Half an hour later, Irma and Derek left, bored of standing around. Only the cub and Alea, who couldn’t pass up an opportunity to observe an experienced healer at work, stayed.
Chapter 539
When Hadjar opened his eyes, his first thought was that he had somehow wound up back in the past, back when the beasts had invaded one of the pavilions of ‘The Black Gates’ sect occupied by the Moon army. He found himself on a damp mattress placed atop an uncomfortable cot, surrounded by hundreds of injured people. Some groaned, some called for their parents or lovers, and a few lucky ones were sleeping. Tossing and turning, they were clearly having nightmares about their recent battle. Hadjar understood their pain — he hadn’t been able to sleep well for about a week after his first battle. And after his fight against Sunshine Sankesh, he had twice dreamed that Sankesh had somehow managed to get the elixir of the gods.
But it wasn’t the pained moans or the smell of blood and medicine that made it difficult to stay in the hospital wing. It was the dead. They lay on the topmost bunks, right under the ceiling, and would not be removed until morning. Having to spend the night next to the dead, people who had just recently fought back to back with you, was a truly horrific prospect. That was why most soldiers didn’t like hospitals. Hadjar was no exception. And although he was in a hurry to leave, he decided to check his condition first.
Separating a part of his mind, he plunged into the World River. The state of his energy body was appalling at best, but it was better than when he’d last seen it. Both the channels and nodes no longer looked like a mess, but they still weren’t as neat as they had been. They were connected by rough, inelegant strands of energy, and here and there, one could even see blotches of foreign power on them. Several threads had been tied together and attached to the main channel as a support. The method was crude and very... martial. It was as if the healer had only done it for the sake of sending the soldier into battle again, not caring about their future.
“I’m too used to being pampered,” Hadjar said to himself.
Back when he’d been known as the Mad General, or when he’d been a traveler in the Sea of Sand, he would’ve considered such a treatment a luxury.
He had spent the past month and a half in Dahanatan, the capital of Darnassus and the heart of the martial arts world, as a disciple of its most elite martial arts School, ‘The Holy Sky’. The best cultivators were ‘forged’ there, the people who would become future pillars of Darnassus’ power and glory. Any of the School’s healers would’ve treated him ten... no, twenty times better than this! And Dora’s aunt, the best healer in Darnassus, would’ve had Hadjar back on his feet faster than he could say his own name.
“Really, I’ve become too spoiled.” Hadjar shook his head. Talking to himself often helped him think. “They saved my life. I’ll fix the rest myself.”
His energy body would eventually restore itself. In addition, the dragon meditation Technique he practiced, the ‘Path through the Clouds’, had made his energy body stronger than that of an ordinary cultivator. Not to mention the fact that both his Call and the dragon’s blood coursing through his veins had enhanced his regenerative abilities exponentially. In his current state, Hadjar had only a third of his energy. In just a few days, he would have eighty percent back. And a week later — all of it.
“Well, my fluffy little friend, do you have anything you want to tell me?”
Hadjar lifted the sleeping Azrea by the scruff of her neck. The cub didn’t even open her eyes. Once she was in the air, still sleeping, she began to flail her claws around. She grazed Hadjar’s chest and left shallow scratches on it, demanding that she be put down.
Looking down, Hadjar realized that he was still dressed in his tattered clothes. He hadn’t taken them off since leaving the Valley of Streams. He was overjoyed that he still had them, as he believed that they brought him good luck.
“Don’t think this is the end of our conversation, you sly cat.”
Azrea just yawned, showing rows of small but sharp fangs. Placing the cub back into his shirt, Hadjar threw back the blanket and mentally thanked whoever had placed crutches next to his bed. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. His muscles, devoid of energy as they were, protested as he tried to get up. Grabbing the edge of the bed to avoid falling, Hadjar propped himself up on the crutches with a grunt and hobbled toward the exit.
