"Deputy Commander Wenren Zheng is leading the right flank army alone, commanding one hundred thousand war soldiers and eighty thousand auxiliary soldiers, advancing northwest to attack the Briss Duchy."
"I will lead the central army, with Ye Jingfu and Luo Jing continuing as deputy commanders. The Savage Killing Army, combined with forty thousand war soldiers and sixty thousand auxiliary soldiers, will march due west to attack the Sefren Country."
This division plan was determined after discussions between Li Fei and Wenren Zheng.
Li Fei almost had no experience in leading armies, so both governors remained in the central army to help him lead.
The peak combat strength of the three armies must be evenly distributed.
With the power of Li Fei and Wenren Zheng, they could fully be responsible for an entire route on their own.
Wang Chengze, along with two ten-thousand-level Imperial Camp Armies, can also handle various situations.
However, the Western Garrison Army, lacking a military Taoist marshal-level leader, couldn't initiate a ten-thousand-level formation and could only be divided into two five-thousand-level formations.
Although these five-thousand-level formations can also consolidate Taoism and possess peak combat power, when faced with a true peak expert, their "blood bar" is too short, and they won't last long before the formation breaks.
Nevertheless, these five-thousand-level formations are just right when facing the prince of the Western Continent.
Wang Chengze's joy was evident after hearing about this appointment.
He would lead an entire army by himself, and even has a chance to achieve the feat of destroying a nation!
Even though Kalan Duchy is not one of the three major powers, such achievements are enough to allow the Wang family to enjoy a century of glory!
After Li Fei laid out the army's deployment, Wenren Zheng supplemented with specific details.
For example, the management of more than two hundred ships, the allocation of large flying escape magic tools, the precise marching routes, and how to transport logistical supplies...
Li Fei was completely ignorant about these military affairs, so he just sat and watched Wenren Zheng perform.
The meeting went on until late at night.
By the next morning, the West Expedition Army had split into three routes, embarking on their journey of conquest!
...
In the heartland of the Sefren Country, there is a small town named Kolon.
The flames of war have yet to reach here, but panic has seeped silently into every inch of land and heart like the autumn frost.
The panic stems from those suffocating rumors continuously arriving from the east, from the direction of the coastline.
They spread stealthily like a plague, carried by sporadic deserters, fleeing merchants, and scattered official whispers.
Kolon Town shrinks in a hollow at the bend of a murky creek, where low wooden and stone houses crowd together.
The place isn't particularly developed; the town's sole noble is a baron who has fallen on hard times.
In the town's only little tavern, a drunken man with a thick riverport accent and a face flushed red hammered the greasy table, spitting as he described his firsthand experiences:
"I'm telling you! That moon! Damn it, wasn't hanging in the sky; it shot up BOOM from the sea bottom!
That light could burn your eyes blind! And that evil god! He was standing right on the moon!
Damned coast defense cannons? Hundreds of them! Not even a 'pop' could be heard when they fired!'
Warships? They melted like paper boats, gone in a blink! Gone! Do you understand?!"
His words were incoherent, lacking in logic, causing those around to frown repeatedly.
Some began to doubt the truth of the drunkard's story; after all, it sounded too much like drunken talk.
An evil god standing on the moon?
What nonsense!
Then, Old Blacksmith Hank's rough, metallic shout overshadowed the drunkard's nonsense.
Hank spat a phlegm ball on the ground with a thump, the veins on his face, blackened by years of being exposed to forge fire, stood out prominently:
"My nephew ran back from the front line! He told me himself, someone walked on a moon over the sea, then threw it at the coastline!"
He swung his sturdy arm with a gust of wind, "Just one throw, then BOOM, the coastline disappeared! People, cannons, ships, all evaporated!
"Is that human? That's a... that's a..."
Old Blacksmith struggled with his words, and ultimately could only curse fiercely:
"That's a walking cataclysm! Do you hear me?!"
