Real Mount and Blade Game

Shen Mu hosted a victory banquet at Deherem Castle, where the amber wine reflected the relieved smiles on the generals' faces.

As the patrol along the city wall continued into the night, the curse in his palm suddenly burned like a branding iron—the dark clouds in the direction of the Corruption Swamp surged abruptly, and a purplish-black beam of light tore through the night sky and pierced straight up the city wall.

"Eye of Judgment!" Shen Mu roared, smashing his wine glass.

The arcane matrix atop the fortress roared in response, and the shockwave from the collision of the destructive beam and the corrupted energy toppled the entire section of the wall.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth through the smoke and dust, and sneered, "Finally, they've come."

Dusk, like molten iron, settled on the towering walls of Deherme. The last rays of the setting sun were swallowed by the jagged crenellations, leaving only the torches atop the walls flickering in the rising evening breeze, casting long, distorted shadows. The clanging of metal and the shouts of commands from the daytime training had fallen silent, replaced by the gradual lighting of lights within the city and the faint aroma of food wafting through the air. A sense of relaxation after tension filled the air, yet an invisible burden still weighed heavily on it—an intangible gloom spreading from the direction of Long City and the depths of the Rotten Swamp, like a blunt sword hanging overhead.

The chill of the castle's imposing main hall was temporarily dispelled. The crackling pine fire in the massive stone fireplace bathed the room in a warm, golden-orange glow. The long oak table, polished to a gleaming shine, almost reflected the wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Instead of cold maps and strategic sand tables, piles of steaming roasted venison, whole honey-glazed geese, heaps of dark bread, and bowls of fragrant vegetable soup filled the table. In rustic earthenware goblets, amber-colored ale and deep red wine, reflecting the firelight, exuded the rich aroma of fermented grains and fruits.

Shen Mu sat in the main seat, with a high-backed lord's chair behind him. He had changed out of his battle-stained uniform, now a dark, dark green belted casual robe, with only the griffon emblem of Deherim embroidered in silver thread on the collar and cuffs. The firelight softened the deep lines etched between his brows by intense pain and pressure, but could not completely erase the lingering weariness and restraint in the depths of his eyes. He held a rough earthenware cup of the same material, the rim touching his lips, but did not drink deeply; he merely symbolically moistened his lips. Deep in his palm, the mark originating from the fragment of Yenogu's divinity, like a buried ember, sent deep and persistent throbbing pains with each heartbeat, reminding him of the price of his power and the danger hanging over his head.

"Everyone!" Shen Mu's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange penetrating power, easily suppressing the clattering of cups and the clamor in the hall. All eyes instantly converged on him, and the faces of those who had experienced the carnage of the ancestral tomb ruins, the despair of the Wood Elf Forest, and the battles of the Blood-Weeping Valley were now filled with awe and anticipation.

"The walls of Deherme are complete," his gaze slowly swept across every face in the hall: the composure of the Knight Fatis, the aristocratic rigidity of Rezarit, the shrewd calculation of Manid, the cautious respect of Sun Zhiru, and the battlefield etched on the faces of many officers. "They are higher, thicker, and stronger than when we left. This was not achieved in a day; it was the result of the tireless efforts and sacrifices of all of you, every one of you here, and countless soldiers and civilians outside the city! This cup is a toast to you!" His voice suddenly rose, carrying a metallic clang, "A toast to this steel fortress! A toast to all those who sacrificed for it!"

"Homage to the Lord! Homage to Deherem!" came a thunderous roar in response. Glasses were raised high, ale and wine foaming and then downed in one gulp. Rough laughter, the clinking of dishes, and satisfied chewing filled the hall once more. The tense nerves found a brief respite and soothing comfort in that moment.

Shen Mu's gaze fell on Rezarit, the noble knight known for his rigidity and strictness, who was meticulously cutting the venison on his plate, his movements as precise as a textbook. Shen Mu picked up his wine glass and strolled over.

“Lord Rezarit,” Shen Mu’s voice carried a rare hint of ease, “the castle’s defenses, the layout of the bastions, the power of the ‘Citybreaker,’ and that ‘Eye of Judgment’… I’ve seen all your hard work. It’s like a meticulously polished rock, Deherim’s sharpest fangs and strongest shield. Thank you for your efforts.” He reached out and patted Rezarit’s tense shoulder with just the right amount of force.

