Chương 274: 274： A Deal with the Devil

"Kill me! Just fucking kill me!" Zim thrashed violently against his bindings, the heavy iron chains clattering deafeningly against the stone. The apocalyptic agony caused his bloodshot eyes to literally bulge from their sockets. This hardened veteran—a man who hadn't let out a single whimper under the salt-laced whip—suffered a complete and utter psychological collapse as he watched his own flesh being methodically vivisected and liquefied!

"Patience. We've only just reached the elbow." Zagar coldly admired Zim's wretched state, deliberately slowing the pace of the magical corrosion.

"Next will be your shoulder, and then your chest. When you watch the flesh of your own torso melt away, when you stare down at your own beating heart exposed to the freezing air... you will have more than enough time to reminisce about the 'honor' of your Knights."

"Stop! Please, I beg you, stop!" Battered by the dual onslaught of apocalyptic physical agony and unimaginable visual horror, Zim's internal bastion of loyalty and honor finally crumbled to dust. To survive, and more importantly, to end this torture that was a thousand times worse than death, he entirely abandoned his principles as a human soldier.

"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Just stop the magic!" Zim shrieked with the absolute last ounce of his strength. Tears, snot, and cold sweat streamed down his ghastly pale face. In this moment, he was no longer an elite outrider of the Crimson Moon Knights; he was nothing more than a pathetic, broken wretch completely crushed by primal terror. Zagar twitched a single, withered finger. The shadow mana that had just reached Zim's shoulder instantly froze.

"Where is the main camp of the Crimson Moon Knights?" Zagar asked, his voice as cold as the grave.

"It's... it's northwest of the Deadbone Woods in the Misty Swamp... There's a high ground surrounded by highly acidic muck!"

"Commander Leona is stationed there right now! They've built defensive trenches, numbering roughly two thousand six hundred men! The only safe passage into the camp is a narrow chokepoint between two towering, adjacent Poison-Camphor trees!" Zim gasped frantically for air, spilling the absolute core military secrets of the Crimson Moon Knights without holding a single detail back. Zagar's slit-pupils flared brightly. He rapidly cross-referenced the location with the mental map of the Misty Swamp in his head.

"The northwest high ground of the Deadbone Woods... So that's where they hid. No wonder our vanguard units could never locate Leona's main force." Obtaining the exact coordinates of the Crimson Moon Knights brought Zagar a deep sense of satisfaction. However, he immediately pivoted to the name he cared about most—the name that currently struck absolute dread into the highest echelons of the Orc Alliance:"Excellent. Now... what about Greywater Village?"

Zagar suddenly leaned in close, the highly corrosive shadow mana writhing menacingly in his palm.

"Tell me. That Deputy Border Commander named Soren... where are the exact coordinates of his Greywater Village? How are his troops deployed? That 'Black Steel' armor capable of completely ignoring heavy weapons—exactly how many suits do they possess? And what are their anti-air countermeasures?" Faced with this barrage of lethal interrogations, Zim felt utterly lost and bewildered.

"I... I don't know..."

"Hmm?" Zagar's gaze instantly turned dangerously hostile, the shadow mana violently flaring to life once more.

"I swear! I really don't know!" Zim shrieked in abject terror.

"Commander Soren's Greywater Village is guarded with absolute paranoia! Aside from Commander Leona and a few core officers, rank-and-file outriders like us aren't even permitted to approach within ten miles of the territory!"

"I only know that Lord Soren recently absorbed a large batch of Steppe barbarians! As for their exact defensive arrays, firepower configurations, or total troop numbers... there is absolutely no way someone of my rank could access that!" Hearing this confession, the brow Zagar had just smoothed furrowed deeply once again. He was profoundly disappointed.

"Soren... to think this human is so terrifyingly cautious. He completely quarantines even the low-ranking soldiers of his own allies away from his core secrets." Zagar's mind raced with cold calculations. Warchief Blackstone was about to deploy thirty thousand apex elites to execute an absolute encirclement of Greywater Village. It was an undeniably apocalyptic force. However, the terrain of the Misty Swamp was far too treacherous. Toxic miasma, bottomless mud pits, Two-headed Demonic Crocodiles...

not to mention the endless, insidious traps set by Soren, and his heavy, long-range anti-air ballistae. If the Orc army charged in blindly without exact targets, even if they managed to conquer Greywater Village through sheer numerical superiority, the astronomical casualty rate would undoubtedly send the Warchief into a catastrophic rage.

"We cannot just rely on brute force. We must shatter them from within."

"I need a spy. I need a sleeper agent planted inside who can entirely sabotage Greywater Village's defenses at the absolute critical moment." Zagar's gaze fell once again upon Zim, who was currently shivering violently from the pain. A bold, utterly venomous deep-cover scheme rapidly took shape in his mind. Kill this cowardly wretch? That was completely useless. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Release him?

