Chương 116: The Enemy Advances Directly on Poloia

Throughout the remainder of the deep night, Li Qinwu personally commanded three more successive lightning raids, relentlessly rotating his tactical patterns to keep the human host guessing. One moment, his field artillery pieces would unleash a blistering kinetic barrage; the next, Li Qinwu would spearhead a ferocious infantry detachment straight into the chaos to hack apart the panicked human lines.

At other intervals, the nimble Spider Cavalry would swiftly glide through the perimeter to sow fires and execute logistics guards. Whenever the human commanders attempted to consolidate a heavy mass of infantry to anchor a defensive block, Li Qinwu would immediately position 1, 200 musketeers along the perimeter. A massive, synchronized volley from 1, 200 black-powder firearms would violently shatter the human formation before his shock troops charged home to finish the survivors with cold steel.

By leveraging a compact strike force of roughly 1, 300 system troops backed by the absolute technical supremacy of gunpowder, Li Qinwu subjected the human encampment to an unmitigated nightmare. By the time the cycle concluded, his forces had claimed nearly a thousand human lives and reduced a substantial portion of the enemy's canvas pavilions to ash. The human leadership had desperately tried to formulate a viable tactical countermeasure.

They attempted to assemble dense lines of conventional bowmen, crossbowmen, and heavy ballistas near the edge of the camp, but the fundamental, structural gap between cold weaponry and black-powder firearms proved to be an absolute, unyielding chasm. The moment Li Qinwu's pristine biological night-vision caught sight of the human crews setting up heavy ballistas, he would instantly command his field pieces to load grape shot and wipe out the positions.

He would then concentrate his entire musketeer corp two hundred meters away, unleashing crushing volleys that completely liquidated the human archers before sending his infantry in to mop up. If the human infantry attempted to consolidate into dense tactical blocks to weather the storm, their fate was infinitely more horrific.

The combination of concentrated artillery fire, rolling musket volleys, and heavy demolition charges tore through their packed ranks in a storm of pulverized flesh, leaving behind nothing but mountain-sized piles of corpses. The human host spent the entire chaotic night scrambling from one disaster to the next, reaping nothing but an immense tally of casualties and a completely shattered perimeter.

When the morning sun finally broke across the horizon, every single human soldier bore deep, dark circles under their eyes. Their collective mental state was profoundly deteriorated, characterized by absolute psychological exhaustion. A continuous night of thunderous artillery blasts and sharp musket volleys had utterly unraveled their nervous systems; at this point, many among them felt so profoundly broken they would have welcomed the sweet release of death.

Inside the grand command pavilion, Count Fischer's voice cracked in a furious, trembling roar:"By the Goddess of Life above!! Do those damnable demon forces possess zero desire to rest even for a single moment?! Will someone among you pathetic fools tell me how we are supposed to counter these weapons?!" The assembled vassal lords looked equally wretched.

Having spent the entire night scrambling to address the fires erupting across all sectors, none of them had secured a single minute of sleep, and their personal retinues had sustained catastrophic casualties. They had exhausted every strategic convention in their textbooks to deter the night raids, but the absolute generational gap in weaponry was a cold, objective reality. It was an asymmetric advantage that no amount of traditional military intellect could hope to bridge.

At this point, a dark, collective realization began to dawn upon the aristocrats: if the entire demon army garrisoned within the walls of Poloia was equipped with these thunder-generating engines, had they marched all this way to execute a punitive campaign, or had they simply marched to their own slaughter? Seeing that his questions were met with absolute silence, Count Fischer's rage intensified.

He swept his bloodshot eyes across the pavilion, suddenly realizing that a notable member of his inner circle was missing.

"Where is Baron Rowan?! Why has that accursed, indolent coward failed to present himself at this vital council?! Is he still asleep in his cot?!" The tent fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Finally, an elderly noble spoke up, his voice entirely hollow: "My Lord Count... Baron Rowan personally deployed his retinue last night to intercept a demon raiding party. He was executed on the field." The late Baron had possessed a suit of heavy plate armor adorned with exceptionally lavish, gilded decorations.

Because of this, he had been systematically targeted and sniped out of his saddle by Gobu Bow using a heavy long-gun. Throughout the course of the night, the goblin sniper had targeted and systematically executed an immense number of human officers who made the fatal mistake of wearing ornate, high-status armor. Count Fischer froze, a cold sensation of dread finally piercing through his anger as he fell into a profound, grim silence.

