Chapter 11: Outside the City

At the border of the Nolan Empire, where the northern and southern continents met.

The armored werewolf general stared absently into the distance. 

There, a range of mountains piercing straight into the clouds stood silently, with faint shadows of human villages visible through the gaps between the peaks. 

The main summit was steep, encircled by clouds at its height, and the parts above the cloud layer were covered in a thick blanket of white snow—enough to deter anyone from attempting to cross this mountain.

This was the Samuel Mountains that separated the northern and southern continents, said to be named in honor of their great victory, after the commander of the human allied forces from that time.

It was precisely this mountain range that had halted the advance of the human allied forces a thousand years ago, buying the demons a chance to cling to survival.

However, by now, that faint glimmer of hope was teetering in the storm, on the verge of being extinguished at any moment.

“General Bal, Lord Bari’s team has arrived. They’re currently resting at a position one li to the rear. Please give your orders!”

A voice mixed with panting came from behind. 

The werewolf general didn’t turn around, merely nodding slightly.

“Understood. Tell them to stand by in place.”

The werewolf warrior who had reported hesitated a bit before nodding, then leaned down to mutter a few words to a strangely shaped bird. 

With a wave of his hand, the bird spread its wings and flew south.

The warrior breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to gaze blankly at the general’s tall back. 

After a good while, seeing the armored figure still standing there, he couldn’t help asking, “General, if we keep waiting here, won’t the humans…”

Though the warrior hadn’t said it outright, Bal had already guessed his meaning.

“No need to worry.” 

The werewolf general’s black wolf face was full of mockery. 

“That raid fifteen years ago scared the humans here witless. Now, they’ve long lost their will to fight—they’re probably just hunkering down in their shells, trembling like lowly worms.”

He suddenly hesitated for a moment, adding, “Well, most of them.”

The warrior looked puzzled. 

“But General, didn’t we lose that time?”

Lose? By demon standards, they had indeed lost.

The warriors had roared and spilled their hot blood on human soil, only to slink back in defeat. 

The demons’ territory hadn’t expanded at all; instead, it made the human church even more vigilant.

But the werewolf general shook his head. “No, we won.”

The warrior scratched his head.

In the past, Bal wouldn’t have bothered explaining to a subordinate. 

But he was in a good mood today, so he patiently spoke up.

“The outcome of a war depends on what we gain, not just what we lose.”

“What we gained…”

The warrior thought for a moment, then cautiously confirmed, “You mean… the information on the ‘Authority’?”

The werewolf general glanced at him. 

“You’re smarter than you look.”

“The elders said that as long as we obtain that miraculous power, the demons can return to the era from a thousand years ago.” 

As the warrior spoke, a look of longing appeared on his face. 

“I heard that back then, the entire continent was our territory. General, is that true?”

The general nodded silently.

“I’m so envious.” 

The warrior sighed. 

“There must have been plenty of food then.”

“Naturally.”

The warrior fell silent for a while, but couldn’t hold back from speaking again. 

“General, if we really reclaim the full ‘Authority,’ does that mean everyone in the clan won’t have to starve to death anymore?”

“You should think further ahead.” The werewolf general said flatly. 

“Like driving these humans completely off this continent, or even…”

The general lowered his head, looking at the dense gray-black fur on his palm, and slightly clenched his fist.

“Turning us back to what we were a thousand years ago,” he said softly.

The warrior was startled by this unprecedented statement and was about to ask more, but upon seeing the general’s eyes, he froze in place.

That gaze held both a blazing fervor and a chilling killing intent.

“They’re here!” Bal suddenly drew his sword and growled.

“Wha…”

A point of bright light in the distance suddenly expanded, reaching them almost in the blink of an eye.

A fierce wind whipped up, blowing so hard that the warrior could barely open his eyes. 

When he finally managed to see clearly, he immediately drew his waist knife with a horrified expression.

Unbeknownst to him, a white-haired old man had already charged right up to them, holding a long sword with intricate carvings. 

It clashed tightly against the werewolf general’s greatsword, producing a harsh, grating sound of metal friction.

“Storn!” The werewolf general roared, surging with power to knock the old man back. 

He swung the heavy greatsword in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time!”

The old man said nothing, simply raising his sword again and charging forward.

The werewolf and the old man collided.

In just a few short seconds, the man and the wolf had exchanged dozens of blows, their sword swings leaving afterimages in the warrior’s eyes.

