Chapter 1345: Fighting Requires Strategy

At the northern front where the Living Forest clashed most fiercely with the Dark Root Network, the entire battlefield had transformed into something beyond ordinary understanding—beyond any historical record. Massive, mutated lifeforms battled deep underground beneath layers of heavy rock and soil. Above them, the mechanized legions of the Mortal Empire fought the bioengineered armies of the Dark Cult in a white-hot conflict. Between these two fronts lay a sprawling network of biomass factories and pipelines built by the Cecil Empire, alongside treant priests and writhing vine clusters loyal to the Dark Cult. These colossal war machines, like titanic beasts locked in mortal combat, generated such immense pressure that not only did the Mortal Empire’s forces rapidly evolve, but the dark creatures cultivated by the Cult of the End also advanced and perfected themselves at an alarming rate.

Tough vines tore through thick rock layers, while seemingly soft, camouflaged roots supported the soil and stone above. A faint, eerie glow pulsed through the plant’s vascular fluids, illuminating the passageways leading deep underground. Bertram’s roots slithered swiftly over slick stones and tangled vines, while the vast root network continuously fed environmental data directly into his consciousness, allowing him to clearly grasp the unfolding “battle situation” ahead.

The encirclement was gradually taking shape. The root network’s “immune barrier” had gained a clear upper hand. His “minions” had successfully trapped a portion of the hostile roots spreading from the Living Forest inside an underground cavern, severing many biomass supply lines around the target. Deep within this shrinking noose, the massive thought pulses glowed faintly like distant lights in the dark.

Such dominance in a war between “plants” was rare. One key reason was the terrifying Living Forest’s superior operational efficiency and adaptive intelligence compared to the root network. For a long time, Bertram and his subordinates had been trying to unravel this secret. After considerable effort and sacrifice, they finally made progress.

They discovered that the reason Beltira, far away on the Holy Spirit Plains, could effortlessly command the vast Living Forest at the southern foot of the Dark Mountains—and maintain its high efficiency even as it expanded—was due to a kind of “auxiliary thinking organ.” This organ grew and multiplied alongside the forest, acting like Beltira’s “auxiliary soul.” These organs could unite as a whole to handle large-scale problems or operate autonomously with their own powerful intelligence in localized areas.

Upon learning this, one of Bertram’s primary goals became capturing one of these “auxiliary thinking organs” to find a way to decisively defeat Beltira.

Of course, this was no easy task. The auxiliary organs were vital to the Living Forest, and Beltira would never allow such crucial parts to be exposed to danger. Usually, these organs were heavily guarded by vast root systems and biological combat units, sometimes even hidden inside the Cecil Empire’s steel fortresses. Bertram had tried multiple times but always failed.

Yet nothing is absolute. These “thinking organs” were not always perfectly secure. Because the Living Forest had to constantly spread deeper into the wasteland, its scale grew daily. Beltira had to keep producing new thinking organs and deploying them to the front lines. These organs and their “guards” couldn’t grow and be deployed instantly—they needed time to mature, just like any living unit.

Normally, Beltira calculated this maturation time carefully, leaving no openings. But she was still mortal. If the battlefield was vast enough, the neural nodes complex enough, and the pressure from the Dark Root Network’s counterattacks intense enough, she would inevitably slip up. For many days, Bertram had been waiting for this very opportunity.

He believed that if he could capture one of these organs, his mastery of druidic magic would allow him to uncover its weaknesses. Even if he couldn’t fully crack it, handing one over to the High Priest would be a major victory.

Suddenly, the sound of dripping water echoed from afar. Streams of water had gathered in the damp underground passage without him noticing. Bertram snapped out of his reverie about the future, maintaining his connection to the nearby root network as he mentally instructed his followers, “Stay alert. Ahead lies a natural underground chamber— that madwoman got here before us.”

No sooner had he spoken than his team passed through a tunnel forcibly opened by the root network. A subterranean dark river, shrouded in shadow, appeared within the dark priests’ senses.

The ancient natural cavern echoed with the gentle murmur of flowing water. Cold streams seeped from cracks in nearby rocks, converging into rivulets that flowed toward the depths of a wide underground chamber. The river glowed with an unnatural pale blue light—beautiful, yet eerily so. Occasionally, strange, aimless creatures flickered through the water. They looked like fish or amphibians, but vanished without a trace the next moment, leaving no ripples behind.

Farther downstream, these bizarre creatures reappeared, their forms subtly altered as if they had slipped into another dimension and undergone some unknown “reconfiguration.”

Bertram was unfazed by these strange phenomena. He glanced briefly at the water and muttered, “The power of the wasteland is everywhere.”

Pressing deeper into the darkness, they soon encountered the remains of recently slain organisms.

Withered, dead vines and roots lay scattered, alongside grotesque corpses bearing fierce combat appendages. The air was thick with a sickly mix of blood and sweet rot, setting the dark priests on edge. Without waiting for Bertram’s warning, they instinctively raised magical barriers to filter the air.

“We’ve entered the ‘battlefield,’” Bertram whispered. “Just minutes ago, our underground defenses fought a brutal battle here against the Living Forest’s invading forces. Look at these remains… many are immature units.”

The squirming of roots and low murmurs echoed around them as the dark priests and their mutated thralls searched for any biological signatures not belonging to their side. Bertram focused intently, sensing the ever-growing complexity of thought pulses throughout the vast cavern system.

