"Lower your bows! Do you small fry want to die?!"
A hoarse roar exploded from the edge of the battlefield.
Scarface rushed over menacingly, leading dozens of greenskins —he had just finished directing the goblin to move the loot, and upon turning around, he saw the humans on the city wall daring to point arrows at his own boss, instantly sending his fury soaring.
These greenskins had just crawled out of bloody combat, beast blood still stained their iron axes, wounded muscle showed through the cracks in their leather armor, and the ferocity in their eyes was like a poisoned blade, terrifying the young soldiers on the wall so much that their hands holding the bows started trembling.
Kurzadh raised his hand, stopping Scarface.
He knew these humans were just posturing—every soldier on the wall looked exhausted, their armor was broken, and even their bowstrings were faintly vibrating from being taut for too long. Where did they have any strength left to fight?
Sure enough, before Scarface could curse again, heavy footsteps echoed from the arrow tower above the city gate.
Escoville emerged, wearing his set of black, ruby-inlaid armor, escorted by over a dozen shield-bearing soldiers.
The shield-bearers formed a barrier with their square iron shields, protecting Escoville in the center. He rested his hand on the saber at his waist, his gaze fixed heavily on Kurzadh, his voice hoarse from the recent battle: "Greenskin chieftain, bringing this many people, what is your intention?"
"Nothing," Kurzadh grinned, pointing at the bows on the wall. "I helped you run off the Long-Haired Monsters, and this is how you treat 'reinforcements'? Pointing arrows at my head?"
Escoville frowned and waved his hand at the soldiers behind him.
The longbows on the wall slowly lowered, but they remained in a state of readiness.
He looked at Kurzadh, his tone complex: "Who exactly are you? Why would you help Katushir?"
"I am Kurzadh, the boss of the Blackrock Clan," Kurzadh patted his chest, speaking frankly. "It was your man, Antonio, who invited me here." He paused, changing the subject, his eyes showing the unique greed of a greenskin. "We didn't come here for charity. We ran off those Long-Haired Monsters, and we lost over a hundred brothers. We need some 'compensation', right?"
Escoville had anticipated this, but he hadn't expected the other party to be so blunt.
He said in a deep voice: "What do you want?"
"Money." Kurzadh held up a finger, his tone decisive. "One hundred thousand Imperial gold coins."
"What?!" The soldiers on the wall instantly erupted.
One hundred thousand Imperial gold coins? Even if Katushir sold every single shop, it wouldn't be able to gather that much money!
Escoville's face darkened, and the hand gripping his sword hilt tightened slightly: "Greenskin chieftain, you are asking for the moon!"
"Asking for the moon?" Kurzadh scoffed, pointing to the battlefield behind him. "Over a hundred of my brothers died, we chopped up your archenemy Wasaga, drove off more than three thousand Long-Haired Monsters, and helped you defend the city. One hundred thousand gold coins is cheap!" He paused, a hint of menace in his voice. "If you don't pay, I'll take my brothers inside right now and find the 'compensation' ourselves."
Escoville's expression grew even uglier.
How could he not know this was a threat? But Katushir no longer had the strength to resist—the city militia had suffered over fifty percent casualties, the knight order had fewer than two hundred men left, and even the Militiamen had suffered thousands of deaths. Currently, fewer than five hundred people in the city could still pick up a weapon.
If these greenskins truly attacked the city, Katushir would be instantly flattened.
"Fifty thousand." Escoville gritted his teeth and stated a figure. "Katushir can only produce fifty thousand gold coins right now."
"Fifty thousand? That's too little!" Scarface yelled from the side. "We killed so many Long-Haired Monsters, we need at least ninety thousand!"
"I said one hundred thousand, so it's one hundred thousand!" Kurzadh glared at Scarface, then looked back at Escoville, softening his tone slightly. "However, since you just finished fighting a war, I can be flexible." He held out his hand and counted on his fingers. "If you can't produce the one hundred thousand gold coins, you can pay with goods. For example, grain, ironware, and... orc prisoners."
Escoville's eyes lit up.
As a trade fortress, Katushir still had quite a bit of cargo in its warehouses that hadn't been shipped out—silk, spices, ironware. Although not much, it could cover a portion. As for the orc prisoners, during previous cleanups of surrounding small tribes, they had captured many scattered greenskins , which could conveniently be used to settle the debt.
