Chương 181: 181：A Masterclass in Guerrilla Warfare

"First detachment!" Soren barked, his demeanor swift and resolute as he began assigning his commanders.

"Here!" Kyle, the Quartermaster and Captain of the Pikeman Battalion, stepped forward in unison with Darion.

"You two will lead the two hundred and fifty-one shield-bearing pikemen. You are our anvil—the impenetrable defensive line responsible for halting their frontal advance." Soren used the tip of his dagger to trace several narrow, treacherous paths across the map. He locked eyes with Darion.

"Darion, I want you to push your [Swimming Mastery] to the absolute limit. You will lead these recruits and wade through the deep, flooded zones that ordinary men wouldn't dare set foot in!

"Along these chokepoints leading to Boulder Fortress, you are to find the absolute perfect terrain to anchor the Macedonian Phalanx!" Darion and Kyle's blood boiled with battle lust.

"Understood! We swear not a single Orc will cross our shield wall!"

"Second detachment!" The newly pledged Half-Elf Commander, Ilya, and the eagle-eyed Longbow Captain, Ein, stepped forward.

"Ilya, the one hundred and thirty Half-Elves you brought are masters of scaling cliffs and leaping through the canopy. Ein, your fifty elite longbowmen wield Imperial military longbows." Soren clapped a hand on Ilya's shoulder.

"Your two units will merge into one. You are our heavy ranged-suppression force.

"The Orcs have an abundance of heavy infantry, but they severely lack anti-air and long-range capabilities.

"Once you enter the swamp, you must ruthlessly exploit the extreme elevation changes along the route to the fortress!

"Seize the towering, dead tree canopies shrouded in toxic miasma, or scale the sheer, staggering drops of the cliff faces.

"Remember this: do not touch the ground! The moment the Goblin scouts relay their coordinates, you will reign hell upon them from above! Smash their skulls with your armor-piercing bodkins and elemental magic arrows! Obliterate their formations with a ceaseless rain of steel and fire!" Ilya's breathing grew ragged. In the past, she had only known how to lead her people into hiding. But now, this Warlord was unleashing her, ordering her to descend from the heavens to hunt Orcs!

She tightly gripped the insignia on her chest.

"We will turn every tree and high ground into a firing platform. We shall not fail you!"

"Third detachment! Buck!"

"Here!" Commander Buck's scarred, meaty face flushed bright red, brimming with bloodthirsty excitement. He was just waiting for his Lord's command to go start hacking people to pieces.

"Wipe that idiotic urge to charge straight in out of your head," Soren sharply reprimanded him, his tone incredibly severe.

"You will take all ninety-two Wolf Cavalrymen. And listen closely to your operational limits: even if you spot an isolated Orc squad, you are not to engage in a frontal charge! Your cavalry's armor is too thin!

"I want you to push the Direwolves' mobility advantage to its absolute limit!

"You will maintain strict concealment and terrifying speed within the swamp. You are to wait exclusively until the first two detachments have shattered the Orc formations before slicing in from the flanks.

"Use your hand crossbows to pursue from a distance! You are to harvest the stragglers—the routing Orcs running blind after losing their commanding officers! Do you understand?!" Though Buck felt a bit stifled, he didn't dare defy Soren's military orders. Gritting his teeth, he pounded his chest.

"Understood! We specialize in hunting deserters!"

"Fourth detachment!"

"Renn, step forward!" The exceptionally towering and burly martial monk, Renn, moved to the front of the map with thunderous steps. Pure, unadulterated killing intent finally erupted across Soren's face. The previous three detachments were all about control, harassment, and attrition. But this final detachment... this was his ultimate weapon for ripping the enemy out by the roots.

"Renn, you and the seventy Frontline Elites will form a single unit!" Soren's gaze locked firmly onto the absolute heart of the map.

"You don't need to hold a position. You don't need to seize the high ground. The seventy-one of you possess overwhelming, crushing individual combat power!

"The only order I have for you is a single word: Free-hunt!

"You will weave freely through this miserable mud pit of a swamp! Wherever you see elite Orc war chariots, wherever you spot high-ranking inspection officials in ornate armor separated from their main force... you will act as my sharpest assault blade and carve straight into them!" He slammed his clenched fist heavily onto the table.

"If you encounter any small enemy squads trying to block you, you don't need tactics. You just use your two-and-a-half-meter heavy halberds and grind them into bloody pulp!" Renn merely offered a slight nod. But his massive, tree-trunk-like arms, bulging with thick, pulsing veins, foreshadowed the impending storm of blood and gore.

"As you command, my Lord. I will gouge their eyes out of their skulls with my bare hands."

