Cowardice

Was Hoffman's hand severed around this time? Anbaixiu searched his memory, only to realize he couldn't be sure. He wasn't familiar with Hoffman anyway. He had only met him a few times through the vampire Heji Stone acting as an intermediary, and then Hoffman had been killed. Right now, Anbaixiu couldn't very well consult Heji Stone on the Necrotic Codex either; otherwise, two Ultraman Tigas would show up on the Codex, which might lead to irreversible and catastrophic consequences. Whatever, the question wasn't important. All Anbaixiu wanted now was to help the Dwarf Kingdom resolve the crisis of Sweetdew City's fall, after which he could bow out gracefully. After returning to Sweetdew City with the surviving dwarf legends, Anbaixiu received the warmest of welcomes. Not only did they provide top-tier hospitality with fine food and drink, but they also sent over several beauties of various races. Anbaixiu naturally adopted an attitude of "women hold no sway over me," publicly professing to be an ascetic who never indulged in fine delicacies or feminine charms. "If you truly wish to thank me, please give me some gold coins. I will use the money to build a temple for my deity and spread His teachings." Hearing Anbaixiu's words, Hoffman, whose severed wrist had just been bandaged, asked curiously, "Might I ask which deity you worship?" "The God of Alchemy!" Anbaixiu proclaimed sonorously, his voice laden with reverence. Hoffman's expression turned odd. A follower of the God of Alchemy being a dragon knight... could those two things even remotely connect? And Anbaixiu's very next sentence scared Hoffman dumb. "I know it seems strange to you, but in truth, I am a golem puppet that has awakened self-awareness. Praise be to the God of Alchemy; my very existence is His miracle." Anbaixiu lifted the mithral mask from his face, revealing the intricate mechanical components packed beneath. A look of shock spread across Hoffman's face. A golem puppet with self-awareness? He didn't believe it. He began to suspect someone nearby was controlling this golem puppet. But if that person chose not to show themselves, Hoffman didn't dare flush them out by force either. After all, this golem puppet had just helped them repel the Ryan forces, and what was more, the dragon he rode was anything but ordinary. Hoffman did not recognize a time dragon. Time dragons were exceptionally rare to begin with. Over a thousand years after the dragon race had withdrawn from the continent, most people couldn't even recognize all the chromatic dragons, let alone have heard the name of a time dragon. Hoffman only knew that Anbaixiu's dragon was terrifyingly formidable, having crippled a paladin with a single breath attack. With one intending to please and the other bent on cooperation, their conversation naturally proceeded with great pleasantness. From Hoffman, Anbaixiu learned that the Dwarf Kingdom had suffered defeat after defeat and had already lost numerous cities. Sweetdew City had not originally been on the front lines; however, the Ryan forces knew the strategic importance of its location, so they had paid an exorbitant price to carry out an outflanking raid. Their initial intention was to seize Sweetdew City within a single day, plunging the Dwarf Kingdom into an even more passive position. However, word leaked out, and the Dwarf Kingdom immediately dispatched heavy forces to intercept, hoping to concentrate substantial high-end combat strength to teach Ryan a severe lesson. Over a dozen legends were recalled from the front lines, fully prepared to spring an ambush. In the end, the ambush succeeded, but the Ryan army's strength far exceeded their expectations. The original plan had been to lay a magical trap along Ryan's advance route. Not only could this trap inflict devastating damage, but it could also suppress the power of the Holy Light. The Ryan troops had indeed fallen into the trap. Yet no one anticipated that the moment the magical trap activated, the Silvermoon Knight swung his sword, cleaving the entire magic circle in two. The sneak attack turned into a head-on clash, and the dozen or so legends of the Dwarf Kingdom ended up being thoroughly pummeled by the Ryan forces. If Anbaixiu hadn't intervened in the nick of time, Sweetdew City would have already been taken by Ryan. Hoffman was the commander of this theater of war. At this point in time, he was merely one of the Dwarf Kingdom's legends, not yet the Hand of the King who stood second only to the monarch. Anbaixiu said to Hoffman, "The Ryan army won't give up just like that. I estimate that by nightfall at the latest, they will launch a second assault." "Ah? Then what should we do?" Hoffman turned pale, looking thoroughly frightened. Anbaixiu could sense his emotions. This wasn't feigned fear; he was truly trembling. Could this fellow have had the courage scared completely out of him by the Silvermoon Knight's sword strike? How on earth did he ever become Hand of the King? Though bewildered, Anbaixiu didn't want to waste time. He simply asked Hoffman, "I can help, but relying on me alone won't be enough. How many usable hands do we still have in the city?" Calming down slightly, Hoffman replied, "There are fewer than twenty thousand garrison troops. Sweetdew City's defensive magic circle has fallen into disrepair from years of neglect and can no longer function properly. Only a handful of magitech cannons atop the ramparts are still usable." "The Dwarf Kingdom is so wealthy, so how could it fall into disrepair? Haven't you been at war with Ryan for years?" Anbaixiu asked in surprise. Friction between Ryan and the Dwarf Kingdom could be said to have begun the year the Silvermoon Knight was born, though it hadn't been waged so fiercely before. How could a nation constantly embroiled in war fail to even maintain a city's defensive magic circle? Hoffman sighed. "You probably know that the Golden Country operates under a racial autonomy policy, where every race enjoys a high degree of autonomy. Sweetdew City's castellan was a lizardman..." According to Hoffman's account, Sweetdew City's castellan had absconded with the funds several years ago, making off with most of the city's wealth. No one knew where he fled. Only later, when the books were audited, did they discover that all of Sweetdew