Rezarit was clearly taken aback by the lord's personal toast, especially such an intimate gesture. His body stiffened abruptly, the silver cleaver he was using clattering onto the plate, and a barely perceptible blush rose to his cheeks—a rare occurrence for him. He abruptly stood up, the armor plates scraping together with a slight creak, his movement so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. "To die for my lord! To die for Deherim!" His voice trembled slightly with excitement, his right fist slamming heavily onto his left breastplate, producing a dull thud.

“Sit down, sit down,” Shen Mu said with a slight smile, tinged with helplessness. “Tonight is a victory celebration, not a military review.” He gestured for Rezarit to sit down, then turned his gaze to Manid, who was wiping the fine sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “And our steward.”

Manid immediately put down his wine glass, a shrewd smile typical of a businessman spreading across his face. He spoke rapidly: "You flatter me, sir! Everything is according to your plan. The immigrants in the western outer city have been properly settled, and the market is taking shape. The fortifications and storage areas in the eastern outer city are also complete. The metallurgical district is working day and night to produce arrowheads and city defense components. All functional areas in the inner city are operating smoothly. The granaries are piled high, the winter wheat is growing well, and the newly reclaimed slopes have been sown with spring seeds... Everything is on track!"

"The orbit?" Shen Mu gently swirled the remaining wine in his glass, the amber liquid leaving fine streaks on the glass's surface. "Manid, what lies beyond the orbit?" His voice was soft, but his gaze was sharp as a hawk's. "The sand beyond the walls, those whirlpools, those decaying golems crawling out from the depths of the earth… they won't follow our orbit. The granaries must be full, and the people's hearts must be at peace. Fortifying the walls, stockpiling supplies, especially black crystal ore and purification materials, cannot be relaxed for a moment. The black clouds of the Corruption Swamp are closer to us than the whirlpools of the Ancestral Tomb. That is the guillotine hanging over our heads, ready to fall at any moment."

Manid's smile froze instantly, and the sweat he had just wiped from his forehead began to reappear. He quickly bowed and said, "Yes, yes! Your Excellency is wise! This humble official will be doubly careful, patrol day and night, and ensure that all supplies and city defenses are reinforced to the highest wartime standards! I will not dare to be negligent in the slightest!" He felt an invisible pressure descend upon him, as if even the heat from the fireplace could not dispel the chill.

Shen Mu nodded slightly, saying nothing more. His gaze swept across the crowd and landed on a figure in the corner—Sun Zhiru. This "representative" who had been chosen to manage the Blue Star immigrants was now carefully holding a glass of wine, his face adorned with an overly eager, almost fawning smile, his eyes fixed on Shen Mu's figure, as if searching for an opportunity to curry favor.

A faint sense of weariness swept through Shen Mu's heart. He wasn't unaware of the thoughts of these Earthlings struggling to survive, cast into this alien world by fate. Fear, dependence, scheming, and a barely perceptible sense of alienation and resentment. The curses of the Zhang Song and Zhang Bo brothers in the dungeon were, in a way, a microcosm of the twisted mentality of some. He needed their faith power—that gathered, intangible spiritual force derived from the concept of "protection"—a crucial barrier against the corrosive influence of the Yenogu curse. As for the internal strife and petty maneuvering, as long as they didn't cross the line or hinder the generation of faith power, he couldn't be bothered to manage them. Sun Zhiru was obedient enough to stabilize the situation; that was enough.

Sun Zhiru caught Shen Mu's gaze, as if receiving some kind of signal. He immediately bowed and approached at almost a jog, respectfully holding a wine cup in both hands: "My lord! Thanks to your divine grace, we, the remnants of Blue Star, have a place to live and can enjoy food and clothing! We... we are grateful for your kindness day and night, and we are willing to give our lives to repay even a fraction of it!" His words were filled with an exaggerated, rote piety, but his eyes were nervously glancing at Shen Mu's face.

