Chapter Fifty-Eight: The First Encounter

Wall did not expect that Luther’s prediction would come true with Adolf’s very first words—they had been made the vanguard.

“But…” Wall began, but Adolf waved him off.

“I know you’re concerned about your numbers, but you’re well equipped. As the vanguard, you can inflict heavier losses on the enemy. Don’t worry—once today’s battle is over, you’ll move to the rear. Every tribe will take turns at the front, even our own Star Moon Tribe is not exempt.”

Though Adolf spoke calmly, his tone brooked no argument. Wall had nothing more to say, for the other man held the moral high ground.

So, the Silver Moon Tribe became the vanguard of the entire force.

Returning to the camp at noon, Wall announced the news to everyone.

On hearing the bad tidings, the Silver Moon Tribe erupted in an uproar, and Luther shot a furious glare at Sun Licheng.

“All right, the army has issued its orders: anyone who retreats without permission will be executed! Let’s stop wasting time and prepare.”

Wall’s shout quickly silenced the commotion, and the Silver Moon Tribe began their final preparations.

Sun Licheng suspected he was somehow involved, but he could neither ask nor reveal it. So, he quietly helped the tribe’s warriors check their equipment and weapons, offering encouragement.

“Sun Licheng, don’t overthink it. Us being vanguard has nothing to do with you. All the tribes have their turn.”

Fearing Sun Licheng might dwell on it, Wall approached to reassure him.

Sun Licheng did not linger on the subject, instead changing the topic, “I want to find a spot with a good view of the battlefield. Do you know where would be suitable?”

“About three hundred paces to the east, there’s a small hill. Its position is excellent for observing the whole field, and you won’t get caught up in the fighting,” Wall replied.

That night, moonlight poured like water, with two moons and a host of stars making the night sky dazzling. The Wolf King lay sprawled on the ground; Sun Licheng rested his head on its belly, gazing at the heavens, a small wooden stick between his teeth.

“We’ll soon be fighting. I’m pretty nervous. Let’s hope tomorrow brings good weather.”

He murmured to himself, then closed his eyes and slept deeply.

Early the next morning, the goblins rose before dawn, ate breakfast quietly, lined up by tribe, and began assembling at the front of the camp.

After roll call, Adolf gave a sweeping gesture, and the goblin warriors marched out in neat blocks, heading slowly for the Yunshan Pass.

Around them, nearly a hundred deer-mounted cavalry darted back and forth, relaying messages.

Soon, they reached the flat plain at the mountain pass. A low blast of horns signaled the halt; the goblin warriors stopped in place.

The morning mist still lingered, shrouding everything in haze, but everyone gripped their weapons tightly.

By now, Sun Licheng had ridden the Wolf King up the small hill, where he could take in the whole battlefield. He had barely begun to marvel at the massive goblin army when he heard the beat of war drums from the other side.

Soon after, the sound of movement signaled the arrival of the opposing force—a dense mass of shadowy figures appeared: the goblin army.

What shocked Sun Licheng most was the presence of many tall figures among the goblins, even taller than bear goblins. What were these creatures?

As the mist finally cleared from the valley, Sun Licheng realized these were enormous monsters. Some had a single eye, others two heads, almost naked except for rough leather skirts at their waists and a large sack slung at their sides. Their weapons were all massive clubs studded with protrusions, making them look fearsome.

Sun Licheng thought a moment, then named them—ogres.

“Why are there so many ogres in the goblin forces?” he wondered.

Suddenly, singing roused Sun Licheng’s attention. He saw several goblin shamans dancing at the head of the army as the goblins began to sing—their war dance had begun.

As the song rang out and the goblins danced, the formations shimmered with light, as if curtains of brilliance had risen. Morale soared, and many bear goblins appeared within the ranks.

At the very front, in the Silver Moon Tribe’s formation, Wall had already transformed into a bear goblin. He wore a specially crafted suit of armor, protecting him completely; under the sunlight, the bronze plates shone like gold, making him appear almost godlike.

“Roar…”

Wall swung his massive axe and let out a bear-like howl; his warriors responded with loud shouts.

“Morale is strong!” Sun Licheng’s eyes gleamed. As an ordinary man from peaceful times, he was unfamiliar with war—and even more so with ancient warfare. Now, witnessing thousands on each side, he realized this world’s conflicts far surpassed his imagination. This wasn’t the mindless brawling of movies, TV, or novels, but the clash of tightly organized armies.

