In the direction of the State of Ji, the greatest threat came not from ordinary soldiers, but from the Dao soldiers.
Wei Yuan had asked around, but no one knew the origins of the grey-robed Dao soldiers, leaving him with no way to determine their true properties. However, judging from their performance in actual combat, both Xuanyue and Daoist Zhidan believed they were precious treasures created by the mortal path for waging war, and certainly could not have come cheap. In terms of crafting costs, a single Dao soldier had to be worth at least a dozen heavily armored Qingming elites.
Meanwhile, the northern Mountain Folk continued to emerge in an unending stream. Five million had already been spotted within detection range, and they would soon close in on the frontier defense line Wei Yuan had established.
After pondering the matter at length, Wei Yuan finally made up his mind. He began redeploying his forces: all five hundred thousand elites would march north to strike at the Mountain Folk!
Along the defense line facing the State of Ji, Wei Yuan left behind only one hundred and fifty thousand garrison troops and a reserve force of fifty thousand. He then dispersed his heavy artillery and placed them under heavy guard. This way, they would at least avoid being wiped out in one fell swoop by Dao soldiers dropped from the sky by an immortal, as had happened in their first battle.
Wei Yuan also ordered continuous missile strikes against the Ji army's rear granaries, storehouses, and supply convoys, doing everything possible to delay their next general offensive.
Then, Wei Yuan personally led the cultivators of the Palace of Grand Beginning, mobilizing in full force to march north.
The northwestern border of the State of Ji.
This was a region of low, rolling hills. Fortifications had already been constructed atop many high points, forming the newly established northern defense line.
Built primarily to defend against the Mountain Folk, this defense line was not a continuous wall, but rather a network of small fortresses situated so their fields of fire could overlap and support one another.
It was early morning, and a thin morning mist drifted between the hills. Soldiers in the watchtowers kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings. They had already received military intelligence reporting that the Mountain Folk army had penetrated deep into the region and was very likely to reach the defense line today.
In one watchtower, a young sentry stared out at the unnervingly quiet morning mist. His Adam's apple bobbed as an inexplicable shudder ran down his spine.
The Dao Foundation captain, who had been scanning another direction, noticed the young sentry's unease. He walked over, clapped him on the shoulder, and asked, "What did you spot?"
The young sentry grew paler. "The mist... isn't moving..."
The Dao Foundation captain's pupils contracted sharply. Looking ahead, he saw that the mist hanging over the hills was eerily, unnaturally still!
"Mountain Folk! Sound the bell!"
The young sentry scrambled toward the alarm bell, but several sharp arrows were already whistling out of the mist. The Dao Foundation captain fought desperately to intercept them, but in the end, three arrows punched straight through his chest. Thanks to the split second bought by the captain's life, the young sentry finally struck the alarm bell.
The tolling of the bell resonated throughout the entire encampment. Every resting soldier leapt from his bunk, dashed to the armory for weapons and ammunition, and rushed to their defensive positions.
Explosions suddenly tore through the morning mist, sending several Mountain Folk flying. The blasts grew denser and denser as a massive horde of short Mountain Folk trampled the minefield flat with their flesh and blood, charging straight through!
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
A barrage of dull, heavy thuds rang out as three rotary machine cannons opened fire, cutting down the charging Mountain Folk from different angles.
Rotary machine cannons were now widespread throughout the Qingming Army, and there was no longer any shortage of late-stage Dao Foundation gunners. A small fortress manned by several hundred soldiers was equipped with three rotary machine cannons.
At the same time, the fortress's infantry guns began to roar, continuously slamming shells into the morning mist. With all soldiers now in position, the intensity of their firepower surged, mowing down the Mountain Folk in swathes!
However, the ordinary Mountain Folk stood only four chi tall and were exceptionally agile, leaping about like a pack of darting monkeys. In the blink of an eye, they crossed the zone of suppressing fire, rushed into the fortress, and broke inside the structures. Some Mountain Folk even wriggled inside through the embrasures.
Fierce fighting erupted instantly in every corner of the base.
The Qingming soldiers were equipped with standard-issue plate cuirasses and met close combat with shotguns and pistols. The Mountain Folk's daggers and short blades could not pierce their armor at all.
