The return journey was much cleaner than the way there.

The large-scale battles had ceased, with the Slave Legion retreating like the tide, taking their spoils and corpses back with them, while most of the Wizards had already left, leaving only a few watch posts behind.

The forest seemed to have fallen into a brief silence after some sort of shock, even those surviving luminescent plants appeared dull and dim.

The Duke walked silently, his mind replaying every detail of how the Moon Wells were completely extracted.

The massive energy columns, the precise liquid Mithril encapsulation, Vika’s effortless control... all of these repeatedly confirmed the difficulty of acquiring the Moon Wells, but also further clarified the blueprint in his mind.

He noticed that the four sealed Moon Wells did not seem to be promptly transported back to Darkmoon Town but were instead concentrated at a temporary fortified forward base, heavily guarded, clearly awaiting further complex processing procedures.

As he passed through the last patch of woodland, the crude towering walls of Darkmoon Town and the ever-burning ghostly blue magical flames atop the walls once again appeared in his line of sight, and once more a mix of clamor, sweat smell, cheap alcohol, and the scent of metal being forged came rushing forth.

The town appeared more bustling than when they had left.

An orderly line formed at the gate, with slave caravans laden with spoils, stretchers bearing the wounded, and scattered Wizards like the Duke returning from missions, all waiting to enter.

The air was filled with a victorious agitation and a simmering unrest before some impending disorder.

Many returning Wizards bore excited flushed faces, loudly discussing their battles and gains, occasionally bursting into coarse laughter, while even more resounding noise than usual came from the direction of taverns and temporary trading posts.

The Duke calmly walked through the noisy streets, returning to the temporary quarters allocated by the Star Dome Commerce Association in the Explorer’s camp.

The room remained humble, yet at this moment gave an odd sense of security, despite this safety being founded upon the violence inflicted upon another civilization.

He shut the door, isolating the outside clamor.

Without immediately resting or counting his negligible spoils, he walked to the window, opened a slight gap, and gazed outside.

The town was ablaze with lights and filled with noise, seemingly caught in a barbarous celebration.

While outside the town lay the endless dark forest bathed in the moonlight of Elyssra, where just moments ago, four wounds deep enough to reveal bone, along with countless Night Elves’ blood, tears, and hatred, had been added.

The Duke’s gaze wandered between the artificial firelight inside the window and the natural moonlight outside, finally settling into a calm deep as a pool.

He had long grown indifferent after experiencing numerous planar wars.

Earl Hardy had told him long ago, wolves eat sheep, without asking the sheep’s name.

Now, the Duke’s only concern was how to acquire the Moon Well, currently appearing highly challenging.

Firstly, the Moon Wells were situated within the villages of Night Elf tribes, their defenses exceedingly rigorous.

Unless conducting an action like the recent few days, a direct assault capturing an entire village, obtaining the Moon Well wouldn’t be possible.

Obviously, this isn’t something the Duke could achieve on his own; he’s merely a Level 1 Crystalized Mage, even if skilled and powerful, he doesn’t hold the capability to seize an entire Night Elf tribe alone.

Even tribes possessing just a Level 1 Moon Well have multiple Level 2 beings present, which the current Duke can’t contend with.

Moreover, following a direct assault by the main forces on a tribe, the Moon Well, being the most crucial resource, would be controlled by the higher-ups.

Wizards like the Duke working as mercenaries have little opportunity to get near such core resources, it’s already quite fortunate to gain some benefits elsewhere.

Essentially, under normal circumstances, he almost has no chance to seize a Moon Well.

When contemplating this, the Duke’s heart sank; the difficulty of capturing a Moon Well was higher than anticipated.

Yet, it doesn’t mean there’s no chance at all, chaos is always the eternal theme in planar wars, he can only wait for the right moment.

...

Three months passed amid the eternal cycle of moonlight in the Night Elf Plane and the ceaseless advancement, friction, and small-scale conflicts, seemingly speeding up the passage of time.

In the outskirts of Shadow Song Canyon, under the relentless pressure of the Seville Empire’s expeditionary forces, it contracted and crumbled inch by inch like a slowly eroding riverbank.

One Night Elf clan after another, reliant on Level 1 and Level 2 Moon Wells for survival, either struck down by overwhelming forces or forced to relinquish their ancestral lands amidst harassment and resource blockade, migrating deeper and into more dangerous areas of the canyon.

The Duke continually followed the Star Dome Commerce Association’s led or participated action squads, traversing across the ever-expanding conflict zone.

He acted like the most patient predator, engaging in reconnaissance, ambushes, flank harassment, and even small-scale offensives time and again.

Relying on his discretion and various means, he not only survived but also accumulated a considerable amount of resources.

Yet, the team kept changing; the brutal planar wars, like efficient sieves, shifted its composition constantly.

Haral, in pursuit of retreating soldiers in greed, fell into a trap and never returned.

Elwin, severely injured by Elf Assassins proficient in lurking during a nighttime patrol, preserved his life but suffered soul damage, sent back to the Wizard Plane for recovery, delaying his return indefinitely.

Raven utterly lost contact after a solo mission, fate unknown.

Even Master Ted, while covering the destruction of a Moon Well’s Defense Magic Array during a concentrated assault on a stubborn Level 2 clan, was critically injured from their near-death counterattack; although it didn’t threaten his core, he needed to recuperate at the rear for some time.

The team members came and went, constantly replenished with new faces, and constantly seeing others disappear.

The only more familiar figure remaining beside the Duke was Una.

Her Elf bloodline and extensive outdoor survival experience allowed her to excel in many missions and deepened her mournful yet furious feeling toward the forest.

The Duke felt little regarding the changing of teammates.

Planar wars were inherently like this, he had long grown accustomed.

The Duke’s focus steadfastly rested on the elusive Moon Wells.

Over the past three months, he’d witnessed the extraction, packaging, and transportation of no less than ten Level 1 Moon Wells being taken away, and from afar observed the capture of one Level 2 Moon Well, a spectacle requiring even greater force and resources, no less than two Level 3 Mages like Vika were dispatched.

Each time, he was only able to participate as an outsider, watching the most precious spoils be taken by the upper echelons, while what he was left with were mere scraps.

He clearly recognized that relying on official channels, given his current status and power, almost prevented him from touching the Moon Wells.