"The final piece. Meyer." Soren's gaze landed on the Intelligence Captain. This was the foundational keystone that would determine whether this massive operational plan functioned at all.

"Here, my Lord." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Your two hundred and eight Goblin scouts will be responsible for the comprehensive transmission of intelligence across this entire battlefield." Soren instructed him with profound earnestness.

"Fully exploit the advantages of their small statures and innate stealth abilities! Scatter them all!

"Inside tree hollows, beneath the mud pits, right beside the nests of Demon Crocs—they are to weave in and out constantly, providing an unbroken chain of intelligence!

"No matter which of the first three detachments is the first to discover the exact movements and specific troop deployments of the Orc inspection delegation, they must report back to me through your messengers with maximum speed! Absolutely no one is allowed to get greedy and advance prematurely!" The entire deployment sequence flowed like running water, perfectly executed in a single, unbroken breath. You could hear a pin drop inside the wooden command cabin.

Ranged suppression, heavy infantry defense, high-speed cavalry flanking, Special Forces decapitation strikes, and omni-dimensional Goblin intelligence reconnaissance—he had flawlessly integrated all of it with the atrocious elevation changes and environment of the swamp. This deployment meticulously engineered the architecture of the upcoming campaign. Having laid out the grand design, Soren leaned forward, planting both hands firmly on the desk.

Projecting absolute, suffocating authority, he issued the ironclad mandate for the entire army:"All commanding officers, listen to me closely! This is the absolute bottom-line principle!

"If any unit encounters a heavily fortified Orc main camp on the defensive line, you absolutely must not get bogged down in a protracted fight!

"We are fighting a guerrilla war, not throwing our lives away in a meat grinder! Your primary objective will always be to preserve the lives of your men and minimize our own casualties!

"Through ceaseless harassment, attrition, and hit-and-run kiting tactics, you will drive the massive escort guarding that inspection delegation into a state of absolute paranoia and frustration!

"Force them to reveal their exact march route and expose their vulnerabilities!

"Do I make myself perfectly clear?!"

"Understood! Victory! Victory for the Lord!" The eleven commanders roared in perfect unison. Their collective shout was like muffled thunder, shaking the dust free from the rafters above.

"Dismissed. All captains are to work through the night to establish detailed passwords, underwater communication gestures, and contingency plans for your tactical executions." Soren waved his hand. The generals filed out of the cabin, every single one of them rubbing their hands in eager anticipation. The drizzle outside the door seemed to grow even colder, infected by the sheer killing intent radiating from their bodies. Soon, only four people remained in the command room. Silence fell over the cabin once more.

Commander Cedric and Commander Leona, who had been observing with critical, scrutinizing eyes, were now staring with utter, unadulterated shock. Cedric's proudest achievement—the Ironpeak Duchy's positional defense theory—suddenly seemed incredibly primitive and outdated in the face of Soren's fierce, seamlessly interlocked, multi-branch tactical synergy. He turned his head to look at Leona beside him, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered admiration:"Commander Leona, I must admit...

your Silvermoon Kingdom—or more accurately, your Crimson Moon Knights—has truly produced a peerless military genius rarely seen in a century.

"If such a commander belonged to my Ironpeak Duchy, I would strip off my armor, retire to the countryside, and hand my position over to him this very instant without a second thought!" Deep down, Leona was just as electrified by the magnificent battlefield blueprint Soren had painted. Her blood was boiling, and the hand resting on her sword hilt was twitching uncontrollably from sheer excitement. But in front of an outsider, she flawlessly executed a masterclass in hypocritical, performative arrogance.

The woman raised her chin high. With incredibly exaggerated nonchalance, she brushed back her messy red hair and waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, please, Commander Cedric. You call that a military genius? I'd say it's just passable." She shamelessly proceeded to slap gold leaf all over her own face.

"This kid just spent too much time listening to my strategic tutoring sessions back in the Silvermoon Kingdom's capital. He soaked up a bit of my influence and learned the absolute basics, that's all.

"Though, I suppose his ability to translate theory into live combat is barely acceptable. At the very least, he hasn't ruined the reputation of our Crimson Moon Knights!" It wasn't just Cedric. Even the perpetually gentle and forgiving Priestess Elena covertly rolled her eyes in a highly ungraceful manner at Leona's outrageous bragging. Soren's revolutionary cross-branch tactics were profound enough to found a new school of thought at the Kingdom's War Academy.

As the Commander, Leona probably hadn't even understood half of it! The pre-battle deployment meeting concluded. Soren headed straight back to his quarters, closed his eyes, and began to rest his mind. Because he knew perfectly well that tomorrow, the moment they stepped beyond the concealment array, what awaited him was a relentless, multi-day hunt of slaughter.