Chapter 338: Stalemate

After safely returning to Nagrand, Wu Qingsong found himself unable to focus on anything else. His mind was entirely occupied with one question—what had happened in the northern mountains of Orgrimmar? What was the fate of the monstrous creature that had pursued them?

But Nagrand, a young and still obscure city, had no effective means of obtaining swift updates on the latest developments.

He forced himself to focus on the present, but his thoughts kept drifting. If the Crimson Demon Lord had truly entered the surface world, what kind of destruction would it bring? And could the elves stop it?

Perhaps it was an unnecessary worry, but as someone from a modern world, Wu Qingsong found it difficult to simply concentrate on immediate tasks without considering the long-term consequences of distant events that could one day affect him.

In the end, it was Ling who noticed his growing anxiety. During one of their routine patrols, she made a decision of her own—turning south and heading into the sky.

“Ling…” Wu Qingsong said in surprise.

“It’s fine. I want to know what happened too,” Ling replied with a smile.

A hundred li from their destination, Wu Qingsong suggested switching from the aircraft to an airship, taking extra precautions to stay hidden within the clouds as they carefully approached the abyssal rift.

Long before reaching the site, they could hear the continuous sound of explosions. Wu Qingsong strained to peer through the cloud cover with his monocular, but all he could make out was that the swarming insect horde had disappeared. In their place, colossal insectoids were locked in a relentless battle against unseen opponents beyond his field of view.

The explosions tore through their bodies, even severing limbs, but from the way they moved, it was clear they had also taken down many of their enemies with claws and fiery breath.

On both sides were some of the most formidable beings Wu Qingsong had ever known in this world. Neither the insectoids nor the elves were forces he could afford to provoke.

So all he and Ling could do was watch from a distance, futilely attempting to discern the outcome of the battle.

The only certainty was that the fighting remained contained around the abyss, suggesting that the elves still maintained control. They had not disgraced their empire’s reputation.

For days, Wu Qingsong and Ling continued their covert observations—sometimes during the day, sometimes at night. Yet no matter when they arrived, the battle showed no sign of stopping.

They even witnessed the abyssal rift subjected to continuous high-powered magical bombardment, carving a deep crater into the mountain. But despite this, the crimson glow persisted, radiating from the ever-widening fissure, and new insectoids continued to emerge.

Day after day, the battle played out the same way, turning this site into an arena where the two forces tested their endurance and strength. Wu Qingsong had no idea how many elves had perished, but based on his scattered observations, at least three or four hundred of the monstrous creatures that had chased them had been slain. Their bodies either tumbled into the abyss or piled up around the rift, only to be reduced to dust by the next wave of magical attacks.

Gradually, Wu Qingsong began to feel that his surveillance was meaningless.

For the first time, he truly felt the weight of his own powerlessness. He didn’t even dare move closer.

Watching the dazzling explosions of magic below, he couldn’t help but feel fortunate. If they had stayed instead of fleeing—if the Silver Moon Wolf Clan had not been forced out of the Tecks Mountains by the Sentalus—none of them would have survived such a battlefield.

Eventually, he reduced the frequency of his visits. Bit by bit, he diverted his energy toward matters he could actually influence. In time, he stopped caring about that place entirely.

For Nagrand, the most immediate impact was the temporary halt in smuggling operations due to the ongoing battle. The skilled craftsmen Red Moon had promised were also delayed.

Even Ram accepted the delay. With such a massive conflict unfolding in the region, disruptions to surrounding cities and trade routes were inevitable. Only after the battle reached its conclusion could things return to normal.

Meanwhile, Nagrand continued expanding, with new farmlands being cultivated.

To their delight, Phia’s specially cultivated golden alfalfa had survived the winter’s cold. The moment spring arrived, it eagerly sprouted from beneath the lingering snow. Encouraged by this, Ram immediately increased the planned cultivation area several times over.

At the same time, Morin’s missionary efforts grew bolder and more confident.

Mousekin and rabbitkin preachers spread their teachings along the western shores of the Glacial Sea, venturing deep into the plains. The mousekin, who had spent the entire winter hiding in burrows, were now cautiously emerging in search of food.

However, to Morin’s and the young preachers’ surprise, these distant kin did not immediately embrace the faith of Xuanyuan. Instead, they showed only feigned enthusiasm, greedily accepting anything the priests offered and promptly hiding it away. As for the actual sermons, they paid them no mind.

In contrast, they were exceedingly cautious and deferential toward the canine and wolfkin guards accompanying the preachers. In the end, it was only under the impatient gazes of these escorts that they begrudgingly agreed to join the church, wearing the Wu-character medallion of faith around their necks. Even then, it took persistent urging from the guards before they reluctantly attended the weekly sermons—pulled away from their relentless pursuit of food.

In truth, their behavior was no different from the hostile tribes that had resisted the faith.

Their passive resistance—an almost calculated refusal to engage—was, in some ways, even more frustrating for the missionaries than the outright scorn of the bearkin and wolfkin.

It left them feeling dejected.

But Alice saw things differently.

“They have simply suffered too much misfortune,” she told the missionaries. “They have grown numb. They no longer believe in anything we say, nor do they dare to hope for the future. But if we can show them that real change is possible, they will become our most devoted believers.”

Encouraged by her words, the missionaries redoubled their efforts. They continued spreading the glory of Xuanyuan to every community they encountered, offering aid wherever they could.

Yet the response they received remained unchanged.