Chapter 244 - 204: The Sound of Strings on a Snowy Night

They were like desperate gamblers, still clinging to the vain hope of a comeback, of winning it all back.

There were almost none as clear-headed as Aidan.

"Anyone with a shred of sense knows that victory in this war became a distant dream the moment those Zor Priests were wiped out. I certainly don’t wish to be buried here with the rest." Leiden neither confirmed nor denied her words. He wanted to take a sip of hot plum wine, only to find his cup was empty. He gave up on the idea.

"Tell me, when are you planning to leave? I’ll go with you," Aidan asked urgently, taking his silence as an admission.

Only she knew just how exceptionally talented this inconspicuous Goblin truly was.

The fact that he, a Goblin, could command a group of Centaur Warriors was proof enough of his extraordinary nature.

Moreover, when they had gone south to intercept the humans, it was his command that had allowed them to hold out for so long.

But only she and Gus knew about this. As for that Minotaur, Enke, he hadn’t associated with them at all since returning, and they had lost contact.

Or rather, even if that Zor had known, he probably would have dismissed it with contempt, simply because Leiden was a Goblin.

"You should go back for now. I’ll notify you when it’s time to leave. After all, the fewer people who know, the better."

Aidan gave Leiden a long look, then finally nodded. She knew he was right.

A retreat should involve as few people as possible to avoid attracting attention.

Besides, if word got out, the first to come after them would be the leaders of the other Wilderness Tribes.

The Harpies Queen rose and walked toward the entrance, leaving only her back to him.

SWOOSH!

"You guessed wrong, but who’s to say you weren’t faking it? At a time like this, every possibility must be snuffed out!" Leiden watched impassively as her head flew into the air, silently wondering if the appointed time had arrived.

A Centaur Warrior flicked the beads of blood from his saber, caught the headless body before it could fall, and gently laid it in an empty space to the side.

Aidan died without ever understanding how it happened. Her ugly Banshee face still wore the same look of relieved ease from moments before she left.

"Let’s go. It’s time." Leiden smashed his wine cup on the ground, pulled on his Wolf Skin Hat, and led the Centaur Warriors out of the dilapidated tent.

The Wilderness Alliance Army’s camp was divided by Tribe. The Gale Race’s encampment was on the western edge of the entire Alliance Army, right next to a Lizardman Tribe called Green Scale.

They originally had over two thousand members and were a Power not to be underestimated, but after several hard-fought battles, they had suffered heavy losses. Fewer than a thousand remained, and that number included the wounded and Auxiliary Soldiers.

Leiden glanced at the sky. It was as if a dark curtain had been lifted from the world, revealing a hazy gloom in which he could just barely make out the silhouettes of the buildings.

Only a few Kobolds were on guard in the snow at the other camp, shivering. It wasn’t that they were dedicated to their duty; it was simply too cold to sleep.

Leiden wasn’t surprised. In the end, this Alliance Army was just a slapdash troupe. The reality was that most Tribes sent their Vassals to stand guard in the freezing snow while they themselves slept soundly in their tents.

"Proceed according to plan." There were no other orders. Leiden had already briefed these Centaurs on part of the plan beforehand.

The Centaur Warriors silently brought out crudely made oak barrels. Each barrel was half the height of a man, but in the hands of these burly warriors, who stood Sanren Gao tall, they were as easy to lift as rubber balls.

The veins on their marble-column-thick arms bulged as they mustered their strength and hurled the barrels into the sky over the Green Scale Tribe’s camp.

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!

Countless flaming arrows, poised and ready, shot toward the oak barrels in the air.

When they collided, the mid-air barrels erupted in a burst of blue-green flame, seeming to warp the very space around them as countless flaming shards shot out in all directions.

Finally, the flames spread like fiery serpents, igniting the already flammable animal-hide tents.

The ignition point of the oil from this wood was shockingly low. Even in the freezing snow, it exploded like Greek fire, burning with a loud CRACKLE and emitting a thick scent of pine resin.