Yet the Mountain Folk's weapons were coated in lethal venom; even a scratch on the skin would cause an entire arm or leg to swell rapidly, rendering the soldier incapacitated. The Mountain Folk had also come prepared with specific countermeasures: many of their warriors carried powerful hand-crossbows or blunt weapons like flanged maces.
As the horde of short Mountain Folk swarmed over the fortress, two colossal silhouettes emerged from the morning mist. Only as they stepped out of the fog did the ground begin to shake.
Two mountain giants charged before the fortress. One hurled his body forward, crashing down the watchtower, while the other swung a massive hammer weighing over ten thousand jin and brought it down heavily upon a forward bunker. The bunker was instantly pulverized, crushing the soldiers and Mountain Folk inside into mincemeat!
The pitched battle raged for a full hour before the battlefield gradually quieted down. The two mountain giants, bearing numerous fresh wounds, sat panting atop the roof of a bunker while several short Mountain Folk clambered over them to tend their injuries.
Each of the two giants held the corpse of a Qingming soldier, gnawing on them as they exchanged low, muffled grunts.
The Mountain Folk dragged out the corpses, stacking the humans in one pile and their own dead in another. They rummaged through the fortress for all manner of weapons, equipment, and daily necessities. Nearly everything that could be carried off was collected, carefully wrapped, sealed, and sent to the rear.
Several Mountain Folk in distinctive clothing held various tools, measuring and sketching throughout the fortress. They had their own system of measurement and specialized instruments, drafting maps and diagrams quickly and skillfully with a precision that was chilling to behold.
Dozens of surviving captives were marched toward the rear, disappearing into the morning mist without a trace.
Countless more Mountain Folk continued to pour out of the mist, pausing briefly at the fortress. A short while later, several Mountain Folk dressed in noticeably ornate attire emerged from the fog, strolling around the fortress to inspect it.
By now, all the equipment and implements had been dismantled, so the Mountain Folk began taking apart the structures. They dismantled them with extraordinary care, sawing sections from the walls, meticulously documenting the structural profile and material composition, taking samples of every material with detailed labels, and packing them into categorized crates to be transported to the rear.
Right as the Mountain Folk were hard at work, one of the ornately dressed Mountain Folk suddenly looked up into the sky, panic flickering in his eyes. A black speck appeared in midair at incredible speed, hurtling toward the fortress!
The noble Mountain Folk reacted swiftly, conjuring a stone projectile in midair that collided directly with the incoming artillery shell!
Boom! The tremendous blast startled all the Mountain Folk, and the shockwave kicked up a gale across the ground. But in the next instant, countless more shells rained down. The Mountain Folk noble struggled desperately to intercept them, but could only watch in despair as shell after shell plunged downward.
With a furious roar, he seized the crate packed with material samples, hurled it into the morning mist, and was immediately engulfed as artillery fire carpeted the entire fortress, turning it into a sea of flames.
Twenty li away, dozens of armored trucks had deployed their stabilizing jacks. The large-caliber heavy guns mounted on them roared incessantly, raining a continuous bombardment down on the fallen fortress. Wei Yuan stood in midair, his eyes like lightning. His divine sense spanned a radius of a hundred li, continuously guiding the shells and correcting their impact points, blowing the Mountain Folk into disarray.
However, the morning mist clearly hindered divine sense. Wei Yuan could only probe roughly a li deep into it; anything further was obscured.
The barrage lasted a full quarter of an hour. After being cleansed by several thousand artillery shells, the area around the fortress was devoid of all life, falling completely silent. The Mountain Folk had all fled into the depths of the morning mist. Only then did Wei Yuan wave his hand, sending large numbers of cuirassier infantry marching up the hill to recapture the fortress while using military qi to disperse the dense fog.
The heavy artillery trucks then retracted their jacks, and the army pushed forward toward the next fallen fortress.
On the map in Wei Yuan's mind, four fortresses had fallen so far. Strung out in a straight line spanning over a hundred li, they marked the front of the Mountain Folk's offensive along this route.
And now, a surging torrent of steel charged straight toward the center of the Mountain Folk's battle line, poised to slice their army in two.
Chapter 1063