A dense cloud of psychological despair settled over the war council as the lords quietly tasted the bitter reality of their situation. Suddenly, from the far distance, the unmistakable, thunderous BOOM of an artillery discharge echoed through the air once more. Outside the pavilion, the common infantrymen immediately fell into another flurry of panicked shouting. A sentry burst through the tent flaps, crying out in terror: "My Lords! The enemy has initiated another bombardment!"

The assembled nobles ground their teeth in raw, unadulterated frustration. Count Fischer's face flushed as red as a monkey's backside; he knew with absolute certainty that if this relentless attrition continued, his army would be completely broken and scattered before they could even lay eyes on the walls of Poloia. It was at this precise moment that the elderly archmage, Fortier, finally spoke from his quiet corner.

"My Lord Count, distinguished lords... why don't we simply fracture the host into multiple independent columns and march directly upon Poloia?" Every eye in the tent simultaneously snapped toward him. Old Magus Fortier casually took a draw from his wooden pipe, rose to his feet, and tapped his enchanted staff against the marching map sprawled across the central table.

"Our current coordinates place us a mere eighty li from Poloia. If we initiate a forced march, our vanguard can establish a siege perimeter beneath their walls within two days. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"The enemy strike force operating in our rear cannot possibly number more than a thousand combatants. They lack the numerical capacity to divide their forces and effectively intercept multiple columns. To put it plainly—if our army abandons all concern for rear-guard skirmishes and presses directly for the city, the demon commander will no longer possess the luxury of lingering out here to harass us. They will be mathematically forced to retreat to defend their stronghold!"

The eyes of the vassal lords instantly lit up. It was a flawless tactical pivot! By completely ignoring the guerrilla force and striking straight at the heart of Poloia, they would force the demon commander to abandon his asymmetric field operations and lock himself behind his own walls! The nobles immediately fell into an energetic discussion, universally agreeing that the plan was highly viable.

They rapidly drafted an operational framework, dividing their massive infantry host and logistics train into ten distinct marching columns designed to converge upon Poloia in a sweeping, multi-pronged envelopment. However, a lingering thread of anxiety quickly resurfaced among the lords. Dammit... once we actually arrive beneath the walls of Poloia, are we just going to be systematically slaughtered by those thunder-generating engines?

Sensing their collective hesitation, Archmage Fortier offered a reassuring smile.

"Lords, calm yourselves. A novel weapon of this nature is a secular commodity; its production is invariably restricted. Their inventory of these engines is undoubtedly minuscule. Think about it logically—if they possessed these weapons in true abundance, would their commander still be resorting to these minor, small-scale harassment tactics?" The lords weighed the old mage's logic and found it entirely sound.

Assured by this rationalization, they dismissed themselves from the pavilion to aggressively execute the marching orders. Meanwhile, several kilometers away, Li Qinwu had just guided his forces through another successful artillery harassment cycle before pulling back three li into a secluded valley to rest. In truth, his own soldiers were reaching their absolute physical limits.

An entire night of high-intensity raiding—constantly cycling through firing maneuvers, handling heavy black-powder artillery, and maintaining high-speed movements—had left their psychological and physical reserves severely depleted. However, because Li Qinwu had implemented a strict shift-rotation system for the night operations, his troops had managed to catch brief intervals of sleep in turns. Consequently, their overall combat readiness was still noticeably superior to that of the human host.

As the strike force assembled in the staging area, Li Qinwu opened the system management interface to allocate the accumulated experience. Following a full night of relentless slaughter combined with their previous combat tallies, over seven hundred veteran troops within the Punisher Army's original Ten Companies had successfully met the requirements to advance into Tier 3 elite units.

If he could maintain this high-efficiency grinding process for another day or two, he would achieve the absolute milestone of commanding a hundred-percent Tier 3 army.

"All units, maximize your time! Eat your rations and rest immediately! We resume the assault in exactly two hours!" Li Qinwu's voice boomed across the encampment. Reaching into the system storage warehouse, he extracted a massive supply of dried magical beast meat and distributed it among his tired troops. He personally jammed five or six strips of the dense jerky into his jaws, chewed them down rapidly, and immediately collapsed flat onto the bare earth to sleep.

At this point, he couldn't care less about basic comforts. His uniform was completely caked in dried human blood, and his entire body radiated a foul, metallic stench. He was in the dirtiest, grimiest phase of building his empire from scratch; a little physical hardship was nothing more than par for the course. Using a wooden ammunition crate as a makeshift pillow beneath his skull, Li Qinwu forced his consciousness to go entirely blank, desperately trying to trigger an immediate sleep cycle.

