Chương 79: 79：Eradicate the Rogue Orcs

Soren stood with his hands behind his back. As a former commander who had coordinated modern special warfare, he understood the weight of Kyle's words better than anyone. Iron was the long-term path for the territory's development—it was its very lifeblood! It wasn't just the heavy infantry needing thicker, full-coverage black iron armor, or the second-line infantry needing black iron half-plate. Looking across the entire territory, serving hot porridge required dozens of large iron cauldrons.

The Direwolf Riders cultivating Swamp Tubers needed hundreds of sturdy iron plowshares. Even the damp-proof foundations of the suspended treehouses required iron nails for reinforcement. What aspect of the territory's growth could possibly survive without iron? However, conducting large-scale geological excavation in acidic quagmires filled with highly toxic miasma was simply too difficult. The current Greywater Village completely lacked the personnel and tools for such an endeavor.

Soren turned his head and patted Kyle's shoulder.

"You're absolutely right. This is our Achilles' heel."

"I am officially placing the search for iron ore on our priority strategic agenda."

"I will personally look for an opportunity to completely open up this logistical lifeline. As for our current iron shortage... the orcs have plenty of it, and they'll be delivering it right to our doorstep." …… Evening fell. Torrential rain poured down, smashing against the wooden barricades of Greywater Village's defensive walls with a relentless rat-a-tat. Inside the wooden command cabin nestled in the ancient tree. Soren had just returned from drilling the troops.

Before he could even pour himself a cup of hot water, Gary, the scouting captain who had been lurking on the perimeter on patrol, violently threw open the cabin's door flap.

"My Lord! Something's happened!" The stealth master, usually frighteningly calm, was currently clutching two torn, blood-soaked pieces of coarse cloth. His eyes were bloodshot, and his teeth ground together audibly.

"Report," Soren commanded.

"It's Old Tom! And thirteen-year-old Little Jack!" Gary's voice was so hoarse it cracked.

"A poison-spot blight broke out in the newly reclaimed farmland. Uncle Kyle urgently needed Blue-stemmed Grass for the herb rations. Old Tom and Little Jack figured they knew the outer terrain well, so they volunteered to take a shortcut to the edge of the Withered Bone Heights to gather the herbs."

"But... at the Withered Bone Heights, they ran into a band of rogue orcs..." Gary violently slammed the two bloody pieces of cloth onto the wooden table. Clinging to the fabric were chunks of flesh that had been savagely bitten off!

"By the time Meyer and I heard the commotion and rushed over, it was already too late..." Gary's knees gave out, and he crashed heavily onto the wooden floorboards.

"Those animals! They stole all the herbs and even stripped their clothes!"

"They didn't just kill them with a quick blade, instead... instead, right in front of Old Tom, they gnawed Little Jack's legs off while he was still alive!"

"They were eaten alive, bite by bite! After those greenskins had their fill, they took the half-eaten skeletons of Old Tom and the boy as trophies, hanging them upside down with iron hooks right on the most conspicuous spiked totem in the Withered Bone Heights!" BOOM! Outside the window, a pale flash of lightning tore through the gloomy sky, casting terrifying shadows across Soren's face. Clang!

At this moment, several veterans who had just brought Soren the battle reports, along with Quartermaster Fina Hawthorne who was walking in with a bowl of medicine, all heard Gary's blood-weeping report. The porcelain bowl in Fina's hands slipped and shattered on the floor. The news spread like wildfire. The entirety of Greywater Village absolutely erupted!

"Kill them! Flay those beasts alive!"

"Just a few days ago, the Lord erected a monument for our fallen brothers. Greywater Village doesn't abandon its own! Even if it costs us our lives today, we have to snatch back the bones of Old Tom and Little Jack!" Beneath the wooden treehouse, over a hundred villagers and soldiers clutching black iron spears and short javelins roared in fury through the torrential rain, their eyes crimson! Listening to the blazing indignation below, Soren simply rose slowly from his chair.

His right hand incrementally curled around the hilt of his longsword at his waist. Whoever dares touch the people under my wing, I will annihilate their entire bloodline!

"Where did this band of orcs come from?" Soren's voice betrayed not a hint of anger, but those familiar with him knew that this unnatural calm meant his killing intent had reached a boiling point. Gary raised his head, wiping the bloody rainwater from his face, and quickly reported: If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"My Lord, they aren't the regular army under Warchief Blackstone. That is a rogue orc camp located in the Withered Bone Heights!"

