Sighing with emotion

"General, I will remain here with thirty thousand men to hold the line. I entrust these tens of thousands of wounded soldiers, along with your own injured, to you both—please take them back to the capital. I will be forever grateful," said the general of the Flying Dragon Empire. As he spoke of the wounded, tears welled up in his eyes.

"General, you and General Mu from the Dragon Rock Empire should begin the retreat with the wounded. My troops are crossbowmen; we can easily outrun you if the need arises. You must go first," came the reply.

"You should lead them out first, General. I’ll stay behind—"

"General Mu, as of now, I order you to take General Long and the wounded and withdraw at once. That’s an order!" The dwarven general, seeing the sky brightening and knowing the Demon Isle forces would attack soon, grew anxious and barked the command.

The two generals, looking into the bloodshot eyes of the dwarven general, saluted him with a sharp snap, then turned and left.

The generals gathered their uninjured men, hoisted the wounded, and slowly marched out of the camp, following the retreating soldiers of the Flying Dragon Empire, who had already broken into a desperate run.

"Brothers," the dwarven general addressed the fewer than ten thousand dwarven crossbowmen assembled before him. Most bore minor wounds. Of the fifteen thousand who set out, only these remained; the injured had withdrawn, and only about a hundred of the original three hundred ballistae were still operational. "Our emperor has sent reinforcements. We will hold this ground to ensure our wounded brothers escape safely. If any among you wish to leave, you can still catch up to them."

"General, when have the warriors of the Death Empire ever feared death? Back at Mist City, we made our name. In Death City, what empire dared defy us? Once we built our empire, just a minor troop movement sent our enemies scattering in terror. Now, we'll show Demon Isle the price of provoking the Death Empire!"

"That's right! Once our lord gathers the army, we'll march on Demon Isle and teach them a lesson for coming after us!"

"Good, brothers! We’ll hold this line and show the fiends of Demon Isle the might of the Death Empire. Hoist our banner high!"

At the general’s booming command, the banner of the Flying Dragon Empire was lowered, replaced by the black standard of the Death Empire, its white characters stark against the darkness.

Watching the black flag ripple in the mountain wind, the dwarven general shouted, "To your positions, brothers! Today, Demon Isle will learn that the Death Empire is not to be trifled with."

Nearly ten thousand dwarven crossbowmen divided into three groups and entered the crude defenses. The remaining hundred or so ballistae were moved into place. They knew, as the next battle drew near, that without cover, many would never leave these forests again.

Smoke rose from the Demon Isle camp in the valley below, signaling preparations for an imminent assault.

At last, the day broke fully. Behind the makeshift fortifications, a sudden commotion arose. The dwarven general stiffened—could Demon Isle have outflanked them? But among the enemy, there had been no cavalry…

"General, our cavalry has come to reinforce us—look, the black banners!"

Indeed, a tide of black approached: armored knights beneath the Death Empire’s standard. Their heavy cavalry had arrived.

Mo Fei, after departing for the Flying Dragon Empire’s capital, soon reconsidered. He realized the troops of these empires would never follow his orders as he hoped. Fearing for Xilai’s safety, he quickly dispatched a berserker captain with five thousand cavalry to cover the retreat, then continued on toward the capital.

He had not yet reached the coastal city of the Flying Dragon Empire, but was within a day’s march of their capital. Leading his army, he arrived at Sky Dragon City before sunset on the second day.

The capital was on high alert. Unlike Mo Fei’s previous visit, the walls were now lined with fully armored soldiers.

To avoid misunderstandings, Mo Fei sent a letter ahead to the emperor. When he arrived, the emperor himself, flanked by his guard, came out to receive him.

The emperor saw that Mo Fei had not gone straight to the front, but instead come to the capital. He seemed to understand. The recent war reports had made the situation clear. Without the dwarven general and the fifteen thousand dwarven crossbowmen and three hundred ballistae Mo Fei had previously sent, Demon Isle—led by the traitor—would already be at their gates.

The two emperors said little. The emperor of the Flying Dragon Empire did not believe the fears of his ministers would come true. If Mo Fei had wanted to seize the empire, he would have waited for both sides to bleed each other dry; that would have been much easier.

Thus, when the two emperors met, they exchanged no words. Mo Fei entered the city and immediately took over the defense: ballistae were hauled to the battlements, and all but ten thousand of the heavy cavalry abandoned their mounts to man the great crossbows.

When Mo Fei received the dwarven general’s report, a new doubt crept in: could his army withstand Demon Isle’s massive assault?

A century ago, it was said that the continent had united to defeat Demon Isle and drive them back to the sea. But from the records Mo Fei had read in the library, the truth was otherwise.

In reality, the empires had fought separately, allowing Demon Isle to sweep across the continent after landing. The Flying Dragon Empire was drawn in, and under the emperor’s uncle, while they fought Demon Isle openly, their hidden deeds were shameful, leading to an ambush by dozens of mages from other empires that forced them back.

At that time, the Flying Dragon Empire still possessed the continent’s strongest draconic knights. Led by the emperor’s uncle, they fought several skirmishes with Demon Isle, winning each thanks to their aerial advantage, which made Demon Isle wary and drove them to attack other empires instead.

These draconic knights, unique to the dragon bloodline, could transform into dragons and attack from the sky—but not every flying dragon warrior possessed this power. Over the past century, their numbers dwindled. Even in the war against Demon Isle, only a few hundred could be fielded. Now, including the royal family, fewer than a hundred remain who can take dragon form. The empire would not deploy them short of utter desperation.

As Mo Fei arranged the city’s defense, the emperor stayed by his side, observing without comment as Mo Fei worked as naturally as if he were fortifying his own Death Empire—and the soldiers of the Flying Dragon Empire cooperated willingly.

"Is this enough?" the emperor asked, glancing at Mo Fei and then at the golden twilight sky.

"I don’t know," Mo Fei replied simply. "For the first time, I have no confidence in my own preparations."

"Then why did you come?"

"I had no choice. If the Flying Dragon Empire falls, the Death Empire will be next," Mo Fei said flatly. "Although the Dragon Rock Empire lies between us, you’ve seen for yourself that even the united armies of the continent can’t withstand Demon Isle—let alone one empire. Their role in the recent battles was different, but still…"

"You know Demon Isle is after the whole continent. There are many who still don’t," the emperor replied, as if speaking of something else entirely. "They think Demon Isle is just after territory, like the old wars. Alas!"

"We of the Death Empire took our land the same way," Mo Fei laughed. Though his empire was now calm, that was only because the previous regime’s ceaseless warfare had neglected the people. Now, as he ruled this ancient land, they watched and waited. Outwardly there was peace, but underneath? If not for the terror his conquests had inspired, the Death Empire would now control little beyond its capital’s surroundings.