Shen Mu merely raised his glass casually, without even clinking glasses with him, his voice flat and emotionless: "Sun Zhiru, keep your men in check. Ensure they lack nothing in terms of food, clothing, shelter, and transportation; make them behave themselves and do not cause trouble. If anything happens, consult Knight Fatis or Steward Manid. If they cannot resolve the matter, then report to me." His words were concise, carrying an unquestionable authority, as if he were instructing someone on a trivial matter.

"Yes! Yes! I understand! I will certainly live up to your trust, sir! I will ensure that all my compatriots are grateful for your kindness and behave themselves!" Sun Zhiru was overjoyed, his voice trembling with excitement, his back bent even lower, the wine in his cup spilling out due to his slight trembling. A force of faith far stronger than that of ordinary soldiers, almost fanatical, surged towards Shen Mu as if it were tangible. The burning pain of the gray mark on Shen Mu's palm seemed to be slightly soothed by this force for a moment, bringing a faint coolness. He understood in his heart, but his face remained calm, only nodding slightly.

The banquet reached its climax amidst the lively drinking and boisterous shouts and drinking games. Shen Mu put down his barely touched wine glass and stood up. This action seemed like an invisible signal; the noise in the hall was instantly cut off, leaving only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. All eyes were once again focused on him.

"Even with ample food and warm clothing, we must not forget our worries." Shen Mu's voice returned to its usual cool tone, exceptionally clear in the silent hall. "The walls of Deherim are not only made of stone and rammed earth, but also of human hearts and sharp blades. Come with me to see this steel ring that protects us."

Without a word, Fatis, Rezarit, Manid, and the others immediately rose solemnly and followed suit. The heavy hall doors were pushed open by the guards, and the cool breeze of the early spring night, carrying the scent of earth and rust, instantly rushed in, dispelling the warmth and smell of alcohol in the hall and making everyone's spirits tremble.

Night had fallen, and the stars were sparse against the dark blue sky. A crescent moon hung above the spire of the castle's main tower, casting a cool, pale light. Shen Mu refused the heavy cloak offered by the servant, choosing to wear only a single layer of clothing as he stepped onto the towering circular horse path of the castle district. The cold stone bricks sent a chill through his thin boots, and the night wind brushed against his bare neck, sending a slight shiver down his spine, but also instantly dispelling the slight drowsiness he had felt from the banquet.

The city wall beneath their feet was wide enough for four heavily armored knights to walk side by side. On the outer side were crenellations nearly two people high, studded with sharp metal spikes; moonlight streamed across the cold metal, gleaming with a chilling blue light. At intervals, there was a protruding, semi-circular, armored arrow tower, like a grotesque bone spike growing from a colossal beast. Through the dark firing ports of these towers, the thick bows of massive ballistae and the heavy bolts gleaming with a metallic sheen could be vaguely seen—the "City Breakers," deadly weapons capable of tearing apart siege behemoths. On the inner side were relatively low defensive walls, at the base of which lay a deep moat, swallowed by shadows, from which the faint gurgling sound of water washing against the stone walls could be heard in the darkness.

“My lord, please look here.” Rezarit quickened his pace, pointing to a square building heavily guarded near the base of the main tower. The heavy stone doors were tightly shut, and several sentries stood like statues beside them, their eyes sharp as eagles. Above the lintel was a strange rune, faintly emanating magical fluctuations. “The core armory. It contains enough ‘Ember Stone’ powder, black crystal arrows, enchanted crossbow bolts, and some purification potions brought from the Holy Tree Knights to sustain six months of high-intensity defensive operations. The guards are on duty day and night, in shifts.”

Shen Mu's gaze lingered on the runes for a moment, then he nodded slightly. The Emberstone Powder—a remnant painstakingly extracted from the Corpse Crystal after the Wood Elf Forest's pyrrhic victory—possessed a natural resistance to corrupting power. The Black Crystal Arrows were even more precious; the battle at Bloodshed Valley had nearly depleted their reserves. These were the lifeblood of Deherim.

