Chapter 691: A Thousand Troops and Horses Guard the Stronghold

At Changfeng Fortress, Mariland ended his communication with the Mechanical Manufacturing Institute. Standing beside him, his adjutant finally couldn’t hold back and spoke up: “General, are you really planning to arm those newly conscripted recruits with a batch of fake magi-tech equipment?”

Mariland nodded. “Exactly. We’ll have them wear counterfeit gear and stand on the walls. But that’s just the beginning.”

“Not enough?” the adjutant asked, puzzled.

“The South can only supply a limited number of these ‘fakes’ within a few days, and for now, it only covers individual soldiers. That won’t be enough to intimidate the Tefons. We’ll have to come up with something else,” Mariland continued. “The engineering teams who finished expanding the camp should be idle now. Send orders to start building earthworks on the northern hills of Changfeng Fortress and around the Paramel Heights. Move all the timber piled up near the shallows over there. I’ll tell you what I’m planning…”

Once again, the fortress’s defenses sprang into action. Before the next wave of Typhon scouts could arrive, several engineering squads began large-scale construction projects under Mariland’s orders. From the northern hills of Changfeng Fortress to the Paramel Heights in the south, over a dozen defensive works and artillery positions were rapidly erected.

At Paramel Heights, on the fourth “artillery position,” sappers were digging trenches and leveling the ground. Fully armed sentries stood atop makeshift watchtowers, vigilantly scanning the open wasteland. Two soldiers equipped with engineering magi-terminals were cutting timber, while others handled large bundles of tarps and coiled ropes. The scene was busy but orderly.

The officer in charge of the engineering teams crossed a freshly dug trench, glanced at the progress, and nodded slightly. He turned to a nearby soldier. “Keep this pace—get the frames up before noon.”

“Sir, is this really going to work?” the soldier scratched his head. “Scaring the enemy with just some wooden scaffolds?”

“Orders are orders,” the officer shot him a glance, then cracked a grin. “And I think it’s going to work just fine.”

He looked up and saw several soldiers nailing together cut timber, leaning the frames against earthen slopes, then covering them with tarps. The tarp corners were firmly nailed to the ground. Nearby, in a pit, a real magi-crystal railgun was being set up, its acceleration rails aimed toward the plains. The tarp covering it was only halfway done.

In fact, that was the only real cannon on the position. All the other railguns were constructed from wood or scrap iron.

This was a fake position—an elaborate ruse designed to deceive. Several similar positions dotted the area, with even more to the north of the fortress. But not all were fake—about a quarter of the dozen or so positions were genuine, equipped with railguns urgently transferred from the Holy Spirit Plains and manned by sufficient troops. Those would be tough nuts to crack.

This was battlefield cunning the traditional noble armies never considered—completely at odds with the so-called “honor and honesty” of knightly spirit. But every battle the Cecil Legion had fought proved one thing: the age of knightly warfare was over, buried beneath the smoldering ashes of artillery fire. The new era’s justice was measured by caliber and range.

“Don’t forget, those Tefons have never been hit by magi-cannons before,” the veteran-turned-commander grinned at the soldier beside him. “Most of them don’t even know what real magi-tech looks like, especially after our disguises. If they can’t tell the difference within this week, the Iron Throne will be ours!”

…

On the walls of Changfeng Fortress, Mariland stood leaning on his sword beside a magi-crystal railgun. Not far away, at a position with a real magi-cannon, soldiers were using steel plates and cement blocks—originally meant to reinforce the walls—to build makeshift structures. A patrol of soldiers passed behind him, clad in oddly styled light armor, marching in tight formation, spirits high.

At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.

“The Typhon border troops haven’t seen magi-tech firsthand, but their intelligence must have reported on its general form and power. That’s where the misinformation comes in,” Mariland exhaled softly, speaking to his adjutant. “Once position eight is complete, we’ll lay down a barrage covering the Gray Swamp area—leak the news beforehand, say it’s to test a new second-generation weapon. Do the same after position twelve is finished.”

“Yes, General,” the adjutant replied, bowing his head.

Mariland nodded, his gaze drifting beyond the battlements to the vast wasteland beyond.

The false deterrent was in place, but they had to prepare for the possibility that the Tefons might see through it early or not be fooled at all. War ultimately depended on hard power. While building the fake positions, Mariland was also strengthening the fortress’s real defenses. Minefields had been laid at key passes, traps and trenches around the fortress were being dug without pause, and inside, the training of new recruits was proceeding rigorously and methodically.

After all, beyond the empty shells of “magi-tech” gear, a batch of genuine magi-weapons had arrived from the rear. Their greatest advantage was ease of use and rapid combat readiness—ordinary people could learn to fire correctly after just three days of training, and recruits could barely hold the walls after a couple of weeks. At this critical moment, every soldier trained was one more layer of security for the empire’s border.

He had once lost a fortress. In his lifetime, he would not allow it to happen again.