“Let’s hope Wall and his men survive a while longer,” Sun Licheng sighed.

On a high slope behind the goblin army, Star Moon Tribe’s chief Adolf watched the battlefield. At the foot of the hill, deer cavalry galloped over, reporting the unfolding battle.

“Father, that man is the Silver Moon Tribe’s guest, Sun Licheng. He can train giant wolves, and he has a puppet dog.”

Martin, at his side, pointed out Sun Licheng.

“What a magnificent wolf! Far more formidable than our deer. That fellow must be quite capable,” Adolf remarked.

“He’s very impressive, which is why I want him. Too bad the Silver Moon Tribe shields him; otherwise, hmph…” Martin snorted.

“Don’t touch him yet. Let’s finish the battle first. Remember, the Silver Moon Tribe is crucial now—we can’t disrupt our own ranks. Know what matters most.” Adolf’s lips curled into a sly smile as he patted his son’s shoulder.

“Understood, Father. I’ll put the greater good first,” Martin bowed his head in acquiescence.

Just then, melodious horns sounded from the goblin ranks, followed by a crashing roar as the goblins began their attack.

Adolf, about to say more to Martin, composed himself and ordered the messenger, “Beat the drums! Attack!”

With thunderous drumming, horns blared from the goblin formations as the army advanced.

Both sides were silent before the battle; all marched quietly, the only sounds were heavy breathing and feet pounding earth.

Soon, the vanguards were only fifty meters apart. At this point, the ranged assault began.

With shrill whistling, a barrage of stones flew from the goblin ranks, crashing into the goblin army. It turned out the ogres’ sacks were filled with stones—the goblin army’s ranged weapon.

Cries of pain echoed as goblins fell, but their comrades quickly moved around them, the formation barely wavering.

Soon, at forty meters, arrows streamed from the goblin army, targeting the goblins. In retaliation, countless arrows flew from the goblin ranks.

“Hold steady, raise shields, keep the formation intact!” Wall shouted, swinging his giant axe. Silver Moon Tribe warriors raised their shields.

At that moment, a stone the size of two fists flew over, striking a goblin’s shoulder with a scream; he tumbled to the ground.

Luther was now extremely anxious, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on his fallen comrade, terror overwhelming him. He wanted to flee, but seeing Wall’s shining axe, he hesitated. Gritting his teeth, he gripped his sword and pressed on.

When the two sides were less than thirty meters apart, they halted, only their ranged fighters continuing to shower the enemy with fire.

Through the small holes in his visor, Luther could see the slobbering mouths on the enemy’s ugly faces. Around him, the coarse breathing of his comrades filled his ears. The intense tension sent adrenaline surging through him, making him feel almost numb.

Suddenly, Wall shouted, and the battle drums thundered. Nearly a hundred bronze javelins shot from the Silver Moon Tribe formation, piercing into the goblin ranks.

“Charge!”

With shrieks, the front rows of goblins collapsed. Wall swung his axe and led the charge.

A second later, the goblins responded, hurling their own javelins and rushing forward with weapons raised.

The two armies crashed together like black waves, the clash deafening, blood spraying, screams piercing the air—the battle had begun.

Led by bear-goblin Wall, the fully armed Silver Moon Tribe cut through the goblin lines like a sharp blade, enemies falling beneath their feet.

Against the composite armor made of vines and bronze plates, the goblins’ crude weapons were useless; several charges were repelled by Wall and his warriors.

Just as Wall rejoiced, a massive roar heralded the arrival of a towering ogre, over two heads taller than Wall.

A shadow flashed as the ogre swung its huge club. Wall, too slow to dodge, could only raise his shield to meet the blow.

With a deafening crash, the bronze-inlaid shield was smashed to pieces, and Wall staggered back in agony.

The ogre, pleased with its success, prepared to strike again, but Wall shouted, “Change formation!”

At once, the Silver Moon Tribe warriors spread out, surrounding the ogre.

Before the ogre could react, more than a dozen bronze javelins flew at it. These were not stone-tipped but bronze, sharp and barbed—once lodged, they could not be pulled out.

The ogre had not expected such an assault; after a series of screams, it was pierced like a hedgehog, effectively neutralized.

Wall rushed forward, raised his axe, and brought it down hard on the ogre’s neck. With a crunch, its massive head rolled away, and a torrent of blood sprayed skyward.