Hank's words carried a painful sense of reality, more convincing than the drunkard's ravings.
The more he said, the thicker and more stagnant the air in the tavern became, leaving only the slight crackle of the oil lamp's wick burning and the sound of heavy breathing.
People began to grow tense.
If the enemy were equally powerful armies using more advanced weapons, the people of Sefren would not lack the courage to resist!
Worst case, they would wear out the enemy, resort to guerrilla warfare!
Sefren Country has stood on this continent for over six hundred years, weathering countless trials and tribulations, it won't easily fall!
But if the enemy is an evil god who can obliterate hundreds of thousands of troops with a mere gesture, a walking humanoid catastrophe.
How can one resist that?
Although the flames of war have not yet spread here, the effects of war have already permeated every crevice of people's lives.
Every day, long queues form in front of the town's only grocery store.
The numbers on the price tag jump up by a distressing notch each day.
The price of black bread has tripled, and a small bag of coarse salt has become a luxury.
The shopkeeper shouts loudly every day:
"The roads are all blocked by fleeing soldiers and refugees! Grain caravans? Not a ghost of one! Buy if you want!"
The small, stone-built Saint Master Church in the town is likewise crammed every day.
Uneasy people can only go there to pray, hoping the flames of war won't reach here, praying that their family members on the front line stay safe.
"Shouldn't it be safe here?"
Someone mutters quietly in the tavern.
Kolon Town is located in the heart of Sefren Country, less than 200 kilometers in a straight line from the Royal Capital.
Sefren Country is one of the three major powers of the Western Continent.
In the past few hundred years, even when Sefren Country went to war with other countries, despite intense fighting, the flames of war have never reached here.
"Damn it, hope so."
Hank curses, then gulps down some liquor.
The rest in the tavern also start gulping down drinks, trying to numb their already taut nerves.
...
West Continent Calendar 926, November 27.
That afternoon, the weather was unusually muggy, not a breath of wind, and heavy clouds pressed low over Kolon Town, like a giant, water-soaked gray rag.
Hans was sweating profusely in the backyard, chopping the last few logs.
He was one of the eighty thousand captured by Li Fei.
After Li Fei let them go, Hans chose not to return to his troops.
Having witnessed the earth-shattering explosion and Li Fei's god-like power firsthand, he lacked the courage to continue resisting.
So Hans chose to return to his hometown Kolon, staying with his family, filled with unease and guilt.
After all, the front lines wouldn't miss one person like him.
It's so close to the Royal Capital; surely nothing will happen.
Sefren Country is one of the three great powers; it will surely have a way.
Suddenly, a rapid and frantic sound of hoofbeats approached, tearing through the town's oppression.
Then the changed, hoarse scream of the postman Old Vincent, like a stabbed eunuch chicken, pierced through every door and window of the town:
"They're coming! They're coming—! Run quickly—! The evil god is coming! The killings are coming—!!"
The mournful cry was like an icy blade, brutally piercing through the barely maintained calm of Kolon Town.
The entire town was instantly activated by this desperate shout, shattering the dead silence, replaced by a boiling chaos—
The sound of doors slamming shut, women's fearful screams, children crying frantically in terror, men's anxious and panicked commands... All sorts of sounds mixed together, forming an apocalyptic symphony of chaos.
Hans's ax clanged onto the wooden stake by his foot, numbing his grip.
He sat down on the ground, his heart squeezed by a cold giant hand, stopping momentarily before pounding furiously, thumping against his ribs.
The Bright Moon radiating silver light, the billowing smoke, the earth-shattering explosion... and that divine-like figure overlooking all beings.
The fear Hans had been repressing suddenly erupted!
"How long has it been?"
He turned to look toward the outskirts of the town.
It had been less than two months since the battle on the coastline.
The enemy is about to reach the Royal Capital already?
"Is Sefren Country... doomed?"
The deepest despair descended.
...