There were five of them — two on each side and one in the center. He left the medical wing through the central one. He’d seen and been in enough of them during his time in the military, and he would’ve loved nothing more than to never have to visit one again. Hobbling over to the door, he opened it with his shoulder, ignoring the slight pain. He went down a long corridor and came outside. Shivering in the cool northern wind, he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
I never thought, he said to himself as he slowly slid down the wall, that such a short journey could ever be so difficult for a true cultivator.
Sitting on the steps, he retrieved his old, worn-out pipe from his spatial ring. It had been given to him by the girl he’d never been able to love. After all, why would he want to burden a beautiful maiden with a legless cripple? It was odd, but he’d always associated this pipe with victory over the nomads... who’d been led by the Lascanians. Ironically enough, now he was lighting this same pipe while sitting beneath the Lascanian sky. It was filled with stars and looked almost exactly like the one above Darnassus, save for a couple of unknown planets and stars that could be seen on the far edge of the eastern horizon.
As a child, Hadjar had always loved his father and uncle’s stories about the skies above distant countries, and now… Now he was looking at the sky of a truly distant country. Unfortunately, this country was his enemy. Thank the High Heavens that he knew the language and the accent. He’d always had a knack for those.
None of my compatriots ever came this far, Hadjar thought. But I don’t feel like I’ve taken even a single step yet. I wonder what the night sky looks like in the Dragon Lands or in the Land of the Immortals.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
Hadjar neither flinched in surprise nor dropped his pipe. From the moment he’d awoken, he’d felt someone watching him. A young man stepped out of the shadows, his hands resting on the hilts of his daggers. Derek.... That was his name.
“I don’t like hospitals,” Hadjar explained calmly.
“I understand,” Derek said. Hadjar doubted that someone his age could truly understand something like that. “Mind if I join you?” He pointed to the place next to Hadjar.
“Feel free.” Hadjar nodded.
They sat in silence for a while. Derek finally opened his mouth to ask or say something when a girl came running toward them. Hadjar didn’t remember her name, but he remembered her peculiar white hair.
“There... are...” she gasped. “The garrison has asked for volunteers.”
“Volunteers?” Derek asked. “Why does the garrison need volunteers?”
Hadjar removed the pipe from his mouth. He recognized the look in the girl’s eyes...
“Orcs… Orcs are coming!”
...It was primal terror.
Chapter 540
After meeting Dora, Hadjar had decided to fill the gaps in his knowledge about non-human races. By talking to Einen, he had learned about two of them.
The first were the elves, the descendants of the Great Forest, the first forest this world had ever seen. The tree of their ancestor had somehow gotten to Dahanatan, so they’d followed it and settled there.
The other race were the descendants of the First Wolf, the first wolf to ever hunt in this world. According to the legend, the beast had lived in the Great Forest, but for some reason, the elves and orcs didn’t have a good relationship.
The orcs, who had the blood of one of the oldest and most powerful beasts coursing through their veins, liked the vast steppes of the Lascanian borderlands far more than living in forests. Unlike the elves, they didn’t consi
der themselves subjects of the Lascan Empire. On the contrary, they saw the humans who’d come to their lands as conquerors and oppressors, and waged an endless war for their freedom. They did so despite the fact that, according to Einen, the Lascanians had never wanted to remove the orcs, as they served as a buffer between the two Empires. In addition, the orc path of cultivation was useless to humans. All their artifacts, Techniques, and knowledge only applied to very different branches of cultivation.
“But the orcs haven’t attacked Boltoy for a hundred years.” Derek looked dumbfounded. “What do they want?”
“I don’t know,” Irma answered after catching her breath. “The scouts say that an army composed of several orc tribes is on its way here. A hundred thousand of them, maybe more.”
Alea, who had arrived a minute after Irma, put her hand to her mouth, startled.
