Chapter 245: The Cat-and-Mouse Game (Part 4)

“See that? He’s completely lost his cool now,” Wu Qingsong said with a grin.

The elven mage was furiously hurling fireballs into the forest, venting his frustration. Wu Qingsong was filled with a sense of satisfaction. It was as if the exhaustion weighing on both his body and mind had completely lifted.

Daryl looked at Wu Qingsong with admiration, feeling a sudden resurgence of confidence.

By the time the elf and his eagle appeared at the cliff, Wu Qingsong had already commanded his zombies to wipe out at least a third of the soldiers in the camp. As soon as the elf arrived, Wu pulled back all his zombies, leaving only three or four hundred corpses to continue wearing down the soldiers’ morale, stamina, and the mage’s mana reserves.

Although the elf hadn’t used magic nonstop, he had been hovering around the battlefield the entire morning. Wu Qingsong didn’t believe that these elves, who had lived in luxury at the empire’s highest echelon for hundreds of years, possessed unbreakable willpower. A day or two more of this, and that elf’s spirit would likely crumble completely.

Even if the mage managed to hold out, once that eagle of his was exhausted, the tides of battle would surely turn.

“Keep an eye on him. I’m going to sleep for a while,” Wu Qingsong said. “Wake me as soon as he heads back.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this!” Daryl responded quickly.

Ling simply nodded, continuing to carve hearts from the ghost cypress tree while training her mental strength.

After running himself ragged for two days straight, Wu Qingsong quickly fell into a deep sleep. 

Liuli, bored out of her mind, sat beside Ling and joined Daryl in peering through the grass at the activity in the distant forest.

“These people are so dumb,” Liuli couldn’t help but say.

Just like earlier that morning, the soldiers nervously searched for the undead hidden around the camp after a bout of chaos.

“It’s not that they’re dumb,” Daryl shook his head.

Wu Qingsong’s approach might seem simple, but it was undeniably effective. Of course, that was largely due to the fact that he controlled thousands of tireless, fearless undead who followed orders without hesitation and fought with relentless tenacity.

As Daryl observed the soldiers’ behavior earlier in the day, he had wondered what the outcome would have been if he had led the wolfmen in a similar kind of harassing warfare.

They certainly wouldn’t have been able to achieve such significant results every time, nor could they have marched through the night or fought endlessly without rest. But, with their intimate knowledge of these forests, if they had understood this kind of guerrilla tactic from the start—working in teams of four or five, carefully avoiding the elves, and using weapons like firebombs to constantly harass the soldiers at night—what would have happened?

Earlier, Wu Qingsong had casually demonstrated a simple catapult for him. It was a basic device, easily made with elastic wood and some rope. It wasn’t accurate, but it was more than enough for harassment.

If only they had known about these things from the start.

Thinking about this, Daryl couldn’t help but glance at Wu Qingsong. 

‘If only he had taught us these things earlier.’ 

Of course, Daryl knew deep down that Wu Qingsong had already helped them a lot by cooperating with the Silvermoon Wolf Clan in the past, and he had no obligation to risk his life to help them now.

But still, when he thought of all the wolfpeople who had died under the enemy’s blade, he couldn’t stop that thought from creeping into his mind.

“That guy went back!” Liuli suddenly said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Instinctively, Daryl glanced at Ling. He noticed her expression was anything but pleased. However, she didn’t stop him, so he carefully nudged Wu Qingsong. 

“Wu, Wu? Wake up, that guy flew back.”

Wu Qingsong hadn’t fallen into a deep sleep, so he woke quickly. He blinked in confusion for a few seconds before regaining his awareness.

“What’s the situation now?”

“That guy just flew back.”

“Alright then.” 

Wu Qingsong stretched a bit to shake off the fatigue, then once again commanded the scattered undead that he had hidden throughout the forest to regroup.

***

“Dafflin’s regiment has…,” one of the adjutants started to say in surprise, but another quickly nudged him, forcing him to swallow the rest of his words.

Everyone could tell that Lord Raman was already on the verge of losing his temper. Announcing that Dafflin’s regiment had sent another emergency signal barely ten minutes after he had just returned would likely result in him launching a fireball straight at the messenger.

But Raman had already heard him. He stormed out of his tent in a fury, glaring hatefully at the lingering purple smoke in the sky. He trembled with rage.

“That damned piece of trash! Vermin! A maggot in a dung heap!” 

He couldn’t help but curse aloud, leaving the servants nervously trailing behind him wide-eyed in shock.

“Raman,” Rodrick interjected.

He felt a bit of sympathy for his companion. For an elf to lose his composure like this was unheard of. 

“Get some rest, I’ll handle it from here.”

Raman, however, said nothing. He stood there, staring at the signal, his anger boiling.

Rodrick didn’t have the ability to control a giant eagle. These proud creatures were rare and bred slowly. As birds of prey, their carrying capacity was quite limited. While they could easily carry a lean, lightly armored mage, there was no way they could bear the weight of a heavily built battle mage. Moreover, Raman’s eagle was already exhausted and had begun to show signs of frustration.

When they had initially chosen this location, they had valued its strategic vantage point, allowing them to oversee the movements of the forces below with ease. However, this also meant that they were quite a distance away from those areas.

While flying straight on a giant eagle took only a few minutes, riding a war wolf or a horse down to the base of the cliff alone took two hours. Reaching the attacked regiment would take at least half a day. By that time, the regiment that had sent the distress signal would already have been wiped out by the undead.

“Despicable, vile scum!” Raman cursed again, completely unconcerned about his now shattered composure.

If the enemy had defeated him in a direct confrontation, he might not have been so enraged. But the opponent was like a damned insect. Never confronting him directly, never meeting him face-to-face. Instead, they mercilessly slaughtered weak ordinary soldiers from the shadows.

“We can’t keep letting him lead us by the nose,” Raman suddenly snapped out of his anger. “Rodrick, we have to force him out! We can’t keep letting him fight when he wants and retreat whenever he pleases. We need to force this wretched scum to show himself.”

“We have to take back the initiative!” he shouted. “You, send the signal now! Order all regiments to begin moving.”