"This bandit group numbers around two hundred, led by a formidable orc boss named Gul, who wields twin cartwheel-sized battleaxes!"

"They are inherently undisciplined deserters who refused to obey the commands of the Blackstone Warband camp and ran off to claim the hills as kings!"

"These rogue orcs are thoroughly evil! Their methods are a hundred times more brutal than the regular army of the Orc Alliance!"

"The regular army slaughters to conquer cities, but Gul and his animals take pure pleasure in disemboweling people and listening to human screams!"

"They've entrenched themselves in the Withered Bone Heights all year round, making a living specifically by robbing and killing weak human refugees trying to flee from the Silvermoon Kingdom, as well as isolated members of other weaker races."

"Old Tom and the boy were treated as their prey and eaten!" The instant Gary finished his report. Deep within Soren's mind. [Ding!] [Warlord System!] [Mission Directive: Eradicate the rogue orcs of the Withered Bone Heights and execute their leader, Gul.] [Mission Reward 1: Advancement of [Eagle Eye Perception].] [Mission Reward 2: Bestowal of Talent [Hardened Skin] (Grants 70% immunity to conventional sword and blade slashes).] Feeling the generous rewards popping up in his mind, the cold gleam in Soren's eyes intensified. On one hand, it was to exact vengeance for the territory's civilians he had sworn to protect. On the other hand, the advancement of [Eagle Eye Perception] would be a qualitative leap for his archery skills, and [Hardened Skin] was a top-tier life-saving talent. Blood feuds, the territory's safety, and the System's rewards. Everything pointed to a single word! KILL!

Soren strode to the window and threw the wooden shutters open, letting the raging wind and rain batter his body. He looked down at the hundreds of pairs of eyes burning with fury below.

"Old Tom and Little Jack's lives will not be lost in vain!"

"I will use the heads of those two hundred greenskins as burial offerings for them!" Soren abruptly spun around, slamming down his military orders:"Gary!"

"Here, My Lord!"

"Dry your tears! Take your brother Meyer! I want you to infiltrate the Withered Bone Heights right now!"

"Find out exactly how many sentries they have, the shift-change times for their patrol routes, and even how many piles of combustible hay are in their camp. I want to know it all inside and out!"

"We must know our enemy and know ourselves! We either don't strike at all, or when we do, we leave absolutely nothing alive on those heights!"

"Understood!" Gary and his brother Meyer vaulted directly out the wooden window, disappearing into the heavy curtain of rain and mist. …… Early the next morning. Near the Withered Bone Heights, on a hidden trade route covered in gravel and thick mud. This was a dead-end road that the vast majority of humans dared not tread. Geographically speaking, the Withered Bone Heights were actually very far from the core hinterlands of the Misty Swamp; it sat perfectly wedged on the absolute fringe of the marsh.

When humans fled into the Misty Swamp seeking a way to survive, they endured starvation and freezing temperatures along the way. Weakened and entirely devoid of supplies by the time they found a glimmer of hope, they simply lacked the stamina to continue deeper into the unfathomable depths of the swamp. Therefore, the vast majority of the human refugee settlements established while clinging to life in the marsh were forced to cluster in these fringe areas.

Soren's Greywater Village, the Ironwood Fortress, and the main encampment of the Crimson Moon Knights were all rooted in the outskirts, none of them venturing deep into the Misty Swamp. And these fringes not only had thinner toxic miasma, but because they were far from the watchful eyes of the kingdom's border guards, they had become an utterly lawless no-man's-land filled with black-market trades! At this moment.

A massive transport convoy, consisting of twelve heavy four-wheeled covered wagons, was painfully trudging forward, its wheels crunching loudly over the gravel. The escorts for this convoy all wore unmarked black cloaks. Not only were they equipped with excellent chainmail, but the heavy crossbows in their hands were already knocked and drawn. Their eyes radiated a ruthless decisiveness that was normally only seen in the royal regular army.

"Hurry up! We need to cross the Withered Bone Heights before the heavy fog rolls in! Lord Alaric specifically ordered that this shipment be delivered to the contact on the other side right on schedule!" The bearded human captain leading the group impatiently whipped the draft horses, striking them fiercely.