“A hundred thousand orcs,” she repeated, fascinated. “They’ll raze the fort to the ground! We have to send out requests for reinforcements or for the Legion itself to come here! Derek, write to your father and-”
“My father has no power over the Legion.” The young man shook his head. “Its only mission is to protect the Barony, and it won’t move without orders from its commander, who doesn’t care about anything. He’ll only move if the orcs get close to the capital.”
Hadjar wondered whether the Darnassian scouts had such information. If not, then he might’ve just acquired information that would help them invade the Lascanian side of the border.
While the three friends discussed the orcs, Fort Boltoy gradually came to life: torches and lamps were lit, soldiers climbed the walls, quickly activating their armor, and officers began shouting commands:
“Load the cores!”
“Grease up the inside of the barrels!”
“Keep the powder dry!”
“Power up the fort artifacts!”
The gates opened and the commander of the fort came out to meet his soldiers. He was a solidly built, stocky Lord at the initial stage, weak by the standards of the capital of the Empire, but in this region, he was almost like a divine figure.
Hadjar preferred to stay at a respectful distance from the man, but wasn’t afraid of him. His sluggish aura, unsupported by any Imperial level artifacts, confirmed that there weren’t actually that many elite cultivators in the Empires.
“Commander!” One of the officers saluted.
“What’s the matter?” The Lord asked, displeased. “Why all the fuss?”
“Commander, please read this intelligence report.”
The disgruntled Lord snatched up the scroll that had been handed to him, broke the seal, and unfolded the parchment. As he read, his face paled and his brows furrowed. The commander of Fort Boltoy was perfectly aware of how strong the orcs’ army was. These creatures, who led rather primitive lives, knew neither gunpowder nor normal artifacts. They were strong, but they lived in houses made from sticks and hides, roaming from place to place. However, their nomadic lifestyle made them unparalleled riders. Their children could ride before they could even walk properly. They rode huge Gray Wolves, creatures at the King Stage and higher. Thus, an orc army, even one that wasn’t particularly large, was far more powerful than it might’ve appeared at first glance. Moreover, the body of any adult orc was comparable in strength to an Earth level artifact. Their physical might, even at a level of cultivation equivalent to a human Heaven Soldier, easily exceeded that of an ordinary human mid-stage Spirit Knight. They also wielded spears, axes, and bows with great skill. Many human warriors who had attained the level of Wielder would turn green with envy at their prowess with weapons.
Even twenty thousand of these warriors were already a formidable force that could easily capture Boltoy. But a hundred thousand? The orcs hadn’t formed such an alliance of tribes since time immemorial. Once, they had swarmed like locusts across Lascan, and only the best of the capital’s warriors had been able to stop their advance and force them into a fragile truce.
“Send reports to the Barony and the Duchy,” the Lord said, handing the scroll back to the head of military intelligence with a steady hand. Then he turned to the fort engineers. “Lay down charges in the powder stores. Organize an immediate evacuation of all the civilians.”
“Commander, what are you going to do?”
The Lord’s eyes flashed. Even if the orcs managed to destroy Boltoy’s reputation as an impenetrable fort, most of them would die to accomplish that feat. This ancient fort would be their grave!
“If they break through the gates, we’ll blow up the fort!” The Lord gave the command and, his cloak trailing behind him, went to his soldiers on the wall. If they were all going to meet their end this night, he would go to his forefathers with his soldiers, fighting right alongside them, and face his ancestors with honor!
***
Hadjar, who hadn’t seen any of this, continued smoking, lost in thought. During the couple of years he’d spent on the battlefield, he had seen more battles that any Imperial Lord. But despite all his experience, he couldn’t figure out why the orcs were marching openly across the steppes in such overwhelming numbers.
They should’ve come in groups to a previously agreed upon location and then delivered a swift and powerful blow to Boltoy. But since they hadn’t done so, they probably wouldn’t attack at all. So what was the army for?