The group ascended the horse path, spiraling up to the highest point of the castle district—the rooftop platform of the main tower. Here, the wind was stronger, whipping their robes through the air. At the center of the platform was not the expected command post, but a massive, circular metal structure supported by several thick metal pillars, its surface covered with intricate and mysterious patterns. It wasn't a ballista, but rather resembled a giant metallic eye, silently facing southeast—towards the Corruption Swamp. The cold metal gleamed with a dull, deep purple sheen in the moonlight. The intricate patterns weren't inanimate; rather, an extremely faint, almost liquid, ghostly blue light flowed and circulated within them, emitting a low, almost inaudible hum that penetrated to the very core of one's being. “The Eye of Judgment.” Fatis’s voice carried an almost reverent solemnity as he stood beside the massive metal construct, his figure appearing tiny. “It combines Rhodok’s finest engineering techniques, some principles of the Vaegir Frost Runes, and the core arcane matrix provided by the Knights of the Holy Tree. It can draw upon the free magic from the ley lines and the air, compressing and focusing it through the matrix to unleash a pure beam of energy. Its destructive power against spirits, energy beings, and entities highly corrupted by the Abyss is immeasurable. Activating it once requires a large reserve of magic crystals and at least three mid-level mages to maintain the channeling. Currently, there is only enough energy for three salvos.”

Shen Mu slowly stepped forward, extending his hand. His fingertips didn't actually touch the cold metal surface, but stopped a few inches away. A powerful, chaotic, and chilling energy fluctuation emanated from the depths of the metal "eye," resonating strangely with the stinging sensation branded into his palm. It wasn't a confrontation, but rather a perception of a powerful being of the same kind. He could clearly "hear" the subtle hissing sound of the pale blue energy flowing within the metal's patterns, like the breathing of a sleeping creature. The ash power within his body seemed to be stimulated, instinctively accelerating its flow through his meridians, bringing a burning, stinging pain.

“Very good.” Shen Mu withdrew his hand, his voice low and unreadable, but a sharp glint of admiration flashed in his eyes. “This is a power capable of changing the nature of war. Lord Fatis, Lord Rezarit, you have done well. This will be one of Deherim’s last trump cards in the face of the Abyss.” He turned around, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over the silent ballistae standing at the edge of the platform and the sparsely lit inner city below. “Let’s go and take another look at the east and west flanks of the outer city. Our shield must protect not only the heart, but also the body.”

The procession wound its way down the steps of the castle district, passing through the heavily guarded military barracks of the inner city and the still brightly lit metalworking workshops (from which came the clanging of hammers and the deep roar of furnaces), until it reached the massive archway connecting the western outer city.

Outside the archway, the scene abruptly changed. The wide, cobblestone main road was no longer lined with imposing military buildings, but with rows of neat three-story stone and wood structures. Although it was late at night, many of the ground-floor shops and workshops facing the street had already closed, their wooden doors tightly shut, but a few windows still emitted a dim, yellow light, from which the faint murmurs of children or the whispers of couples could be heard. Upstairs, most windows were lit by candlelight or cheap fluorescent lights, outlining figures either busy or resting. The air was filled with the smells of charcoal, cooked food, cheap tobacco, and the distinctive aroma of life in a human settlement. Despite its simplicity, it was brimming with the vibrant energy of struggling for survival. This was the resettlement area planned by Manid, the raw, vibrant life growing from the massive body of Deherem.

A patrol of soldiers spotted a figure on the city wall and, by the moonlight and the torchlight, identified Shen Mu. The Swadian sergeant leading the patrol immediately stopped, clenching his right fist and slamming it heavily against his left breastplate with a dull thud. At the same time, he straightened his back, head held high, and gave a perfect knightly salute. The soldiers behind him also stood at attention and saluted in unison, their silent respect filling the cold air, the iron plates of their armor making a slight scraping sound in the stillness.

Shen Mu stood behind the battlements, nodding slightly. His gaze swept over the lit windows, the construction debris still lingering in the street corners, and the shadowy outline of the windmill in the distance. This place held hope, yet it was also its most vulnerable. He turned to Manid: "The West City is its lifeblood, its Achilles' heel. Double the manpower for defenses, especially night patrols. The grain and fodder storage points must be dispersed, concealed, and have emergency evacuation plans. The hearts and minds of the people are here; we cannot afford to lose them."

"Your subordinate will remember! We will begin strengthening it tomorrow!" Manid hurriedly bowed and replied, sweat beading on his forehead.

