men, like the rising sun, full of vibrant energy.

By the end of August, the midday sun was no longer scorching, and a cool breeze brought a refreshing feel. The hottest days of summer in Nolan village had passed, and with the resolution of the orc crisis, the soldiers' training had shifted from cavalry and slashing attacks to solid defensive tactics, to be effective in complex and varied environments or certain dungeons.

On August 27, 588 Elan, after making a new shortbow, Rodi set out for the city of Holier.

Everything was proceeding according to his previous plans: the orc kingdom's raid had boosted his level to 8, and the composite shortbow he made, though not "excellent" but just a white item, had better damage, arrow speed, and firing rate than the previous horn bow. With such a weapon, Rodi planned to go to Holier, see if there was a chance to eliminate the future "traitor" Francis, and take the "Blasphemy Herb" to try to cure the old duke.

If everything went smoothly, after these tasks were completed, Rodi could choose a good place for the scouts to train, and he would start preparing for the "advanced class" trial mission after reaching level 10.

Rodi always did things this way, making plans and strictly executing them—though before leaving, he naturally had to say goodbye to his comrades who had shared life and death with him...

"Hey, I should teach them to sing 'Ten Farewells to the Red Army'..."

After walking for three or four miles, Rodi could still see the scouts standing at the village entrance. Though moved, he said some off-the-cuff words.

In his previous life as a ranger, he often went weeks or months without talking to anyone, and the habit of self-soothing had stayed with him. Silence for too long made a person a bit introverted, and Rodi felt like the main character in the movie "Cast Away" who always talked to the volleyball "Wilson." Sometimes, talking to himself brought him a sense of pleasure.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the vast blue sky and couldn't help but hum the tune that popped into his head: "First farewell to the Red Army, down the mountain..."

"Second farewell—forget it, it's really damn ugly..."

The sound of hooves echoed in his ears, and as the Silent Forest gradually came into view, he couldn't help but think about his last trip to Holier.

It was better not to think about it, but when he did, he actually missed the thrilling escape with the duke's daughter—especially the moment when Sally, thinking she was a ghost, fainted on the ground, which became a memory he would never forget... of course, perhaps it was mainly because he was deeply impressed by the white, tender skin exposed when Sally's clothes slipped.

What is she doing now? Fighting with her brother? Hey... his identity was only known to her in the noble class, and as long as she didn't reveal it, having the "scout" identity as a cover made everything he did invincible—the idiot Francis probably never thought it was me who saved Sally?

Thinking about this, the sky gradually darkened.