As he thought about this, Hadjar recalled a similar situation. One cold winter, when the snowdrifts had been taller than an average man, he and his army had held against a horde of monsters. Greatly outnumbering them, these creatures had rushed across the territory of the Kingdom of Balium and attacked them. However, they hadn’t come with the intent to take anything or fight anyone, they’d just been simple animals fleeing from a threat that had appeared suddenly. Hadjar’s army had just gotten in their way. By the Evening Stars, this situation reminded Hadjar of that terrible ordeal.
“Let’s go to the walls.”
The trio stopped arguing and looked at the stranger in surprise.
“Did the fall scramble something in your head?” Alea asked. “You actually want to fight in the state you’re in?”
“Alea is right,” Irma said. “The evacuation will begin soon. You should leave while you still can.”
Only Derek remained eerily calm. Hadjar shook the ash out of his pipe and put it back in his ring. With a groan, but stubbornly refusing any help, he got up and hobbled to the wall.
“There won’t be a battle,” he said over his shoulder. “The orcs aren’t here to wage war.”
Chapter 541
Hundreds of archers and gunners were already on the wall. Below, at the gates, infantry and cavalry waited in the streets. Looking at them, Hadjar didn’t feel particularly impressed. If he’d still been the Mad General, these warriors, most of whom were at the Transformation of the New Soul stage, would have filled him with awe. Moreover, out of forty thousand of them, approximately two thousand were Heaven Soldiers at the initial and middle stages, and a hundred or so were even at the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level. By the standards of Lidus and the Sea of Sand, such an army was monstrously strong. Two thousand Heaven Soldiers led by a Lord! Such a force could’ve easily conquered the Sea of Sand and all the barbarian kingdoms of the northeastern regions of Darnassus!
However, after his time at ‘The Holy Sky’ School, Hadjar had changed his opinion on cultivation levels. None of these warriors could pass the outer circle disciple entrance exam. The School had about thirty thousand such disciples, which would be enough to destroy Boltoy as easily as a child destroyed a sand castle. Then other schools and even the most prominent Schools would get involved.
And then things would inevitably escalate even further and a war would erupt between the two Empires. And such a war would have only one possible outcome — mutually assured destruction, as their forces were equal in strength. That was why the Empires allowed weak cultivators to fight and die, to ensure that the strong cultivators could become even stronger.
If the scales ever tipped one way or another, a real war would break out.
“Who are you?”
One of the warriors pushed the hilt of his sword against Hadjar’s chest. He was a young man, a Heaven Soldier, and not even a Wielder yet. Hadjar wouldn’t have had to even draw his sword to defeat him. Everything around Hadjar was the Sword, and after mastering the Weapon’s Heart, even his will was a sharp blade, and he could send this poor man to his forefathers with a single swing of it.
“Open your eyes!” Derek shouted. “Can’t you see who has come to your aid?”
Only then did the man notice the tokens of their school.
“Honored inner circle disciples!” He saluted and immediately withdrew his sword, letting them climb up to the wall. As soon as they were on the parapet, the warrior ran to inform his senior officer.
“Three inner circle disciples of the ‘Red Mule’ school have come to aid us! Each of them is worth a dozen ordinary Heaven Soldiers!”
Up on the wall, Hadjar leaned wearily against the high battlements. He took out his pipe again and lit it. He gazed at the steppes that merged with the horizon in the distance, lost in his memories. How many years had passed since he’d last stood on a wall and waited for a battle to commence? After travelling through the Sea of Sand, he had forgotten all about his fame as the Mad General and the time he’d spent on the seemingly endless battlefields, back when he’d never known which of his comrades that had stood next to him mere hours ago would be burned on the funeral pyre that same evening. Sometimes, he missed that life. It had been tough, bloody, reeking of pain and sweat, but at the same time, it had been simple as well. It was easy to fight when you had an enemy determined to take your land and life.
“Honorable disciples!” A senior officer, a pretty woman at the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level, saluted and bowed. “Are you the trio that was sent to us by the ‘Red Mule’ school?”
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 3
