Chapter 48: The Battle Plan for Deadwood Mountain
Eve Frostleaf angrily stomped away, disappearing in just a few steps.
Jima looked at Eve Frostleaf’s figure and said, “Long legs really do move fast.”
“Jima! Watch your words.”
“Huh?” Jima replied, “Is she a love child?”
“She should be, like me,” George said, glancing at Jima, hesitating to say more, feeling that any further words would be useless. He stood up and walked in the direction Eve Frostleaf had left.
“Darn it, I accidentally gave that guy George another chance to be alone with a beauty.” Jima yawned, “Eve Frostleaf’s reaction was really intense just now. Could she be the biological daughter of the elven queen? Hmm, very likely.”
Eve’s surname “Frostleaf” sounds completely made up. It suggests that, for some reason, Eve Frostleaf could not inherit her surname from her parents. But her treatment seems quite good; she does not appear to be a bullied love child. More importantly, she has emphasized that she has no blood relation to the elven queen.
Elves really do have a knack for telling lies with their eyes wide open. Even though the entire court knows that Eve Frostleaf is the elven queen’s love child, they cannot say it openly.
I accidentally stepped on a landmine again. Forget it, I’m too lazy to chase after those long silver legs. You want to undermine a saintess? It’s really troublesome.
In the hall, only Jima was left. She conjured up a cotton-like pillow, patted it, and placed it on the sofa. Lying down with her head resting on it, she felt something was missing and called out, “Lily!”
“Meow~.”
An orange cat peered out from under the sofa and jumped onto it.
Jima grabbed Lianxi the cat, rubbed its neck, and the cat began purring, curling up. Jima placed the furry ball next to her ear and closed her eyes, falling asleep.
Meanwhile, near the courtyard.
George was in a long corridor, and ahead was a courtyard filled with lush green trees. From behind a large tree, he spotted a silvery elven silhouette. It seemed she sensed his footsteps from afar and raised a hand to wipe her face.
“Frostleaf.” George quickened his pace, calling her name.
Eve Frostleaf turned around, the tips of her pointed ears twitching slightly. Her emerald eyes showed no hint of change, maintaining a proud expression as always.
“I’m sorry for Jima,” George said, “I know she upset you.”
“She’s the type who feels unhappy when others are not angry,” Eve Frostleaf replied indifferently. “It’s nothing; she just irritated me for a moment. I’ve come to terms with it. It’s really no big deal.”
“But I thought I saw you wiping away tears just now.”
“You saw wrong,” Eve Frostleaf said. “If you intended to comfort me, you’re going to be disappointed. I’m not a weepy little girl. I’ve long outgrown that age.”
“Alright,” George said. “Let’s continue discussing how to deal with the enemy.”
“Mhm.”
For some reason, George felt he had seen a flicker of disappointment in Eve Frostleaf’s eyes.
The two walked together but at a distance that was neither close nor far, like ordinary friends.
“We still need to make sure Jima doesn’t spread this matter around.”
Eve Frostleaf’s long ears perked up as she asked, “What matter? That I was upset by a one-and-a-half-year-old girl? Or that Jima can be quite venomous with her words?”
“Your secret,” George said. “The secret that you are the daughter of the elven queen.”
“No, I’m an orphan, with no parents. I was picked up by the passing elven queen in the woods, and after growing up, I was conveniently incorporated into Avalon’s sisters to defend the court.”
George looked at Eve Frostleaf in surprise. “I’ve seen the elven queen’s champion knight before. He looked at me unfavorably and even wanted to fight me with his sharp sword. I thought you two were father and daughter.”
“No, he’s just a womanizer who enjoys riding donkeys,” Eve Frostleaf replied. “He was merely once my teacher and regards me as his goddaughter.”
“Oh, I see.” George did not doubt her. “I’ll talk to Jima later and ask her not to spread rumors.”
Eve Frostleaf remained silent.
Noticing Eve Frostleaf’s silence, George felt as though he had imposed a difficult backstory onto her, making her quite unhappy.
He couldn’t help but feel guilt. The sanctuary believes that many rumors are created by capturing wind and shadow, and are, in essence, a result of a lack of honest communication. George was educated in this way and wholeheartedly agreed.
“I’m sorry. I really should have asked you properly. Thank you for comforting me in my hometown last time. I thought you were a love child like me.”
Eve Frostleaf lightly uttered a single word, “No.”
Suddenly, she stopped walking and looked at George:
“I, like you, am a love child. I can’t call my blood-related parents ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’. When everyone asks about me, I must repeatedly lie, saying I was picked up in the woods, and that I have no relationship with Her Majesty the Queen.”
As she spoke, the ice on her face cracked, melting away in an instant, and her emerald eyes became red.
George immediately embraced her, and in his arms, she said, “I don’t want to lie to others anymore, not even to one person, just one person is fine.”
…
…
Jima lay on the cloud pillow, her black hair spilling over the white pillow.
Dreaming in the palace of dreams was a rare yet typical experience. Rare because few people did it, and typical because the experience was just like ordinary sleep.
In her dream, Jima saw several big bad guys mocking and bullying her, which made her quite angry. She lifted her pure white feet and kicked hard.
