The Winds Rise and Clouds Surge

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Western Border of the Fagon Forest

With the help of the Sett people, Karl’s wounds had fully healed. Now, the three mice, carrying the baskets they had brought with them, were waving farewell to a group of slender Sett, their bodies covered in short fur.

“We can only escort you this far...”

“Please convey our goodwill to your chieftain!”

The chieftain of the Sett, Juniper, placed his right hand across his chest and bowed slightly, his demeanor both sincere and humble.

“Certainly, thank you for your help during these days!”

“It was you who saved us!”

Karl and his companions felt boundless gratitude toward the Sett.

Half a month ago

When it was confirmed that the three mice were enemies of the Dark Elves, the two sides quickly opened up to each other—after all, the enemy of one’s enemy is a friend.

During these two weeks, Karl and his companions had received meticulous care and protection from the Sett, and were also provided with a wealth of intelligence about the Dark Elves.

Once Karl had recovered, the Sett chieftain personally led a team to escort them to the border of the Fagon Forest and even pointed out a safe route across the nearby Northen Plains that would allow them to return to Highcourt unharmed.

...

In addition to detailed information on the Dark Elves, the mice also gained insight into the current strategic situation of the Fagon Forest with the Sett’s help.

In the western region of the Fagon Forest alone, there were five mighty civilized races, but none seemed inclined toward forming alliances, maintaining instead a delicate balance.

Among these, the Sett and the Dark Elves were mortal enemies, irreconcilable as water and fire. Their animosity extended to all aspects—territory, religion, and culture. Large-scale wars were rare, but minor raids never ceased.

When the Sett chieftain learned of the mice’s intention to ally, he was overjoyed; their hatred for the greedy Dark Elves ran deep.

With the Sett’s assistance, Karl quickly gained a thorough understanding of the Dark Elves—after all, no one knows you better than your enemy. Having battled each other for so long, the Dark Elves and the Sett understood one another as well as themselves.

Half a month ago, on the very first day they met, when the Sett squad leader saw the wound on Karl’s chest, he understood everything at a glance. The telltale grazes left by the Dark Elves’ wind arrows were all too familiar.

Notably, the Dark Elves were gathering in force on the eastern side of the Northen Plains, moving troops into their newly built camp—already two thousand warriors strong.

With this news, the three mice immediately decided to return to Highcourt.

...

At the same time, a hundred kilometers away, the central square of Highcourt was bustling with excitement.

Yang Jie was attending a ribbon-cutting ceremony. At the corner of the central square, a thirty-meter-high watchtower had just been completed.

The tower’s main structure was an ancient tree, thick enough for a man to encircle with both arms, supporting a brickwork construction.

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From the top of the watchtower, not only Highcourt, but the entire Horseshoe Hill plateau could be seen at a glance. Across the vast Northen Plains, any enemy within the visual range of the mice would not escape their sight.

Recently, the one-eyed Black Banner Army had expanded to fifteen hundred mice. Scarred Johnny had completed the city guard corps, filling all eight hundred slots.

Viktor, who was temporarily in charge of the reserve forces, had, after reinforcing the Black Banner and City Guard armies, also filled the three-thousand-mouse quota.

Yang Jie stood atop the watchtower, watching the sunrise in the distance, his heart surging with indomitable spirit and resolve.

Yet he did not know that an unprecedented crisis was fast approaching.

...

Parlando Plateau

Ironforge Fortress

Xue Hui rode at the head of the column on a giant ram, accompanied by a legendary level-18 dwarf hero—the Hill King, Muradin Bronzebeard!

Behind Xue Hui marched a grand army of five thousand dwarves, their leader Jin Li following closely, raising high the iron-hammer cross battle standard.

These five thousand dwarf warriors represented almost all of Xue Hui’s forces, showing the importance he attached to this expedition.

According to intelligence from their allies, the Dark Elves, the mousefolk on the Northen Plains were far stronger than imagined, to the point where even one-on-one fights would be difficult to win.

But Xue Hui would not fight an unprepared war.

As for his other allies:

Zhang Wenyuan had sent fifteen hundred men to help—anyone could guess they were the old, weak, and infirm, essentially cannon fodder. Though not stated outright, these fifteen hundred were merely a token contribution.

Feng Wanqing was a staunch supporter and would lend her full aid, and Liu Wei, as Wu Fan’s best friend, would not shirk his duty now.

Yet their strength was limited—not for lack of trust, but simply because sending their elite troops was already the utmost they could do.

In single combat, neither could match, nor had they ever been a threat to Wu Fan; the main burden thus fell on Xue Hui’s own shoulders. But as president of the “Valiant Rangers,” he had his own way of doing things.

Was he really out for Wu Fan’s revenge?

Truthfully, Wu Fan himself would hardly believe it.

...

Eastern Northen Plains

After receiving a secret mission from the Elf King, Ron chose a handful of skilled warriors and once again stepped onto the Northen Plains.

His right arm still ached from the wound—a shame he could never erase.

The Elf King’s secret order was simple: eight words.

Infiltrate Highcourt. Assassinate the Mouse King.

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Ron could not understand it. Although there were some minor conflicts and disagreements between the mice and the elves, it was hardly cause enough for such a command from the Elf King.

To the north of Silvermoon City were the Sett, with whom relations were so hostile that war could break out at any moment.

On the Dark Elves’ eastern flank were the Moonshadow clan, who also occupied the Fagon Forest. Their relationship was lukewarm at best, mere allies on the surface.

In this situation, Ron could not imagine why the Elf King would press so many troops into the mice’s territory.

It was clearly a prelude to war. The deeper he thought, the more it chilled him to the bone.

He was but an ordinary warrior—perhaps an exceptional archer among the Dark Elves—but from his perspective, he could not fathom the greater picture.

He shook his head, quickly casting aside those tangled thoughts.

Better to focus on how to infiltrate Highcourt...

...

Nightfall

Highcourt

Yang Jie, having just returned from the ribbon-cutting ceremony, washed up and was preparing to rest.

At that moment, he noticed a new message on his system panel.

He wondered why he’d received mail at such a late hour. In his experience, messages from the system were always important and rarely sent at night.

Opening the system, he saw it was an anonymous letter.

It was the kind that could not be replied to nor traced in any way. In “Tower Defense and Civilization,” the system was stringent in protecting the privacy of all lords.

The envelope was addressed thus:

To Yang Jie, Chieftain of the Mousefolk.

“Clearly, whoever sent this knows exactly who I am.”

How amusing...

Yang Jie grinned disdainfully at the air of mystery, then opened the letter.

As he read the brief message, Yang Jie’s expression grew grave. Whatever drowsiness he had felt vanished without a trace.

“In less than half a month! Nearly twenty thousand soldiers of the human coalition will march upon the gates of Highcourt. My lord, you must be vigilant! Prepare for the decisive battle!”