Chapter 120: Victory!

Wal, who advanced alongside Martin, now wore a face ashen with rage. Heeding his mother’s counsel, the Silver Moon Tribe had fought with extraordinary zeal this time, always charging at the forefront—and thus suffering grievous losses.

Earlier that day, after breaching the fortress wall, they had hoped the subsequent assault would proceed smoothly. Yet before they even reached the encampment of the Blossom Tribe, nearly twenty warriors had fallen in battle, among them five precious deer cavalry.

The life-saving debt owed to Sun Licheng, his assistance to the tribe, the divine oracle of the Silver Moon Goddess, and the hideous visage of his own daughter—all these tangled thoughts plunged Wal into boundless agony. Now, compounded by the heavy casualties among his kin, his heart was rent as if by a thousand knives with every passing moment.

“It never struck me when fighting alongside him, but now that he’s the enemy, I see how formidable Sun Licheng truly is.”

Amidst his torment, Wal suddenly heard Martin whisper softly beside him. After a moment’s thought, he gave a bitter smile and nodded in agreement.

Having witnessed the Blossom Tribe’s formidable prowess, neither Martin nor Wal dared the slightest negligence. They carefully commanded their troops to advance with caution.

The response of the Moon Alliance forces brought great satisfaction to Sun Licheng, who was concealed high upon the mountain peak.

To achieve victory against overwhelming odds, Sun Licheng, the Skilled Artisan, and Qinglong had devised numerous stratagems. The critical prerequisite was that the goblins must not move swiftly and their formation remain tightly packed.

After meticulous preparation, the goblins indeed fell into the trap.

Seeing the majority of goblin forces enter the ambush, Sun Licheng raised his hand. A flame spurted from his fingertip, instantly igniting the nearby fuse.

With a sharp sizzling, the fuse rapidly burned down the mountainside.

As they marched on, Wal and Martin sensed something amiss. Having long skirted the edge of life and death, they were exceptionally attuned to danger—and now, they felt a great peril drawing near.

Martin raised his hand, signaling the entire troop to halt. The goblins gripped their weapons, eyes darting nervously in all directions.

Suddenly, one goblin seemed to glimpse a flash of fire. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked again just as the rock face halfway up the mountain suddenly exploded, showering countless stones like a torrential downpour upon the goblin ranks.

Though bolstered by their war chant, the goblins wore almost no armor; their beast hides offered no protection against the hail of stones, and they fell en masse like wheat stalks swept by the wind.

Wal, pressed flat to the ground, narrowly avoided the first onslaught. But before he could rise, several tremendous explosions rocked the earth—each more violent than the last—causing the ground itself to tremble and the goblins to reel in dizziness.

The surviving goblins, still dazed and struggling to regain their senses, had barely stood when a deafening battle cry erupted before them. The warriors of the Blossom Tribe had returned—and at the forefront was none other than the Death Dance Squad.

The goblins, already terrified of these fearsome foes, now found their ranks broken and their legs trembling. They could not withstand the charge and were swiftly slaughtered in great numbers. Even the large, powerful bear goblins were dispatched with ease, their heads severed as if they were mere chicks.

The goblin forces collapsed utterly. They forgot the oppressive presence of the Silver Moon Goddess, discarded all their weapons, and even the bear goblins cast off their magical armor, fleeing blindly in terror. Many were trampled to death in the chaos.

Martin lay sprawled by the roadside. When he lifted his head, he realized one eye was blinded, blood streaming down from the wound, agony contorting his features into a visage akin to a vengeful specter.

Still not fully recovered, Martin stared blankly as the routed troops fled past him. Fortunately, a guard spotted him, swiftly brought over a moose, helped him mount, then desperately fled with him toward safety.

Sun Licheng led his men in relentless slaughter until they encountered the main forces of the Moon Alliance, under Adolf’s command. Only then did he slow his advance.

Upon seeing the Moon Alliance’s main army, Sun Licheng remained composed. With a single gesture, ten combat automata carrying prototype firearms surged to the front line and unleashed a fierce barrage upon Adolf’s troops.

Though Adolf’s forces far outnumbered their foes, the narrow valley compressed them into a dense cluster, magnifying the deadly power of the gunfire. The goblins suffered severe casualties immediately.

Adolf wished to send troops charging through to break Sun Licheng’s deadly fire, sacrificing lives to punch through the barrage. Yet the cramped valley nullified his numerical advantage, and repeated charges were repelled by the concentrated gunfire. The army was forced into a wholly passive defense.

With no alternative, Adolf ordered a slow withdrawal under the relentless cannon blitz.

Morale plummeted as the goblins returned to camp, and Adolf was stricken with grief. In just two days, the Moon Alliance had lost nearly three thousand men, leaving the army virtually combat-ineffective.

“How did the losses become so great?” Sipus asked in shock.

Adolf sighed and recounted the toll.

On the first day’s attack, ignorance of the terrain cost the goblins over six hundred lives, including seventy-three tribal shamans. During today’s battle, to shield the shamans’ spells, Sun Licheng’s bombardment claimed nearly two hundred more.

But the greatest slaughter came from Sun Licheng’s valley traps. Under falling rocks and two waves of strikes, the goblins lost nearly two thousand souls.

“Unbelievable. How can Sun Licheng be so formidable?” Sipus was utterly stunned.

Adolf sighed again and spoke to the nearby shaman: “Please report to the goddess. Our forces are grievously weakened, morale is at rock bottom—we can no longer fight.”

The shaman nodded silently and departed.

After a while, the shaman returned and told Adolf, “The goddess is furious at our failure. Yet she commands that we cease fighting and retreat, awaiting new divine guidance.”

Upon hearing the order to withdraw, the one-eyed leader of the Moonstone Tribe exhaled deeply. He was grateful for heeding the elder’s counsel. So far, his men had suffered only one death and two injuries—a stark contrast to other tribes, who had been decimated.

The Moon Alliance’s army had shrunk from over eight thousand to barely five thousand, with more than a third lost; some smaller tribes had been wiped out entirely.

“Pack up quickly and leave at once. Move slowly and you may lose your lives,” the one-eyed leader shouted, organizing his men to prepare for retreat.

Sun Licheng only learned of the goblins' withdrawal two days later. While others rejoiced in victory, he wore a puzzled expression. Deep down, he felt the Silver Moon Goddess would not abandon them so easily. Even with fewer than half the troops lost, or even if every goblin perished, the gods would shed no tears. To these exalted beings, mortals were mere ants, their lives and deaths meaningless.

“But in the end, we have won. Whatever tricks the Silver Moon Goddess employs next, I will face them head-on,” Sun Licheng declared silently.

As little Medusa Vina, overwhelmed with excitement, clung to him and kissed his cheek repeatedly, Sun Licheng’s resolve blazed fiercely within his heart.