Chapter 123: A Different Path

The enemy is in the shadows, and we are in the open. We lack concrete intelligence on the enemy, and we are on their home turf; the hilly terrain is extremely unfavorable for cavalry or catapults. A key issue remains: these bandits actually dare to engage a regular army? This was something Kevin never anticipated.

Regardless of the outcome of this battle, even if the bandits are truly formidable and manage to crush this expeditionary force, the Thunder Knights will inevitably be shamed. It would also be a disgrace to the regular army of the Kingdom of Lobaul, necessitating the dispatch of an even more powerful force to wipe away the stain. When that time comes, they will deploy seven or eight Archmages, a dozen Sword Saints, and a million-strong army. Even without using forbidden spells, that would be enough to raze the entire Caldia Hills to the ground—or even dig them up eight feet deep.

This is the age of grand magic. If the armies of the Wise Clans wish it, they can tread across most of the continent. Not to mention the territories of low-to-mid-level magical beasts; even high-level beasts can only flee in terror. The only reason a place like the Caldia Hills still exists is to preserve a bit of its original ecology.

Kevin had considered the bandits' perspective. If he were the bandit leader and learned that a regular army was entering, the most appropriate move would be to cut off a limb to save the body. He would find a few people he disliked, send them out to be slaughtered, and have the rest hide. That way, when the regular army captures someone, they have something to show for it, and since they cannot find the others, they would conclude their mission and leave satisfied.

If such a sacrificial strategy were voiced, it would surely lose the hearts of the bandit subordinates, but it would be highly effective. The bandit leader could easily use the art of rhetoric to trick his men into throwing their lives away. The problem is that dying is also an art. A suicidal defense shouldn't provoke the enemy's hatred, yet the current situation—where four squads have lost contact—is undoubtedly a display of force intended to intimidate the staff officers.

This strikes Kevin as very strange. Are the bandits really planning to fight the regular army to the death with everything they have? Admittedly, they have obtained some technical advantages, possibly with the covert support of the Ryan Empire. But this is the heart of the Kingdom of Lobaul; even if the Ryan Empire's own regular army were here, they would never return.

Perhaps these bandits are just another group being tricked into dying on the front lines?

Kevin shook his head. As a junior officer, it is too difficult to guess the high-level strategic motives. What matters now is the battle. The catapult is too slow to chase or flee, and it is impossible to coordinate with other squads; he lacks command authority, and offering suggestions would only get him scolded. The only option left is defense.

He spread out the map. Instructions from the parrot echoed in his mind. She was by the staff officer’s side, hearing every subordinate report and every command issued, relaying everything to Kevin. Unbeknownst to anyone, Kevin had gained a nearly complete grasp of the overall situation.

Looking at the map, he traced his finger across it. It quickly became clear that the staff officer’s current deployment was merely ordering the surrounding squads to rush toward the sites of the incidents. The four squads that lost contact were, coincidentally, all on the periphery where rescue was most difficult. This was clearly intentional on the part of the bandits, indicating that they had the entire hilly region under their control.

The staff officer had originally ordered Kevin to head to Highland 225, but according to the map, if they walked without stopping, they wouldn't arrive until perhaps midnight. Who knows what might happen in that much time? Furthermore, the staff officer’s competence was not to be trusted. Once the fighting started, it was doubtful he would even remember Kevin’s catapult; he lacked the habit of commanding siege weapons and even lacked basic common sense.

However, in the military, especially during live combat, acting on one's own initiative is a major taboo, even if the action is correct. Even if the end result proved Kevin right, he would still have to return and beg for mercy. At best, his merits would cancel out his faults; at worst, he would be demoted or cashiered. If the outcome proved he was just acting recklessly, he would be executed, and it would likely implicate Stalt and Gray.

This is military discipline. No matter how clever Kevin is, if he defies orders so bluntly, it would only be "cleverness that leads to folly." But this minor issue wouldn't stump Kevin; he just needed an excuse.

"Report to the staff officer," Kevin transmitted via the bond to his parrot, "My catapult's load-bearing wheels were severely damaged during the recent combat. I request to search for a location nearby to perform repairs and maintenance."

"Can't you move?" the staff officer replied immediately. "Don't you have ten wheels? Are they all damaged?"

"Staff officer, do you know how my wheels were damaged? What does the number of wheels matter? If one wheel jams, it acts like a brake. If you don't remove that wheel, the carriage is hard to pull, and it's easy to lose control because of the speed difference between the sides." Kevin rattled off a long-winded explanation.

Kevin's parrot, a naive recruit who knew nothing of rhetoric, simply relayed every word. This infuriated the staff officer, who couldn't help but retort: "Then why don't you just take the wheel off?"