The werewolf warrior was just about to shout out when he saw his general bellow, his muscular, knotted thick arms pressing down fiercely with a powerful strike, forcing the white-haired old man to retreat more than a dozen steps.

“General! Let me help you!”

The warrior gripped his weapon and wanted to advance, but the general waved him off.

“Don’t worry—he can’t hurt me.” 

The general grinned. 

He turned to look at the old man who had steadied himself and was gazing coldly this way, his smile growing even wider.

“Storn, we’re old acquaintances, aren’t we? Coming at me with killing intent right away isn’t very nice, is it?”

“There’s no such thing as friendship between me and you evil demons,” the old man said indifferently.

“Evil demons, huh.” The general chuckled lowly.

The old man’s gaze swept over the warrior beside the general, the chill in his eyes nearly freezing the warrior’s blood. 

“If you’ve forgotten how many innocent Nolan subjects the demons slaughtered when they set foot on this land fifteen years ago, then I’ll use the sword in my hand to help you remember.”

“Sounds terrifying.” 

Though he said that, the general’s face held nothing but utter contempt. 

“But with such big talk, how much strength do you have left now? Looking like an old geezer, you must know in your heart how much you overexerted back then.”

With that, he seemed to notice something and paused, sneering. 

“Even in this situation, you’re still reluctant to use that sword—you really look down on me, don’t you?”

The old man snorted heavily. 

“This is enough to kill you.”

“You can’t do it. Besides, you haven’t recognized the situation.” 

The general shook his head with a sigh. 

“This war isn’t as simple as you defeating me or me taking you down. But I don’t blame you—humans have always thought we’re just brainless beasts, incapable of any schemes or tricks.”

He smiled coldly. 

“You’ve occupied demon lands for over a thousand years, enjoying the prey and water sources that rightfully belong to us. But your nobles are sunk in pleasure, your soldiers lax in battle. You have no idea that even the weakest, kindest wolf in the pack will tear a chunk of flesh from its enemy to survive!”

“What do you mean?” The old man frowned.

“You’ll understand soon enough.” The werewolf bared his teeth. 

“Of course, it’s more likely you’ll die clueless.”

“You won’t say, huh.” The old man slowly raised his sword. 

“Then just like back then, I’ll beat you down.”

“Hmph, I was thinking the same.” 

The werewolf general held his greatsword level, his aura imposing. 

“Let me see how much strength remains in one of the three sword masters from back then, the Wind Sword—Storn Grieves!”

The warrior at the general’s side suddenly felt a chill in his heart, and almost in the next instant, that eerie fierce wind howled once more.

But this time, it wasn’t from the front—it was from behind.

The warrior squinted and looked over, discovering that the fragmented winds were surging toward the old man from all directions, gathering at his feet. 

They swirled restlessly, climbing rapidly up his legs, waist, and arms, finally resting on the blade of his upraised sword.

The surrounding winds didn’t stop there; instead, they grew even stronger, the clamorous vortex nearly knocking the warrior off his feet.

“This is—” With his eyes barely open a slit, gazing at the emerald greatsword that blotted out the sky, the warrior murmured in disbelief.

So, General Bal had been repelled by such a monster in the past…

Under the fierce wind, the warrior felt that even standing firm required all his strength. 

He gritted his teeth, his wolf face rigid like frozen ice, his hand gripping the hilt trembling slightly, fine beads of sweat slowly seeping out.

At that moment, he suddenly felt the pressure on him lighten abruptly—it was the tall back blocking in front of him.

“General?!”

“Baton, leave here. This isn’t a battle you can join.” The general’s calm voice sounded from ahead.

“General, but—”

“Enough, fall back. That’s an order.”

The warrior nodded unwillingly and slowly retreated.

“Finished with your last words?” 

The old man, holding high the sky-piercing greatsword condensed from wind, asked expressionlessly.

“You still talk so harshly.” 

The general sighed. 

“But using your full power like this is a bit beyond my expectations. Aren’t you considering what comes after at all? I heard you have a son.”

“To cut off your wolf head here, any price is worth it,” the old man said flatly.

But the werewolf general sneered.

“Foolish! If you want to die here, then I’ll grant your wish.”

He paused. 

“But since you’re already a dead man walking, telling you some truths won’t hurt.”

The wind momentum suddenly stalled.

“What did you say?” 

The old man asked gravely.

The werewolf burst into laughter, his voice full of delight and joy.

“Our true target—”

“Isn’t this tiny Nolan at all!”