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When they arrived at the eerie flower field, Uncle Tian raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop and take a short break.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
His muffled voice echoed in the communication channel shared by the new recruits.
"This is one of the very few bits of color in this damned Abyss Battlefield."
"These... flowers?" Harry squinted at the strange sea of blossoms. Once he pushed past the physical and psychological revulsion they provoked, the colorful expanse did carry a kind of—well, no, even then, beautiful still wasn't quite the right word.
"Uncle Tian... that Eldritch taste of yours is, uh, distinctive, huh?"
Harry let out a dry chuckle, his lips twitching slightly under the helmet.
"Eldritch?" Uncle Tian paused for a moment, then seemed to catch on. "This is where that stuff originated, you know. Remember my second uncle's psychic tentacles? The photorealistic ones? Yeah, they came from the Abyss. Your first reaction to this place might not be appreciation—but just wait, you'll see."
Uncle Tian patted Harry on the shoulder and then announced the end of the break.
"All units, regroup. Prepare for battle."
The team quickly reassembled and began setting up the battlefield. Most battles against the demons weren't straightforward close-quarter skirmishes. While spellcasters found their magic restricted in this realm, it still remained an invaluable asset.
Non-concealed demons could usually be detected from dozens of kilometers away by the mages, who would then prepare terrain-advantaged battlegrounds and lure the enemy in. Only through this kind of calculated slaughter could they hope to match the demons' terrifying rate of reproduction. The timing of demonic tides was calculated and managed, not just by human planning, but also due to the inherent difficulty of completely exterminating demons.
A custom bait charge detonated. After centuries of war against the demons, mages had perfected the calibration of magical bait. If it was meant to attract a demon force fifteen kilometers away, it wouldn't draw the attention of those sixteen kilometers off. Within just over ten minutes of the sweet magic scent spreading, the rumble of marching feet echoed from the distance.
A demon force of over three thousand surged forward like sharks smelling blood. Although demons weren't mindless beasts—those ranked at or above centurion were quite clever—the centurions weren't exactly the caring-leader type either. They hungered for promotion to the rank of commander, and the deaths of lesser demons could fuel their ascension. If a few cannon fodder could take down a spellcaster or two before dying, all the better.
The three demon centurions leading the charge were well aware it was a trap—but wasn't there always the chance they'd flip the trap on its head?
Unlike the "overcharged bait" Harry had encountered during his first battle, the magic in this bait charge wasn't enough to send high-ranking demons into a frenzy. The centurions held their ground at the rear, letting their fodder fall first, so they could feast on the residual mana and keep watch on the battlefield—ready to unleash a lethal, venomous strike at any moment.
Over ten thousand strong, endless and overwhelming, the demonic army surged like a tidal wave. In contrast, their thirty-person squad looked like a lone leaf in a storm, vulnerable to being swallowed whole at any moment.
A target marker round screeched through the air, and a crimson glow instantly highlighted the demons' vital weak points.
"How many years has it been?" Uncle Tian's voice crackled with excitement over the comms. "Since I came to this godforsaken place, not once have I had the chance to really let my fists fly."
"Brothers, enjoy yourselves today—but don't go overboard."
"If you break something you shouldn't, there won't be a whole corpse left to bury, ha."
Uncle Tian patted the armored beast beneath him—a mighty Iron-Eating Beast clad in full plating. The squad of twenty-one Pandaren heavy cavalry snapped into formation.
But unlike ordinary cavalry, each Pandaren gripped a staff like a steel pillar—bamboo-shaped, an extension of their arms. Man and weapon moved as one.
"Your first lesson today—Endurance Warfare," Uncle Tian's steady voice echoed once more, this time addressed directly to the combat squad. "I've watched your fighting. At best, you've barely scratched the surface. You're a long way from graduation. Real combat will be your best teacher."
"On the Abyss Battlefield, it's not just about learning how to take down these stone-headed monsters. It's about maximizing output with minimal effort. Manpower is finite. Every Abyss-cleansing unit must face enemies ten times, even a hundred times, their number. Like what we're seeing today—every punch you throw, every bullet you fire, increases your chances of survival."
"Once you're away from the fortress base, there's no supply line. Mana becomes your most vital combat resource."
"Don't let yourselves drown in cannon fodder, kids. Stay behind us and clean up the stragglers."
"The rest of you, with me—crush those stone skulls!"
His steel-forged bamboo staff pointed forward, and the armored behemoths beneath them thundered into motion. The iron-eating war beasts, impatient for the charge, accelerated from zero to top speed in under a second. These creatures, capable of grappling with a fully grown Frost Tyrant, now charged with the ferocity of dragon-hunters. The rocky red-gray earth shattered underfoot as the armored bears unleashed their brutal might, tearing into the chaotic demon ranks for the first time.
In the same moment that steel-shod paws tore through air and enormous bamboo staves swept in devastating arcs, the demon formation—dense as castle walls—collapsed like tofu. Demons struck by overwhelming force were sent flying hundreds of meters, shattering into fragments mid-air. And in this moment, where they didn't have to fear being drained of mana by close-quarters contact—
—these Pandaren physical cultivators, honed to the peak of bodily perfection, became nightmares on the Abyss Battlefield. In an instant, the massive demon formation was torn into dozens of scattered remnants. The prey had been cleanly divided.
Precision was for those dainty biu-biu types. As warriors who refined their bodies with mana to their absolute limit—
Who needed vital points?
Just one blow—everything breaks. No need for critical strikes. The entire enemy is a weak spot!
Crushed arrowheads rained through the demon ranks, but the five-man combat squad that entered the battlefield just behind the charge found little reason to laugh.
Up until now, their missions had focused on decapitation—targeted assassinations of demon centurions and above. But this was their first time facing the inevitable, overwhelming tides of the Abyss: the classic scenario of few versus many. Sure, demon fodder was expendable—but too many ants can still kill an elephant.
"Captain, what do we—"
"Qiu, take the high ground. The fodder can evolve at any moment. You're in charge of contingencies."
"Understood." Qiu's winged composite weapon unfolded, transforming into a precision rapid-fire rifle.
"Phoenix, Cedric—reshape the terrain. You're on flanks."
Harry deployed his collapsible tower shield and took position at the very front.
"We need to complete the fusion—fast. Otherwise, with just cold weapons... how long are we going to be stuck hacking away?"
"Prepare—enemy contact!"
A ten-foot lance pierced clean through a demon vanguard's chest, and its crumbling body shattered into gravel. But behind it surged hundreds—thousands—of roaring demon fodder, flooding toward them like an unstoppable tide.
(End of Chapter)