The group marched eastward along the city wall. The further east they went, the sparser the lights became, and the faint scent of human presence in the air grew weaker, replaced by an indescribable sense of oppression mixed with decaying vegetation and a faint fishy smell. When they finally reached the section of the eastern outer city wall facing the Rotten Swamp, the atmosphere was as heavy as iron.

Here, there were no warm lights, no signs of life. Only cold, heavy stone bricks reflecting the moonlight, like the silent spine of a giant beast. Behind the crenellations, every few steps a sentry stood, their posture like nails. They were mostly mounted archers or bandits from the Kujit tribe, their eyes sharp as eagles on the steppe, vigilantly scanning the land to the east, completely shrouded in deep darkness. In the darkness, a dark cloud, deeper, heavier, and more unsettling than the night itself, was faintly visible on the distant horizon, like an inverted ink mountain range, pressing heavily on everyone's hearts. That was the direction of the Swamp of Decay. Occasionally, the edge of that dark cloud would twitch very faintly, as if something alive was writhing within it.

A Khergit sentry spotted Shen Mu and his group. Instead of performing the Swadian chest-thumping salute, he placed his right hand on the hilt of his scimitar at his waist, bowed slightly, and let the end of the scabbard lightly touch the ground—a simple yet poignant gesture reminiscent of the steppe. His companions behind him followed suit, their movements displaying the fierceness and alertness of mounted archers.

An eerie silence hung over the city walls, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind sweeping across the crenellations, carrying with it a faint, sigh-like murmur from the distant darkness. The soldiers held their breath, as if afraid to disturb the terrifying presence slumbering in the shadows. Beyond the walls, as far as the eye could see, lay a desolate expanse of wilderness, its outline blurred by the moonlight. But everyone knew that beneath this seemingly peaceful landscape lurked a deadly threat—corrosive golems that could spring at any moment from the polluted earth, and the unknown terror brewing deep within the dark clouds, known as the "Gate of the Corrupted Realm."

Shen Mu stood before the battlements, facing the boundless darkness, silent as stone. The night wind whipped the hem of his dark green robes, making them flutter. His left hand unconsciously gripped the cold stone edge, his fingertips turning slightly white from the force. His right hand, which had seemed to hang casually at his side, was now quietly clenched into a fist, hidden within his wide sleeve. Deep within his palm, the grayish-white mark of the Yenogu curse, like ice thrown into a pot of boiling oil, suddenly erupted with unimaginable heat and excruciating pain! The pain didn't originate from his flesh; it burned directly into his soul, surging wildly up his arm bones, instantly numbing and stiffening half of his body!
"Ugh..." He forced back an extremely suppressed groan, as if squeezed out from between his teeth. A vein throbbed on his forehead, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly soaked his temples. He abruptly closed his eyes, channeling all the power of ashes within his body to suppress the malevolent corrosive force of the otherworldly deity's lingering will. The icy power of ashes and the scalding curse imprint collided and tore fiercely in the small space of his palm, like two raging torrents vying for control.

At the very moment when the excruciating pain and struggle reached their peak—

boom! ! !
Without warning! A deafening roar that sent chills down one's spine tore through the deathly silence of the night! The sound did not come from a physical explosion, but rather from the roar of a terrifying beast that had slumbered for millennia in the deepest depths of the abyss, filled with endless resentment and a destructive desire!

In the direction of the Corruption Swamp, at the core of that pitch-black cloud, the darkness suddenly collapsed and contracted inward! It was as if an invisible giant hand had gripped that darkness tightly! The next second, a thick, viscous, blackish-purple beam of light, large enough to pierce through the heavens and earth, erupted suddenly like a demonic spear thrust out from the depths of hell, carrying terrifying power that could tear everything apart and desecrate everything!