"Zim." Zagar instantly retracted all of his shadow mana. Even the oppressive, suffocating aura in the dungeon seemed to dissipate. He even extended his hand, channeling a dark, restorative spell to forcefully seal the gruesome, flayed wound on Zim's left arm, successfully stopping the bleeding.

"You are exceptionally lucky. Not only will you keep your life, but you are about to acquire a massive fortune and elevated status." Zagar glided to Zim's side, his voice dripping with demonic temptation:"I can let you go. And not only that... I will personally choreograph the perfect, heroic performance for you: the tale of a brave, unyielding soldier who miraculously escaped a hellish Orc dungeon by the skin of his teeth." Zim froze.

He stared at the Orc Priest before him in absolute disbelief, his lips trembling violently.

"You... you're going to let me go?"

"Yes. I will release you, and I will let you return draped in glory." Zagar sneered coldly. From his voluminous sleeves, he produced a pill pulsing with a faint, abyssal black light. Without an ounce of mercy, he violently clamped Zim's jaw open and shoved the pill straight down his throat. Gulp. Zim was forced to swallow.

"Do not panic. This is a Seed of Shadow. It has an incubation period of exactly one year. Without my antidote, a year from today, you will scream in bone-drilling agony for seven days and seven nights before your heart finally ruptures." Zagar stared at Zim, whose face had just turned a ghastly, ashen grey:"I will stage a scene of negligent guards, allowing you to 'escape' the camp. Bearing your gruesome scars, you will return to Leona's Crimson Moon Knights."

"A veteran who suffered horrific Orc torture and miraculously survived will undoubtedly earn the highest commendations and absolute trust of the human command. You will use that trust to embed yourself deeply." Zagar's eyes were filled with pure venom.

"Your mission: Find an opportunity to exploit the intelligence exchange protocol between the Crimson Moon Knights and Greywater Village. You will request a transfer directly to Soren's territory!"

"No matter the cost, you will locate their anti-air bunkers! You will uncover the exact forges where the Black Steel armor is manufactured! And at the absolute critical moment, when the Orc Alliance launches its full-scale invasion, you will sabotage their defensive magical arrays from the inside!" Zagar mockingly patted Zim's stiff, paralyzed cheek, delivering his ultimate promise:"As long as you coordinate with the main army to annihilate Soren... once it is done, the antidote is yours.

Furthermore, the Blood Province will reward you with mountains of gold and an official rank commanding a slave legion." Suspended in mid-air, Zim felt cold sweat soak entirely through his back. He knew perfectly well that the moment he agreed, he would be reduced to a historic sinner who sold out the entire human defensive line. He would become a complete and utter traitor serving the Orc Alliance.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his flayed left arm—half of the flesh rotted away, exposing the stark white bone beneath. And deep within his chest, he could feel the terrifying, faint pulse of the shadow mana wrapped around his heart... In the end, his primal terror of pain violently crushed his intangible, invisible loyalty.

"I... I'll do it..." Zim squeezed his eyes shut, shedding tears of absolute humiliation and treason.

"I will be Your Excellency's inside man... As long as you give me the antidote... I'll do anything."

"Excellent." Zagar straightened his posture, highly satisfied. This venomous pawn, explicitly designed to destroy Soren, was finally planted.

"Guards," Zagar called out coldly toward the door.

"Knock out the two idiots guarding the outer corridor. Unshackle him, and leave a short sword on the ground. Then...

'accidentally' leave the iron grate leading to the drainage aqueduct wide open." Misty Swamp, the northwest high ground of the Deadbone Woods. Bubbles of highly acidic muck continuously popped around the perimeter of the entrenched position. Two towering Poison-Camphor trees stood straight and tall on either side, rigorously guarding the only safe, concealed passage. This was the main camp of the Crimson Moon Knights.

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the main camp was entirely different from the cold, blood-soaked hell of the Orc dungeon. Dozens of blazing bonfires roared throughout the camp. Massive iron cauldrons boiled with thick, rich stew made from monster meat, the savory aroma drifting freely through the biting winter wind. Although the patrolling knights had mud splattered across their armor, their strides were lighter and more powerful than ever before.

Every single face was brimming with a vibrant, uplifting pride they hadn't felt in years. This joy-filled encampment remained completely oblivious to the horrific events that had just transpired a hundred miles away in the dungeons of Bloodfang Fortress. They knew absolutely nothing of the veteran Zim bending the knee in treason, nor of Shadow Priest Zagar's highly venomous, deep-cover plot targeted directly at Greywater Village.

Inside the spacious, red-canvas central command tent, beast-charcoal burned vigorously in the braziers, completely banishing the severe winter cold.

"Commander! Commander Leona! Incredible news! Monumental news!" The heavy tent flap was violently thrown open.