Kevin shouted back: "Do you know the tactics for catapults in the field? It’s like asking when cavalry should fight on horseback, when to use bows, when to dismount for rest, or when to let the horses graze. Do you think you can just change a wheel anywhere in a field battle? Do you know how many steps it takes to change a wheel? I don't have a spatial ring!"

On the other side, the parrot relayed the words without filtering them. The cacophony of squawking stunned everyone nearby. The staff officer’s face turned purple, and he remained silent for a long time.

Just then, another report came in: "Staff officer, Squad 2 has reached the location where Squad 5 lost contact. We found six bodies, including one communications mage and five enemy bandits."

"What about the others?" the staff officer asked anxiously.

"Currently tracking their footprints," the message returned.

"Continue the pursuit!" the staff officer ordered.

The message was synced to Kevin, who felt something was wrong. Losing five bandits just to kill a communications mage and then fleeing—this looked like a trap or bait. By leaving the troops without command, letting them wander aimlessly and fight individually, they were being picked off one by one.

To implement such a plan, killing the communications mage or the parrot is key, but the mage is undoubtedly a high-priority target. Implementing this requires paying a high price, but clearly, these bandits fear no death. Having traveled the continent, Kevin felt only fanatical religious zealots or madmen could compare to them.

The staff officer’s order also seemed inadequate. Kevin felt they should at least investigate the scene thoroughly. How did they die? What were the characteristics of the bodies? What traces were left around them? Just counting the dead? That was far too reckless.

But then again, ordinary soldiers lack the ability to analyze a post-battle scene; they basically have the skill to count bodies and categorize them. If so, the commander should have inspected the site personally, and to prevent further incidents, the squads should have been consolidated.

If these bandits have the ability to make one squad lose contact, couldn't they do the same to the investigating squad? Is this large-scale, aimless searching really useful?

Kevin had a mountain of questions, but he knew voicing them was useless. Experienced officers were nearby; it wasn't his place to speak. He should focus on himself.

"Tell the staff officer," Kevin urged his parrot again, "I have found a suitable repair spot, a cave on the hill of Highland 163."

The staff officer was busy receiving other reports and was annoyed by Kevin's constant chatter. He waved his hand, saying nothing. The parrot paused, confused, and replied: "The staff officer waved his hand; he didn't speak."

"Then we'll consider that his consent." Kevin immediately changed direction and headed toward his chosen spot.

The parrot spoke up on the other end: "Then we'll consider that his consent."

"..." Everyone on the other end, including the staff officer, looked stunned.

Stalt and Gray had no idea what was happening. Kevin and the parrot communicated without speaking. To them, Kevin just stood still for a long time, then waved his hand and said, "Let's go, we're changing locations."

"You... you aren't acting on your own, are you?" Stalt asked, feeling worried as he followed.

"How could I be?" Kevin smiled. "The staff officer agreed."

"Then what are we doing now?" Stalt asked.

"Finding a place to hunker down, building defensive fortifications, and waiting," Kevin replied.

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" Both were confused.

"Waiting for someone to attack us, or waiting for the battle to end," Kevin answered.

This is the enemy's territory. They know it like the back of their hands; wandering around will inevitably lead into an ambush. The enemy clearly has excellent command, or a mastermind behind them. To counter this and break the deadlock, one must first have a foothold of their own.

"Staff officer, our search squad has lost contact!" The bad news came just moments later and reached Kevin as well.

Kevin couldn't help but ask the parrot: "What is the staff officer's expression now?"

The parrot immediately shouted: "Staff officer! May I ask what your expression is right now?"

The staff officer's face cycled through countless expressions in an instant, and he subconsciously raised his fist. Colonel House nearby hurriedly stopped him: "This parrot is still a recruit and doesn't understand much. Its intelligence isn't quite up to standard."

"Hmph!" The staff officer snorted coldly.

Colonel House advised: "The big picture is what matters; shouldn't we ignore these details?"

"Wait!" The staff officer suddenly realized, "Does every word I say here get reported to Kevin?"

"Yes," the parrot replied loudly, "Not only does every word you say get reported to Kevin, but every fart you let out will also be reported to him. That is the order Officer Kevin gave me!"

Everyone: "..."

"You tell Kevin," the staff officer’s face was now pitch black, "if he manages to make it back to camp alive, I will definitely..."

"Staff officer!" Another parrot nearby interrupted hurriedly, "I have lost contact with my master!"

