Chapter 78: A Sudden Calamity

On the eighth day after crossing the river, the march of the human alliance was significantly slowed under the harrying guerrilla tactics of the ratfolk, who moved like shadows across the plains. Although there had been no major casualties, the original plan to reach Gaoting in ten days had already collapsed. On the eighth day, they were still a full hundred kilometers from their destination.

Just as One-Eye was orchestrating his ambush against the vanguard of the human alliance, dire news arrived from the rear of the ratfolk ranks.

In a makeshift encampment, One-Eye was in the midst of discussing the next days' ambush strategies with his lieutenants when a breathless runner hurried to his side and whispered urgently.

“Commander Sneech, the Chieftain was ambushed and gravely wounded while inspecting the irrigation canal by the river. He’s been in a coma for three days now…”

One-Eye stood rooted to the spot, stunned.

With the commander gravely wounded and unconscious in the midst of war, how could the army hope to continue fighting with its backbone lost?

“Has the news been contained?” One-Eye asked in a low voice.

“It was locked down immediately by order of Minister Sha. Right now, apart from the personal guard present, no other rat is aware.”

After a long silence, One-Eye finally spoke. “I must return. Hank, you have full authority to command. Execute the plans we discussed. You must return to Gaoting within three days.”

“What’s happened, boss? Something wrong back home?” Hank, noticing the change in One-Eye’s expression, couldn’t help but speculate.

One-Eye only patted Hank on the back and left without another word.

Three days earlier.

At the irrigation canal outside Gaoting.

Yang Jie was walking along the canal toward the Tam River, inspecting the water reserves.

On the bank of the Tam River fifty meters away, Ron, who had been submerged in the river for nearly three days, finally saw his chance.

Ron didn’t know Yang Jie by face; to him, all ratfolk looked the same—he was, as it were, face-blind. But when he saw a group of ratfolk approaching, with Yang Jie surrounded in the center, he surmised this must be at least a senior officer.

At that moment, Ron’s sharp eyes spotted Karl among the entourage. Having fought him before, Ron knew Karl’s strength. Yet here Karl was, willingly acting as a bodyguard—proof enough that the ratfolk in the center must be someone of great importance, perhaps even Ron’s target.

Soaked to the bone after three days in the river, Ron’s hands trembled as he drew an arrow and nocked it to the string.

He summoned his magic, gathering his strength. For a master archer like Ron, fifty meters was a trivial shot. But three days in cold water had sapped his stamina, and to maximize his strike, Ron chose an explosive arrow with a wide blast radius.

It should have been a shot he could not miss. But as he loosed the arrow, his right forearm, numbed by the chill, twitched involuntarily. The arrow veered off course by a single degree—enough to send it flying toward a ratfolk with a vicious scar on his face, instead of striking Yang Jie as intended.

In that moment, Yang Jie sensed the danger and shoved Johnny, who was standing in front of him, out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the explosive arrow himself.

Without even glancing to confirm his hit, Ron slipped beneath the river’s surface, letting the current carry him away.

Yang Jie’s body was blasted through the air, landing ten meters away in a bloody heap, his fate uncertain.

Yang Jie’s thoughts had been simple—he hardly had time to process what was happening. When he caught sight of a sharp-eared human with a longbow emerging from the river, an arrow glowing with a sinister red light, his first instinct was clear: this was an assassin come for him, a dark elf with murder in his eyes. He tried to dodge, but the arrow flew before he could react.

Johnny, the scarred ratfolk, instinctively leaped to shield Yang Jie. But Yang Jie, without hesitation, pushed Johnny aside, taking the arrow himself.

To Yang Jie, as a lord-player who could resurrect at the altar, dying once was no big deal. But “Legendary Johnny” only had one life before his awakening—if he were to fall here, it would be an irredeemable loss.

With no hesitation, Yang Jie pushed Johnny aside, and was himself blown off his feet and slammed into the earth. That was how it all happened.

Old Sha was on the scene as well. To steady the troops, he had the news locked down immediately and began treating Yang Jie at once.

The treatment was crude: powdered greenstone lime was sprinkled over the wound, and the rest was left to Yang Jie’s own resilience.

In this era of backward technology and primitive civilization, medical care was rudimentary. On the battlefield, a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding was a death sentence.

…

For now, the news was contained. But there are no walls without cracks; word of Chieftain Yang Jie’s grave injury and coma would not remain secret for long. Among the remaining officers, someone would have to take the lead—for the greater good, with the enemy pressing in.

With a heavy heart, One-Eye Sneech made his way back to Gaoting.

…

Two days later, within Gaoting itself, all preparations for war had been completed. The militarization of the city was nearly finished, and under the help of the female rats, the field hospital was ready, able to accommodate two thousand wounded at once.

The reserves had been expanded from three thousand to 8,461—a mobilization of nearly the entire tribe’s potential.

All manner of weapons had been distributed. Gaoting was now a fortress where every ratfolk was a soldier, making their final preparations for the coming battle.

One-Eye led the Black Banner officers swiftly through the city gates, heading straight for the conference chamber.

Patrol squads armed to the teeth lined the streets. All civilian production had ceased; since Yang Jie’s injury, the city had been on high alert, martial law at its peak. Even as he hurried to the administrative hall, One-Eye could feel the tension thick in the air, a powder keg waiting for a spark.

…

He strode across the central square and pushed open the conference chamber doors.

“I’m back!”

Finding an empty seat, One-Eye sat. He could feel the heavy atmosphere—every officer was bowed under the weight of responsibility.

“Thank you for your efforts. Sit.” Old Sha and the other officers rose, and once One-Eye had found a seat, they all sat together.

“I’ve heard what happened. They say the Chieftain is gravely wounded and may not wake soon. What is our next step?” As commander of the Black Banner Army, One-Eye spoke without preamble, cutting straight to the heart.

“Ahem…” Old Sha cleared his throat. He had barely slept these past few days; his eyes were bloodshot and weary.

“This emergency meeting was called after discussions with Minister Victor. At this critical moment, with the Chieftain unconscious, our main purpose is to select a supreme commander to lead us to victory!”

“This is a trial our tribe must overcome, no matter what!”

With that, Old Sha glanced sidelong at Sneech.

…