City's tax revenue over the years had lined his personal pockets. Not only had the city's magic circle gone unmaintained, but even the soldiers' military pay had been embezzled. Perhaps out of despair over the war, the castellan had made such a drastic decision. Hoffman had taken over this war zone and transferred new garrison troops from other cities, but because of the massive deficit, Sweetdew City's defenses were the weakest among all the surrounding cities. Yet Sweetdew City happened to occupy a critical location—a transit hub, a city of immense strategic value. Precisely because of this, the Ryan forces, upon catching wind of it, opted for an outflanking sneak attack, only to have the misfortune of running into Anbaixiu. "So relying on Sweetdew City itself is out of the question," Anbaixiu said resignedly. Hoffman felt deeply embarrassed as well. The previous magical trap had been the Dwarf Kingdom's trump card, yet the moment it was played, the enemy ripped right through it. Now Hoffman possessed not an ounce of confidence. That dazzling sword strike had severed not only his arm, but also his will as a legendary monk. "In that case, we can't just sit and defend the city. We have to take the initiative and attack," Anbaixiu said. "Take the initiative? But..." The mere thought of facing the Silvermoon Knight again made Hoffman's legs turn to jelly. They had barely managed to force those Ryan soldiers to retreat, and now they were going to pursue them voluntarily? Wouldn't that be courting death? "But what? Do you want to wait until that old bastard the Silvermoon Knight recovers his strength and swings his sword again? Right now is when he's at his most exhausted and vulnerable. Even if we don't launch a full-scale counterattack, we have to harass them relentlessly. Under no circumstances can we let him rest peacefully." Anbaixiu knew full well that his biggest problem was this old man. If they didn't kick him while he was down, then when he returned, they would have no choice but to expend lives just to drain his stamina. Seeing through Hoffman's cowardice at a glance, Anbaixiu lowered his voice. "Your Excellency is the commander of this theater, so naturally you must hold down Sweetdew City and not take rash risks. Therefore, you only need to dispatch troops. Have one or two legends skilled in stealth and concealment lead the way, spend some money to hire rogues and thieves within the city, and once they locate the Ryan camp, stir up trouble. "Poison their supplies, shoot concealed arrows, or sneak into their camp to set fires. There's no need to face them head-on; just deny them any chance of rest. Only then will we have an opportunity." Anbaixiu knew little about military affairs, but he was far calmer than Hoffman. The advice might not achieve that much, but the phrase "hold down Sweetdew City" resonated deeply with Hoffman. That was right—he belonged in the rear, holding down the fort. With both sides agreeing on this premise, the subsequent arrangements were no trouble. Given that Hoffman had been appointed theater commander, his military competence certainly surpassed Anbaixiu's. Anbaixiu had merely tossed out a few harassment methods without any specifics. With Hoffman handling the arrangements, he could meticulously assign the personnel needed for the raiding parties and formulate detailed harassment tactics. As Hoffman busied himself, Anbaixiu didn't stay idle either. While Sweetdew City's defensive magic circle could no longer be fully restored, that didn't mean it was completely useless. Anbaixiu wanted to study it; perhaps it could produce miraculous effects at a critical juncture. On a stretch of gravel desert roughly thirty kilometers outside Sweetdew City, a ten-thousand-strong Ryan army had set up camp. Crude tents were pitched. Drawing water and rations from magical pouches, the Ryan soldiers washed down their dry provisions with cold water. Because it was a sudden raid, this force had brought hardly any logistics personnel, so they had to make do when it came to meals. They had originally planned to eat inside Sweetdew City after capturing it, never expecting a dragon knight to burst out of nowhere and throw the entire plan into disarray. The Silvermoon Knight coughed as he patrolled the encampment, young and naive Alan following closely behind him like a knight's squire. Alan had had no qualification to participate in the earlier battle of legends; in fact, he hadn't even taken part in most of the siege, for he was merely a servant in the army who could only await the Silvermoon Knight's return at camp. The moment the Silvermoon Knight returned, he had immediately ordered the army to seize every minute to rest, clearly preparing for a second assault. Yet Alan couldn't understand why the Silvermoon Knight, clearly exhausted, refused to go back and rest, insisting instead on patrolling the camp himself. Couldn't such trivial duties be delegated to subordinates? His footsteps were already faltering. "General Wright, why don't I help you back so you can rest?" Alan couldn't help but say. The Silvermoon Knight shook his head. "Not just yet." "But your health... patrolling can easily be left to others," Alan insisted. The Silvermoon Knight coughed twice and explained, "We just lost a battle. A surprise attack has turned into a frontal assault. I must see for myself whether they are still willing to take the field. If their morale is lacking, sending them to attack again would just be marching them to their deaths. Leading an army isn't merely charging ahead on your own; you must understand your soldiers." Alan said in confusion, "General, how could any soldier fear going into battle? We are soldiers of Ryan; bathed in the Holy Light, we know no fear." Yet no sooner had Alan spoken than the sound of an argument drifted over from not far away. The Silvermoon Knight quickened his pace, leading Alan over, and found a wounded soldier with a severed leg angrily pointing at another soldier and railing at him. The wounded soldier barked furiously, "Coward! It was my leg that got blown off! What are you so afraid of?!" The soldier being berated looked about seventeen or eighteen, still a tender youth. In a weak, trembling voice, he replied, "Brother, but I'm scared... What if that magitech cannon hits me next time?"