On the other side, Kevin received the full report from his parrot. Hearing the staff officer’s unfinished sentence, he found it strange but could imagine the man's rage. He hadn't realized his parrot was so blunt, but he felt the staff officer was petty and incompetent, always looking for someone to blame for his own failures. Ever since their poor first impression, Kevin couldn't see anything he liked about the man.

"Ah!" The staff officer felt like his head was going to explode. "Which squad are you?"

"Squad 20," the parrot replied.

The staff officer hurriedly checked the map again. Six out of twenty squads had lost contact, their fates unknown. What should the next move be? Where is the enemy?

"Colonel House, what are your thoughts?" At this critical moment, the staff officer couldn't afford to be proud and began asking others.

Colonel House gave a standard answer: "Individual squads are currently very dangerous. Let's merge them into pairs. That way, there will be two communications mages, making them less likely to die."

"Good!" The staff officer immediately followed this line of thinking, merging them into seven large groups, and ordered them to continue investigating the disappearance sites.

The message reached Kevin, and he became nervous. If others were pairing up, they would become harder targets, and with only three of them, they might become the next "easy meal."

"Everyone, be careful!" Kevin kept reminding them to watch their surroundings and repeated the tactics loudly: "Once you spot the enemy, Stalt, charge to the front, you hear? Gray, operate the repeating crossbow, and I'll support from the side. Don't forget."

In reality, the tactic was: once the fighting started, all three would dive under the carriage. The carriage was reinforced with hardening spells and served as decent protection. If the enemy attacked, they would likely come in a large group, and the carriage only had two small openings at the front and back, making it hard to attack. Calling out the tactic was just to deceive the enemy.

They walked and dragged the carriage, but there wasn't a single enemy in sight—they didn't even encounter any of the seven large groups. They circled the hilly area, but couldn't find anyone. They couldn't find the enemy, and they couldn't find their own people. The staff officer and the other commanders were anxious, but they had nowhere to vent their frustration.

The sky gradually darkened. The Caldia Hills at night were clearly more dangerous, with the fog growing thicker. The staff officer had to summon all seven large groups to set up camp. Meanwhile, Kevin’s group finally reached the cave he had chosen, located near the peak of Highland 163. The front slope was about 40 degrees, while the back was a vertical drop—a cliff, though only about 100 meters high. Dragging the entire catapult up there was exhausting.

The three of them carried the carriage's contents into the cave first to reduce its weight, then pushed and pulled, stopping and starting. They had to worry about the surroundings and potential bandit ambushes, never daring to exhaust themselves completely—if their hands were shaking, how could they hold a sword?

By the time the catapult was finally pulled into the cave, it was pitch black. The fog was heavy, and neither moonlight nor starlight could penetrate it; they had to light torches, or they wouldn't be able to see their own hands. Once inside the cave, it was much easier.

This "cave" was actually more like a large dirt pit. Half-natural, half-reinforced. Since humans began building city-states, they had never stopped exploring the world. These habitats of magical beasts had always been places for countless adventurers and mercenaries; some died, some lived. Some of the more generous ones would leave behind the caves they had dug or the sheds they had built, recording them so that future adventurers would have an easier time.

That was how this cave came to be, explicitly recorded in the mercenary handbook. It was said that a few years ago, during a beast frenzy, five mercenaries hid in the cave for eight days. The beasts besieged them several times but failed, eventually retreating, and they were saved.

After being saved, they lamented their hardship and decided to do good deeds, throwing some broken swords or other scrap into the cave. Although these weren't worth much, a stranded mercenary might find them and save their own life. After returning, those mercenaries called on others to follow suit—throwing in some scrap or cleaning up as they passed by, a small favor to serve those who came after them, and themselves.

The cave wasn't large, so the catapult had to be jammed at the entrance, three wheels inside and two outside. The throwing arm was blocked by the cave ceiling and couldn't be used unless the carriage was pushed out. Inside the cave, they found some broken swords and axes, as well as some rags; the humidity was high, and iron rusted easily there.

"We'll take turns on watch at night. I have a watch; two-hour shifts," Kevin lay down. "I'll sleep first, Stalt, you take the first watch, then wake me, then Gray. Don't take off your clothes, and we still have some jerky, eat it sparingly."

"Understood." The two nodded. The first watch was relatively easy; at least they wouldn't be woken up in the middle of the night as often. It seemed Kevin didn't have the heart to make them take the first watch.

"There's a shovel here," Kevin tossed it to Stalt. "Improve the fortifications around here. Once you've dug enough, it's my turn."

Gray lay on the catapult: "So, are we sleeping now? What if we can't sleep?"

"If you can't sleep, I'll knock you out," Kevin said bluntly. "If you want to live, sleep."