Its appearance was so sudden, so violent! One moment it was deathly black, the next, that stream of destructive light, filled with filth, chaos, and a chilling, devouring will, had already traversed dozens of miles as if teleported, its target—the eastern wall of Deherim! Wherever the beam of light passed, the air emitted a piercing shriek as if forcibly ionized, and space itself seemed to be scorched and distorted! A nauseating, foul-smelling gust of wind, like the simultaneous rotting of billions of corpses, slammed heavily against the wall first!
"Enemy attack—!!!" A shrill, distorted alarm sound instantly rang out from all the city walls!
"Eye of Judgment!" Shen Mu's eyes snapped open! His pupils, throbbing with pain and shock, shrank to almost two burning, cold stars! He could no longer conceal it, nor did he need to! A surge of violent power coursed through his body as his right fist slammed into the cold crenellations, sending coarse stone dust raining down! A roar, like the desperate cry of a wounded lone wolf, pierced the howling wind, carrying a throat-ripping resolve as it hurtled towards the main tower: "Target! Black Cloud Core! Maximum Power! Smash it!!!"

Almost as soon as his roar subsided, the massive, cold metal "eye" atop the main tower of the castle district suddenly lit up! The slowly flowing, eerie blue light on its surface instantly intensified, like boiling lava! Countless mysterious runes were frantically activated, illuminating the entire tower's platform in a ghostly blue light, emitting a deafening energy hum that sounded like the simultaneous roar of hundreds of dragons! Vast amounts of magical power were being frantically drawn, compressed, and focused!
Buzz - boom! ! !

A gigantic beam of energy, colder than moonlight and more dazzling than stars, like the sword of the god of judgment, carrying a sacred aura that purifies all things and a violent power that tears through the void, erupted fiercely from Deherim's chest—the top of the main tower! It tore through the thick darkness of the night with perfect precision, heading straight for the world-destroying, blackish-purple, filthy beam of light!

Time seems to freeze at this moment.

On the city wall, Fatis, Rezarit, Manid and others were ashen-faced, their pupils reflecting the two opposing and irreconcilable destructive energies colliding violently in the night sky east of Deherim with an unstoppable and unavoidable force!

No sound.

Or rather, the sound was completely taken away in that instant.

There was only a pure, all-consuming white light!
Then came the silent annihilation!
An unimaginable energy storm, like a raging torrent from a bursting dam, exploded outwards from the point of impact! A visible ring of destructive shockwave, mixed with blackish-purple filth and eerie blue fragments, swept in all directions like ripples of death, moving at speeds exceeding those of a hurricane! Wherever it passed, the air was completely emptied, creating a brief vacuum!
Rumble, rumble—! ! !
The belated, terrifying roar, as if the entire continental plate was groaning, finally swept in like a tsunami, crashing heavily against the towering walls of Deherim!
Shen Mu was the first to be hit! The violent shockwave was like an invisible hammer, slamming hard into his chest! Even with the power of ash protecting him, he still felt his internal organs shift instantly, and a sweet taste rose in his throat as a hot liquid uncontrollably surged into his mouth!
puff!
A mouthful of scalding blood sprayed onto the cold crenellated bricks, a horrifying sight under the pale moonlight! The city wall beneath their feet shook violently, groaning! The sturdy stone slabs creaked under the weight! Several newly built, weak sections of the eastern city wall, not yet fully integrated with the main structure, were torn apart by the shockwave as if by the claws of a giant beast, large chunks of brick and stone collapsing and crumbling! Smoke and debris shot into the sky!

"My lord!" Fatis and Rezarit's cries were drowned out by the deafening roar and the crashing of the city walls. Braving the fierce winds that could lift a person into the air and the flying debris, they desperately rushed toward Shen Mu, who was swaying and bleeding from the corner of his mouth.

Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring the moonlight and the distant view of the putrid swamp. Only the swirling, purplish-black lightning, seemingly enraged and churning deep within the dark clouds, like the furious eyes of a demon, flickered through the gaps in the smoke and dust, proving that the devastating attack just now was not an illusion.

Shen Mu abruptly raised his hand, forcefully wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. His cold fingertips were stained with warm crimson. He glanced down, then slowly raised his head, gazing at the ominous black cloud churning within. The excruciating pain still burned in his palm, churning within his organs, but his eyes, at this moment, became unusually cold and sharp, like a quenched blade. A chilling, almost insane, yet tinged with icy rage, cold smile slowly crept onto his bloodied lips. In that smile, there was no fear, only the ferocity and resolve of a warrior, utterly enraged.

"Finally...it's here." He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, yet like a poisoned steel nail, it pierced fiercely into this storm of despair filled with smoke and the stench of blood. (End of Chapter)