Then, a sudden chill spread through his mind, accompanied by a sharp sting. A distant, low voice filled with cold malice pierced his thoughts: “Bertram… long time no see. I’m surprised you actually dare show yourself before me again…”

“Beltira…” Bertram fought back the lingering fear buried deep in his soul from past psychic wounds. As his will solidified, the fear gradually faded. “I know you’re bluffing! I’ve found your weakness here! Face reality—we’ve switched roles. Right now, I’m the hunter, and you’re the prey!”

“Just because you’ve managed to trap part of my organization… you think you’ve seized the lifeline of victory…” The cold voice stirred contempt and arrogance in Bertram’s mind, fueling his hatred and disgust. “Let’s wait and see who will become the other’s nourishment in this dark underground…”

The stabbing pain in his mind vanished abruptly, replaced by a brief emptiness and dizziness. He sensed Beltira’s will withdrawing—but this brought him no relief.

Instead, he felt as if a great enemy was looming.

“Be alert! The enemy’s counterattack is coming!”

Bertram shouted, warning his followers. Almost immediately, a series of low rumbles and rapid clicking noises shattered the silence of the cavern, surging in from all directions.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bertram saw countless massive vines bursting from nearby rock crevices. Many creatures previously thought dead suddenly “revived.” Farther in the cavern’s depths, a massive swarm of dark, chitinous combat mutants poured forth like an insect horde, their claws and armor flashing coldly in the river’s eerie blue light.

These were the “guards” that had been lying in wait throughout the caves, bypassing the root network’s senses through pheromones or neural interference—waiting for this moment.

Behind the dark priests, the mutated thralls who had followed them from the surface unleashed frenzied howls and murmurs, charging without hesitation at the enemies detected by their senses. Chaos and terror erupted in the underground space.

Yet at the heart of this fierce battle, Bertram couldn’t help but let out a low, grim laugh.

Yes, there was a trap. Beltira had set an ambush. But these traps only confirmed his earlier judgment—

This was nothing.

Moreover, the activation of these ambushers generated a massive, unmistakable “command signal.” This signal helped him finally pinpoint the exact location of the “command source.”

“Release all thralls! They’re expendable!” he shouted suddenly, activating every root network node around him. “I’ve found the true position of the organ—comrades, follow me!”

Deep beneath the heavy soil and rock, a series of thunderous rumbles exploded. The once orderly root network suddenly went berserk, launching a reckless assault on the nearby Living Forest roots. The mutated thralls accompanying the dark priests also entered a frenzy, attacking the “bioweapon clusters” of the towering Sorin trees that had emerged from the cavern. Roars, snapping, explosions, and the splatter of fluids filled the underground chamber.

Amid this terrifying battle, Bertram and his followers abandoned the “soldiers” assigned to them by High Priest Bolken, slipping swiftly and silently into another cavern deeper within.

Just as Bertram had said—“servants” were expendable. As long as they could seize Beltira’s weakness, all the resources he burned through here would be worth a great victory!

They moved through the darkness, leaving the sounds of battle behind. Wave after wave of defenses were either bypassed or shattered in rapid succession, bringing them ever closer to the deepest chamber of this natural cavern. They pressed on for what felt like an eternity, until suddenly Bertram sensed a glow appearing before his eyes.

The space ahead opened up abruptly.

No one would have guessed that such a place could exist in the pitch-black underground world: lush greenery blanketed the entire cavern, glowing vines hung from the ceiling, casting a soft light over everything. Thick, deep brown aerial roots supported the floor and dome alike, their tops entwined with flowering vines and dotted with leaves, creating a breathtaking scene that resembled an underground forest.

This… was one of Beltira’s frontline “command nodes”?

Bertram stared in stunned silence.

He couldn’t even remember how many years it had been since he’d seen anything like this.

But in the next moment, that faint sense of awe twisted into a surge of hatred and fury, sharpening his focus on the source of all the mental pulse signals in the cavern:

A massive cluster of flowering vines cradled something at the very heart of this “garden.” Nestled within the vines was a shape resembling a brain—no, it was a brain, lying there completely unguarded.

It was alive. Its surface shimmered with flickering micro-lights, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

It looked utterly bizarre—and utterly defenseless.

Only now did Bertram truly laugh—though his ugly face rarely showed genuine mirth, he knew he was feeling a rare joy.

A thinking organ—so this was Beltira’s sense of aesthetics and creativity. It lay here quietly before him.

No matter how important this thing was, no matter how many powerful guards it might have had, it was still just a thinking organ… After breaking through the nearby defenses, its core was shockingly fragile, shockingly vulnerable.

“Do you feel fear too… you slimy lump of flesh?” Bertram’s voice was low and dark.

In his mind, the distorted creatures he’d left behind and the frenzied root network’s biometric signals were rapidly fading—but that didn’t dampen his pleasure one bit.

“Sever its connections to the surrounding organisms. Remove it intact.”

Bertram said casually.

One of his most trusted dark priests immediately stepped forward, advancing toward the seemingly fragile, utterly unprotected brain.

One step, two steps, three steps… BAM!!

Bertram watched helplessly as his formidable subordinate was suddenly struck by something devastating. A heavy, crushing impact exploded through the air, smashing the priest’s wooden body into countless splinters that scattered everywhere.

The next moment, Bertram saw the brain lift off its “pedestal.” From beneath it extended a dozen thick, muscular tentacles. At the ends of those tentacles swung heavy mechanical warhammers, gleaming electric maces, primed flamethrowers, and even arcane main cannons that should have been mounted on heavy tanks!

Bertram: “?”

(End of chapter)