"Look! Killing one Orc Infantry rewards 10 Contribution Points and 1 Gray Crystal! Limited to 10 per person!"

"What can ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) 1 Gray Crystal buy?"

"It's enough for half a bottle of Low-Grade Healing Potion, plus there are Contribution Points."

"I heard Orc Infantry are all level fifteen, and I'm only level five. Can I even beat them?"

"Even though we're only level five, we have a twenty percent attribute bonus, making us no worse than level seven or eight Awakened! We also have full sets of White Grade equipment; many level seven or eight Awakened can't even scrape together a full set of White gear!"

"Exactly! If we can pick off a few Orc Infantry today and level up a few times, wouldn't that be sweet?"

"Keep dreaming! You think Orc Infantry are that easy to kill? You think you're Lin Feng?"

"Who is Lin Feng?"

"A reinforcement from Great Xia, a Third Rank Lord who slaughtered his way through five thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers alone. You don't even know him?"

"Then with him here, what do we have to fear? Can't he just kill the entire Orc Army by himself?"

"You think he's a god? With tens of thousands of them, they could drown him in spit alone."

"Alright, alright, stop arguing. Do what you need to do. If you took the quest, go do it. Kill what you can, and if you can't, run. Staying alive is most important."

"Do you think... the Holy City can hold? If it doesn't, will our Tieba Kingdom be destroyed?"

The crowd fell silent for a moment. A raspy voice rang out, carrying a heavy Tieba Kingdom accent.

"What's there to fear? Our past peaceful days were fought for by our ancestors with blades and spears."

"Now it's our turn. How can we shrink back? Even if we die, we die on the path of the charge!"

"Well said!" someone applauded.

"Right! Even if we die, we die on the path of the charge!"

"At worst, I'll be a hero again in eighteen years!"

The crowd grew lively again. Laughter and cheers mixed together, diluting much of the tragic solemnity.

Lin Feng stood outside the crowd, looking at those young, naive, and even somewhat comical faces. A complicated feeling welled up in his heart.

These level five Adventurers, wearing cheap White Grade equipment, couldn't even withstand a single blow from an Orc Infantryman.

But they weren't afraid—not because they didn't know the danger, but because they knew some things were more important than life.

He withdrew his gaze and continued walking toward the West Gate.

Whenever a nation is on the brink of destruction, these heroic and moving people always emerge.

Whether on Blue Star or in the Nightmare World, whether in Great Xia or the Tieba Kingdom, whether ninety years ago or ninety years later.

There are always those who stand up in the darkest moments, building the final line of defense with their own flesh and blood.

On the West Gate city wall, people were coming and going, as busy as ants moving a nest.

Soldiers shuttled across the wall carrying rolling logs, stone projectiles, and caltrops.

The rolling logs were Iron Birch wood, a specialty of the snow mountains, three times heavier than ordinary wood.

Smashed down from a forty-meter-high wall, the damage would be at least 300 or more.

The stone projectiles were granite pieces of various sizes, polished into spheres and piled behind the battlements like small mountains.

Every few intervals along the wall, there was a large cauldron with firewood burning beneath it, boiling oil inside—boiling oil troughs.

When the Orc Army besieged the city, the scalding oil would be poured down. The mere thought of that sensation was painful.

Lin Feng stepped onto the city wall, the morning breeze fluttering the hem of his clothes.

Liu Zhenshan was already standing behind the battlements, hands braced against the bricks, gazing at the wilderness to the west.

Hearing footsteps, he turned his head and nodded to Lin Feng.

"Morning," Liu Zhenshan said.

"Morning." Lin Feng walked to his side, leaning against the battlements and looking west.

There was nothing on the western horizon—no Orc Army, no dust clouds, no sound of horns.

Only the gray-green moss of the Grey Tundra stretched all the way to the skyline.

But everyone knew that behind that emptiness, tens of thousands of Orc Army troops were massing.

Today, they would appear on this plain.

Lin Feng and Liu Zhenshan stood side by side on the wall, gazing west; neither spoke.

The wind blew from the west, carrying the chill of ice and snow and a faint, indiscernible scent of blood.

Behind them on the wall, soldiers were still busy. Rolling logs and stone projectiles were stacked neatly, the fires under the boiling oil troughs burned brightly, and the ropes of the catapults were pulled taut.

The sentries on the minarets held binoculars, their gazes piercing through the Grey Tundra toward the western horizon.

They were waiting.

Waiting for that first black line to appear on the empty horizon.

Then, the war would begin.

...

At exactly two o'clock in the afternoon, on the plain outside the West Gate of Kara Holy City.

Sunlight slanted down from the snow mountain peaks, dyeing the Grey Tundra a ghastly white.

The five-kilometer city wall was like a gray mountain range, lying across the wilderness and the snow mountains.

Behind the forty-meter battlements, flags stood like a forest. The scimitars of the Delhi Sultanate Infantry glinted coldly in the sun, and the menacing silhouettes of catapults and ballistae were clearly visible.

The wall was packed with people: five thousand Delhi Sultanate Elite Infantry, five thousand Delhi Sultanate Infantry, five thousand level nine County Soldiers, and five thousand level ten Awakened, densely covering the entire wall from east to west.

In the open space behind the wall stood another five thousand County Soldiers, five thousand Awakened, and tens of thousands of reserves below level ten.

On the third floor of the West Gate tower, eight figures stood side by side.

Ali Khan stood in the center, his white cloak over silver-white chainmail snapping in the wind.

Liu Zhenshan stood to his right, his dark purple armor appearing calm and heavy.

Faizan leaned on his staff at the very back, his white robes fluttering slightly in the breeze.

Lin Feng stood by the battlements, his Wildfire Spear resting on his shoulder, his gaze crossing the wall to land on the overwhelming green tide two miles away.

"Thirty thousand have come," Liu Zhenshan spoke, his voice low.

"The rest should still be back in the Orc territories."

Lin Feng nodded without speaking.

Three miles from the city wall, at an altitude of ninety meters, six figures hovered in the air.

The Orc War Lord stood at the front, nearly three meters tall. His black plate armor was inlaid with menacing beast bones, and he held a double-bladed battle-axe, crimson eyes peering from beneath his helmet.

Behind him, four Blademasters were lined up, their lean bodies painted with red war tattoos, greatswords held horizontally before them.

An Orc Prophet floated at the rear, hunched over, his gray robes fluttering in the wind as the bone shards hanging from the head of his withered wood staff jingled.

They were overlooking the battlefield, with no intention of personally intervening for the time being. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Below the city wall, that green tide began to surge.

Thirty thousand Orc Infantry, Archers, and Direwolf Cavalry spread densely from the western horizon to within two miles of the wall.

The formations were orderly, their murderous intent piercing the sky.

Ten Mammoth War Elephants were like moving hills, their iron barding reflecting cold light in the sun.

In the wooden arrow towers on their backs, Troll Archers had already drawn their massive bows.