Beside him, his young adjutant—who had accompanied him for years since the days of Rockhold Fortress, through the Rockhold Campaign, labor reforms, and the Godhunter War—also gazed out over the vast defensive line. The young man’s bronze face was clouded with complex emotions.

After a few minutes of silence, Mariland asked, “Payne, what’s on your mind?”

“General…” the young officer hesitated, then spoke. “I just suddenly feel nostalgic. The last time I defended a fortress, knightly spirit was my only creed.”

“Defending the homeland is also knightly spirit, and a higher form of it. Holding this line means protecting more people,” Mariland shook his head. “As for the methods used on the battlefield… times have changed. I had an epiphany standing before those giant cannons. You should try to see it that way too.”

“…You’re right, General.”

…

The changes at Changfeng Fortress and its surrounding defenses did not escape the Typhon scouts. Continuous intelligence reports quickly reached the command center at Winterwolf Castle. When Andersa Wendell received the news, she even stood up in surprise—the young wolf general had never expected the Cecils to suddenly build a second defensive line.

Faced with increasing military pressure from the Tefons, the Cecils had not contracted their defenses but actively constructed new positions. Did this mean… their reserves were larger than initially thought?

The scouting commander reporting to Andersa stood before her, delivering a meticulous briefing: “General, we’ve discovered at least six newly built positions around Paramel Heights, all heavily manned. The northern hills also show an unknown number of troops and fortifications. Additionally, according to merchant reports, the Cecils have been frequently moving troops, with many soldiers and convoys entering Changfeng Fortress from the northwest and southwest…”

Andersa recalled recent intelligence and reports of reinforcements at Changfeng Fortress.

“Where are all these soldiers coming from…” The young wolf general frowned deeply. “Can we confirm the nature of these troops and positions?”

“They appear to be the rumored Cecil Magi Legion. Their equipment differs from regular soldiers—they carry distinctive combat backpacks and maintain strict discipline. As for the positions… our scouts haven’t gotten too close, but we have observed Cecil troops testing weapons. Their power matches previous intelligence—enough to rival our mage corps.”

Andersa left the table and approached the nearby battle map. Following the scout reports, she marked each position along the Changfeng Fortress line.

“A complete defensive line…”
“The scale matches the recent troop increases.”
“Large formations gathering at Paramel Heights and the northern hills…”
“They’re prepared to counter the Iron River Knights’ ‘legion-level spells’?”

Staring at the map, Andersa Wendell fell into deep thought.

Through the magic communication towers, the border intelligence was relayed to Rosetta Augustus without cost or delay.

“Lord Ferdinand, the Ansu have reinforced their lines again.”

The Typhon emperor looked up at the old duke standing before him.

“They’re now called the Cecils, Your Majesty,” Ferdinand Wendell said gravely. “They’ve extended their defenses based on the original Changfeng Fortress line. Combined with previous intelligence, they seem ready to face the Iron River Knights.”

“…The Iron River Knights can unleash energy storms nearly two kilometers wide in a single charge, devastating heavy fortress shields. But if a series of long-range fire positions can continuously attack and disrupt them, their legion-level spells can be broken apart… The new commander at Changfeng Fortress is experienced.”

Duke Ferdinand nodded. “Andersa’s scouts have clashed with them several times. The Cecils’ scouts are seasoned and well-equipped. Though mostly ordinary soldiers, they hold their own against supernaturals. They must be elite.”

Rosetta said nothing, sitting quietly in her high-backed chair. After a pause, Ferdinand continued: “The Royal Council has assessed recent trade with the Cecils and gathered civilian intelligence. Their conclusion is that war is inadvisable.”

“The council’s opinion is based on indirect intelligence, but Andersa’s is firsthand,” Rosetta broke the silence. “We must decide now. If we strike, this is the last chance. If not, we must prepare our arguments for the noble assembly.”

Ferdinand was silent for half a minute before speaking solemnly: “…I agree with the council. War is unwise, Your Majesty.”

“Why?”

“Our industry and economy are undergoing great transformation. During this process, much of the reform pressure can be relieved. We no longer have an urgent need for war. Moreover, if the Cecils are truly prepared to fight, the setbacks we suffer will be worse than expected. Internal pressures won’t ease, and ongoing industrial projects will be disrupted.”

Industrial and economic transformation…

Rosetta frowned.

What Ferdinand said was undeniable—the Typhon Empire was at a pivotal moment entering a new era. The emerging magi-tech industry was destined to overhaul society’s operating rules, and the expected benefits could surpass those of the past several centuries.

In this situation, did Typhon really need another war?

Rosetta rose from his desk and began pacing slowly beside it.

After more than ten minutes, he finally came to a stop.

“Order Andersa to pull back his forces and have the Iron River Knights retreat to the east side of the Winterwolf Fortress defenses.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Having made his decision, Rosetta seemed noticeably more at ease. He exhaled slowly and fixed his gaze on Ferdinand. “Let’s hope today’s choice proves to be the right one, Lord Ferdinand.”

(End of chapter)