The oak barrels were undoubtedly filled with oil extracted from pine wood.

This type of tree was so rich in oil that it was prone to spontaneous combustion and only grew in frigid, snowy regions.

The Wilderness People usually used it as fuel in the winter to fight off a cold that could freeze countless people to death.

The Gale Race had collected a good deal of it. Leiden had originally intended to use it for a siege, but it never saw action and was shelved. He never thought it would be used today to give his allies a first taste.

The violent explosions startled everyone from their sleep.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

The Lizardmen of the Green Scale Tribe were the first to scream, seeing the holes burned into their tents. They scrambled out of the encampment without even having time to grab their weapons.

What greeted them was a volley of incredibly sharp Arrows. The Centaur Warriors were like veteran hunters, calmly drawing their bows and nocking arrows again and again.

Within a hundred paces, their Arrows pierced straight through the Lizardmen’s Scales—which were as tough as Leather Armor—sending sprays of blood into the air.

Perhaps when fighting the forces from High Cliff Castle, they had seemed like nothing more than chumps, easily cut down one after another.

But against a different opponent, they were undoubtedly a powerful warrior Race on par with the Minotaurs. Dealing with these small fries, who stood only about two blades high, was all too easy.

Jolted from their sleep, the Green Scale Tribe was completely stunned. Among them, the sharp-eyed Lizardman Clan Leader spotted the Giant Goblin in the midst of the Centaur Warriors and immediately roared a furious curse in the Wilderness slang,

"Leiden, you Kama! Have you gone mad? Why are you attacking my Tribe?!!"

Unfortunately, the only answer he received was an Arrow whistling through the air, which scared him into a hasty donkey roll on the ground. Amazingly, he actually managed to dodge it.

This surprised the Centaur Warrior who had loosed the arrow; it was the only shot he had missed so far. He couldn’t help but get a little more serious.

That newfound seriousness, however, was about to cost the Lizardman Leader his life. He hastily grabbed a corpse to use as a meat shield and fled toward the main army in the rear.

This action made the Centaur Warrior stop shooting.

Soon, the Vassals and Warriors of the Green Scale Tribe discovered that as long as they ran toward the encampments of the other Tribes in the rear, their attackers would stop shooting. One by one, they began a desperate flight for their lives.

Leiden watched all of this with cold eyes.

From the very beginning, he had never thought he could completely rout the enemy with just a few hundred Centaur Warriors.

This was an army of twenty to thirty thousand, and it included some powerful warrior Races no weaker than the Centaurs.

Even if it were twenty thousand pigs standing still waiting to be slaughtered, it would be enough to tire a man out until he couldn’t lift his blade.

His goal was to create chaos—the bigger, the better. Driving these panicked Wilderness People to charge the camps of other Tribes was the simplest way to do it.

All he had to do now was gradually escalate the chaos and hold on until the support from Lord Li arrived, before the other side had a chance to react.

...

Hiding on a snowy slope, Levi watched with great interest through a pair of binoculars.

"Lord, do you think this might be a performance meant to lure us into a trap?" Si Kai was still a little worried. The middle-aged Knight had always lived by the principle of ’the more you do, the more you screw up; the less you do, the less you screw up.’ "This Goblin might be waiting for us to send troops to support him, only for enemy forces to pop up all around and surround us with these chumps."

Levi scoffed. "You expect a bunch of chumps to execute such a difficult feint, accepting real losses to do so?"

"Give me a break. Do you have any idea how hard a tactic like that is to pull off? I’d bet even the Thorn Corps would have a hard time with it."

Fujero, having been caught in the crossfire, suddenly found the ground intensely interesting, pretending he hadn’t heard Lord Li’s remark.

To ensure a feigned defeat doesn’t turn into a real rout requires extremely disciplined soldiers. It’s definitely not something a bunch of chumps could pull off, let alone a pack of country bumpkins from the Wilderness.

But therein lies a contradiction. The soldiers who meet those requirements are always the elite of the elite. A commander would treasure them, so how could he bear to use them as mere grunts for bait?