Suddenly, the rapid, rhythmic thudding of arachnid limbs echoing against the dirt caught his ear, and the sound was closing in fast. Li Qinwu snapped his eyes open and sat up just in time to see Gobu Run leap off his war-spider, shouting anxiously: "Boss! The enemy is on the move! They've fractured their entire host into over ten independent columns and are executing a high-speed forced march straight toward Poloia!"

Li Qinwu's brow furrowed tightly as his brain rapidly processed the tactical implications of the intelligence. Within seconds, his expression shifted into a dark grimace.

"Dammit! Those bastards are smarter than I gave them credit for!!" Li Qinwu instantly deduced the human commander's strategic intent, and it was a maneuver that effectively neutralized his current operational model. It completely stripped away his capacity to conduct low-risk field harassment.

By executing a forced march across multiple axes, the human host was undeniably exposing massive systemic vulnerabilities; if Li Qinwu chose to commit his entire force to a concentrated assault, he could easily obliterate one of their isolated columns. However, if he allowed himself to be baited into a localized engagement, the remaining human columns would unimpeded reach the gates of Poloia.

If that occurred, the Punisher Army's main body would find themselves completely cut off from the city, unable to re-enter their own fortress. Weighing the strategic variables, Li Qinwu ultimately chose the path of absolute stability. He had to secure Poloia. Nevertheless, he had zero intention of letting the human host march across his lands completely unpunished. He needed to leave a specialized detachment in the field to act as a persistent thorn in their side.

Turning his gaze toward Gobu Run, Li Qinwu issued a stern, uncompromising command:"Gobu Run! I am going to lead the primary infantry columns back to garrison the city immediately. However, I am leaving two field guns under your direct command. Have your riders pack every available square inch of their saddlebags with ammunition. You will remain in the field and systematically hunt for any opportunity to bleed the enemy!" Gobu Run dropped into a crisp, military posture, his face deadly serious.

"Boss! I guarantee the absolute fulfillment of the objective!" Li Qinwu nodded in satisfaction, continuing his briefing: "Your detachment is numerically small, but your all-terrain mobility is unmatched. Remember the golden rule: under no circumstances are you to lock yourself into a head-on, conventional engagement with their main infantry blocks. Your primary directive is to inflict maximum psychological and physical harassment while prioritizing the absolute survival of your unit!

"Target their secondary logistics lines, liquidate their isolated scouting pickets, and whenever a viable window presents itself, deploy your field guns to drop a few shells directly into their command camps.

"To put it simply—you must visualize yourself as a persistent, lethal mosquito, and the human host as a massive, lumbering behemoth. Your sole purpose is to sting this giant beast so relentlessly that it cannot find a single moment of peace!" Gobu Run forcefully thudded his fist against his chest armor.

"Boss, I understand perfectly! Rest easy. I currently command ninety-six brothers under my wing. When this campaign concludes, I swear I will bring every single one of those ninety-six brothers back to you completely intact!" The corners of Li Qinwu's mouth twitched upward into a genuine smile. This explicit commitment proved that the goblin commander had thoroughly grasped the core essence of asymmetric guerrilla warfare.

With nearly a hundred elite all-terrain cavalry operating in an environment completely devoid of effective human counter-cavalry, their operational utility in the field would be infinitely more devastating than a standard force of a thousand infantry! Li Qinwu immediately ordered the general assembly of his forces, transferring the entirety of their surplus ammunition reserves directly into the storage pouches of Gobu Run's unit before preparing the main host to march back to Poloia.

As the infantry columns finalized their preparations to move out, Li Qinwu walked up to Gobu Run one last time.

"If any unforeseen catastrophe occurs and you lose your tactical cohesion in the field, you are to immediately break contact and guide your survivors back to the League's primary territory. Remember—your personal safety and the preservation of your unit override all other parameters. Is there anything else you require before I depart?" Gobu Run tilted his head, calculating his tactical reserves before offering a single request: "Boss... do you have any spare demolition charges left in your inventory?"

With a flick of his wrist, Li Qinwu materialized thirty heavy demolition charges onto the grass before the rider.

"That is the absolute limit of my remaining surplus. Employ them wisely, and make every single blast count." Following the intense expenditures of the previous night, Li Qinwu's personal system stockpile had dwindled to a mere sixty demolition charges. He had split the cache cleanly down the middle—gifting thirty cylinders to Gobu Run to allow the cavalryman to orchestrate miracles in the field, while reserving the remaining thirty to serve as his final insurance policy for the defense of his home.