One of the bad guys grabbed her foot. How dare he hold onto her ankle! Without saying a word, Jima kicked again, but was caught once more.
“Jima, Jima, wake up.”
“Die, bad people!”
The bad guy exerted force, lifting both of her legs and causing Jima to float up. A cat’s meow came from nearby.
Jima groggily opened her eyes to see George holding her ankle and shaking it.
Jima, still groggy, complained, “I’m awake, bad guy.”
George gently set her down on the sofa. Jima sat up, slipped on her flip-flops, and checked the time; she had been asleep for almost an hour.
Enough time for a fun time for both men and women.
Looking back at George, she noticed his combat gear was a little damp. Jima quickly shook her head and glanced at Eve Frostleaf, who was sitting on a black bench, still as frosty as ever, showing no signs of having flushed from exercise. Jima couldn’t help but wonder if this elf was born with a poker face.
Fortunately, George, that scoundrel, was still fundamentally a timid virgin without the guts. If they were to have a good time together, I would certainly ambush them, scaring George into impotence. Hmph, since I can’t pursue him, neither can you.
George waved a hand in front of Jima, extending a finger and asking, “How many is this?”
“One,” Jima replied, “Why do you like to do this like Jenna?”
“This is a questioning process to determine if the other party has regained their sanity or intellect.”
Jima stood up and threw some dirty water, saying, “Are you implying that I looked really dumb just now?”
George nodded, “A bit.”
Jima hugged the cat and kicked him lightly as she walked past, sitting beside Eve Frostleaf, while George sat across from them.
He was just about to speak, “Next—”
Jima interjected, “Let’s discuss how to conquer Deadwood Mountain. The army will likely reach Deadwood Mountain by tomorrow afternoon, where there is a village with nearly two hundred beastmen and a beastman shaman.”
“What do you need to level up?”
“It should be with the beastman shaman,” Jima said, “What exactly, I’m not sure yet; I’ll need to check the loot bit by bit.”
“A shaman? Our intelligence is really outdated. Just a few days ago, we thought Deadwood Mountain was still some distance from the war zone.”
“How long will it take for you to get there?” Jima asked. “I have some unfortunate news. I entered the dream of the lead beastman and discovered they are all a group. Seven days ago, the lead beastman team was ordered to Deadwood Mountain.”
“Whose order?”
“Mother of All Beasts.”
“Her again,” George said. “So if we continue to assault Deadwood Mountain unsuccessfully, the shaman can use crows or birds to order the lead beastman team to provide support.”
“When can you meet the army at the foot of Deadwood Mountain?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. What is the terrain of the enemy stronghold, and what about the morale of their defense?”
Jima remained silent, snapped her fingers, and a sand table rose from the tabletop. A mountain stood up from the sand table, not too high, made up of one tallest peak and two smaller hills. A crude wooden stockade was located at the connection between the smaller hill and the larger mountain, with several paths winding down from the stockade.
George watched the stockade intently, nodding, “You did a great job; it’s very clear.”
Jima had ample military experience. Just one glance at the stockade, and she knew this would be tough for the Sanctuary army to handle.
The building techniques of the beastmen were even worse than the greenskins. Although the latter may look rough on the surface, they have a strange knack for being usable. However, at least they were built on a mountain; the rotten wood and rotten stone were enough to provide the defenders with a significant defensive advantage.
With fewer troops, fighting against many and in a confined space of the stockade made it difficult for the Sanctuary army to utilize their advantages in discipline, formation, and unit coordination.
But Jima had an idea. She suppressed her urge to show off and asked, “Commander George, do you have any thoughts?”
George pondered for a moment, pointed to a high ground in the stockade surrounded by wooden walls, and said, “Archers can stand on the wooden walls to shoot down at any of our troops that make it into the stockade. We should consider this point seriously when attacking.”
Jima looked at George in surprise. This military novice had only led a small army for a few months but seemed to understand quite a lot. Could he be a genius?
What if I don’t get to show off? What should I do?
“As for the attack plan.” George pulled out a book from somewhere, titled “How to Attack a City.” After flipping through the pages, he said, “When facing a small stronghold like this, we should utilize our advantages as extraordinary beings, launching a night attack to destroy their arrows and set their wooden walls on fire. Then we can attack when the enemy is weary.”
Eve Frostleaf couldn’t help but ask, “George, how many books are you carrying with you?”
“I borrowed every classic book about warfare from the library before I set out.”
“Wow, the titles of your Sanctuary books are quite easy to understand.” Jima remarked. “This plan sounds good, but there’s one issue.”
“What issue?”
“If the lead beastman team is to arrive at Deadwood Mountain immediately, how long will it take?”
George said, “Two days.”
“Let’s assume they are heading to Deadwood Mountain right now as you leave. That gives us only one day,” Jima said. “Once you initiate a night raid, if the shaman feels support is needed, they will immediately notify the lead beastman team. By the time you’ve burnt the arrows and destroyed the wooden walls and lead the troops to attack the stronghold, if it becomes a stalemate, you will face the danger of being caught in a pincers attack.”
George thought about it and felt a headache coming on, asking, “Do you have a plan?”
“Then we must forcefully attack Deadwood Mountain.”
