110. Besieged

As Mo Fei and Irene descended from the mines in low spirits, the elven scouts he had dispatched returned in haste. The news they brought left Mo Fei astonished: an army of over one hundred thousand was marching toward the docks, their formation clearly indicating the harbor as their target.

Upon hearing this, Mo Fei hurried back to the docks with Irene and her companions. He realized that the strangers spotted nearby in recent days were not mere passersby, but scouts for the approaching force.

Back at the docks, Mo Fei immediately sounded the alarm. All defensive personnel rushed to their designated stations. The long-range heavy ballistae on the wooden walls were drawn and loaded, and the five thousand Berserkers also mounted their heavy crossbows along the ramparts. Only then did the ten thousand Bear-kin soldiers realize they seemed to have no role to play.

Seeing the Bear-kin soldiers glancing about, clearly at a loss, Mo Fei understood their predicament. He promptly ordered a team of dwarven masters—who were in charge of logistics—to bring up the heavy javelins he had commissioned. He turned to the Bear-kin and said, "In a moment, you will use these."

These semi-iron javelins were significantly heavier than the ones the Bear-kin were accustomed to, which had only iron tips. Their sheer weight, combined with the momentum of being thrown from a height, would allow them to inflict massive damage on the enemy.

The moment the Bear-kin soldiers took hold of the javelins, their spirits soared. Having undergone training, they had long felt their original weapons were flimsy and lacked impact. These semi-iron weapons felt substantial and powerful. Their fighting spirit ignited instantly; each soldier was determined to outdo the Berserkers' crossbows and prove themselves as the primary force in long-range combat.

Mo Fei had prepared these weapons long ago but had hesitated to issue them. It was a selfish precaution; had there been no war, he would never have distributed them, fearing that if he ever had to cross blades with the Bear-kin, these very weapons might be turned against his own men.

As it turned out, Mo Fei’s worries were unfounded. Given the Bear-kin’s limited manufacturing capabilities, they could only produce spears with iron tips. To ask them to forge semi-iron javelins would be like asking them to sell their own livelihood. The Bear-kin lacked the economic strength; in their own territory, they were unable to establish a unified tax policy. Relying solely on the income from a few major cities, they could barely afford decent armor for their elite soldiers. This was likely why they sought to raid Mo Fei’s continent—their soldiers’ mismatched iron armor and varied weapons were clearly the spoils of such raids.

In the Bear-kin’s homeland, the economy relied on barter, which made taxation nearly impossible. You could hardly tell a man trading a piece of roasted meat for a pelt that he owed half the meat and half the hide in taxes.

Elder Warton, currently in Storm City, was also driven to distraction. He finally understood why Elder Oufu had been so quick to hand over the management of the city to him. From the day the dwarf smithy opened, locals had arrived with all manner of bizarre items to trade for bows and blades. The dwarven masters were stunned to see locals bringing hunks of meat, animal pelts, and even live magical beasts, asking what they could trade for. Elder Oufu had never mentioned this when he sent them here to develop the city. Were they expected to run a ranch? And the roasted or smoked meat left them utterly vexed; they had no idea how to trade for it, and if they did, they would never finish eating it all.

Under these circumstances, Warton, like Elder Oufu, placed the implementation of a gold-coin currency system on the agenda. Once decided, he acted. With strong support from the Goldstone Empire, countless gold coins were shipped to Storm City. Warton began to systematically purchase goods from the locals using gold, then shipped those goods back to their own continent to sell. Fortunately, the people there were curious about the items from this continent, and with Warton’s reasonable pricing, the shipments were always sold out instantly. This success made the transition to a gold-based economy on Demon Island progress smoothly. Years later, Storm City became the trading hub of the continent, effectively controlling its economy. Since Storm City owed taxes to no one, the dwarves thrived, and the Goldstone Empire was equally delighted.

Back at the docks, facing an enemy force of over one hundred thousand, Mo Fei felt anxious. Not knowing the strength of his opponent, it would have been strange if he weren't nervous.

As expected, the massive army reached the vicinity of the docks and fanned out, completely surrounding the harbor. Seeing that they had not split their forces to guard their rear, Mo Fei realized they were unaware of his thirty-five thousand troops stationed outside. This realization put him much more at ease.

A figure, appearing to be an enemy commander, rode a magical beast up to the moat and shouted, "Foreigners! Surrender and hand over all your belongings! Our leader may allow you to leave safely. Otherwise, once we attack, you will have no way out."

"So, after all that, they’re just after our weapons and equipment?" Mo Fei chuckled.

It turned out that the army Mo Fei had encountered earlier was the very force now invading. After returning, they had reported everything they saw to their chieftain. The descriptions of the outsiders' weapons and armor had enticed him. Thinking that there could only be a few of these foreigners, he sent his hundred-thousand-strong army, assuming they would obediently hand over their treasures and retreat.

This continent had been ravaged by years of war, and its industry was backward. Weapons were often discarded after a single battle, and long-range armaments were non-existent. In combat, they relied on ferocity to intimidate the enemy, followed by the rapid mobility of their cavalry to strike the rear guard. They were experts in large-scale maneuvering, a necessity dictated by their style of warfare.

Because of the constant state of conflict, no proper cities remained; no one had the time to build high walls. By the time one side captured a location, another would arrive to attack. Slowly, the mobility and adaptability of these armies had improved. War had taught them that the higher one's flexibility, the greater the army's resilience and survival rate. Consequently, they lost the ability to conduct sieges. Since there were no fortified cities, they would simply capture a place, pillage it, and hide the loot in their own strongholds, never having the time to put the resources to use.

Curiously, they maintained an unspoken agreement not to attack each other's home bases—perhaps due to heavy defenses or the fear of retaliation. As a result, wars on this continent mostly occurred in mining districts or temporary settlements. Strangely, they treated their loot like sacred treasures. At some point, the continent had descended into chaos, and industry had ground to a halt; crafts like shipbuilding and metallurgy gradually vanished, leaving tribal smiths capable of forging only the simplest of weapons.

Mo Fei had been worrying for nothing.

However, if this hundred-thousand-strong force were to charge, he feared being trampled into mud.

"Mages, prepare! Do not let them fill the moat with debris! Long-range ballistae, focus on killing the enemy officers. Bear-kin, throw your javelins into the dense crowds. Rapid-fire crossbows, target the soldiers as they approach. Now, you," Mo Fei patted a Berserker holding a heavy crossbow, "take that fellow down for me."

"Understood!" The Berserker raised his heavy crossbow, aimed at the man who was still shouting below, and pulled the trigger. A bolt tore through the air, piercing accurately into the throat of the loudmouth.

Clutching the heavy shaft, the commander looked up at Mo Fei and the others on the wooden wall in disbelief before slowly collapsing. His panicked mount turned and bolted before he even hit the ground, dragging his body and leaving a shocking trail of blood behind.

Seeing their leader fall, the chieftain of the invading army raised his scimitar high and let out a roar. A vast wave of warriors surged forward, screaming like a rising tide.