He pondered for a moment and said: "Sixty thousand gold coins, and the remaining forty thousand will be covered by goods and prisoners. We have about three hundred prisoners, and the goods include one hundred fifty bolts of silk, two hundred pound of spice, six hundred pound of pig iron..."
This deal was a guaranteed profit! Kurzadh grinned: "Fine! It's settled! Send the goods and prisoners outside the city gate at this time tomorrow. Once I inspect the goods, I'll take my brothers and leave."
Escoville nodded and turned to walk into the arrow tower.
He watched Kurzadh's retreating figure, a hint of malice flashing in his eyes—these greenskins were too formidable and so greedy; keeping them around was always a hidden danger.
He summoned a retainer and quietly ordered: "Send a squad of scouts to follow these greenskins secretly and find out where their tribe is located."
The retainer accepted the order and left.
Escoville stood in the arrow tower, watching the greenskins carrying their loot disappear into the distance, secretly resolving—once Katushir recovered its strength, he must find a way to eliminate the Blackrock Clan.
The next day at noon, the north gate of Katushir slowly opened.
Three hundred orc prisoners, their necks tied with ropes, walked out of the city gate in a line.
Most of these prisoners were ragged, some bearing wounds, their eyes showing numbness—they were originally members of scattered small tribes, and after being captured by Katushir, they had been held in prison, never expecting to be used as "Goods" to pay off other greenskins .
The soldiers escorting the prisoners were all vigilant, gripping their long spears tightly, afraid that the prisoners might suddenly riot.
Bone Tree led dozens of Orc Boyz to meet them. The moment he took the ropes, he yanked hard—the prisoners stumbled and fell to the ground, yet none dared to resist.
Bone Tree grinned and shouted to the Orc Boyz beside him: "Take these fellas back! Give them a good 'training' so they know the rules of the Blackrock Clan!"
The Orc Boyz roared their affirmation and drove the prisoners toward the Forest of Gloom like livestock.
At the same time, Katushir's soldiers began moving the compensation—the gold coins were packed into ten heavy wooden chests; when the lids were opened, the glittering golden light made the greenskins' eyes go wide. Silk and spices were piled on wooden planks, emitting a rich fragrance; iron swords were bundled together, shining with a cold light.
Kurzadh personally inspected the goods, and after confirming the quantities were correct, he nodded to Scarface: "Move it back!"
The greenskins swarmed forward, some carrying wooden chests, some shouldering silk, and others hugging iron swords, excitedly shouting, "Looting time!" as they headed toward the tribe.
This compensation had nearly drained the last vitality out of Katushir—the gold coins were the city treasury's sole remaining reserve, the silk and spices were cargo intended for sale to southern merchants, and the iron swords were the city militia's backup weapons.
After this battle, it would take Katushir at least twenty to thirty years to recover its strength.
Kurzadh walked at the very end. He looked back at the walls of Katushir, a cunning smile playing on his lips.
He had long suspected that Escoville wouldn't stay quiet—greenskin intuition was always sharp, and the way Escoville had looked at him yesterday, like a hungry wolf eyeing fat meat, definitely meant trouble.
Sure enough, that same night, deep in the woods at the edge of the Forest of Gloom, three scouts wearing black night clothes were cautiously following the greenskins' footprints.
Their movements were light, their steps extremely soft, short knives gripped in their hands, their eyes vigilantly scanning their surroundings—Escoville's order to them was to confirm the location of the Blackrock Clan, preferably drawing a route map.
"Hurry up and keep pace, don't get spotted," the leading scout whispered. Just as he was about to step forward, he suddenly felt the ground give way—beneath the fallen leaves, a trap woven from spider silk was hidden!
"Oh no!" The scout tried to retreat, but it was already too late.
The spider silk instantly wrapped around his ankle and yanked upward, suspending him mid-air.
Just as the other two scouts tried to rush forward to rescue him, over a dozen night hobgoblins burst out of the bushes, riding Death Crawlers, armed with hemp ropes and daggers.
"Catch them! Don't let them get away!" Keziaz's voice rang out.
The night hobgoblins were agile. They rode their Crawlers around behind the scouts and tightly bound them with hemp rope.
The scouts tried to resist, but the Death Crawlers' pincers were pressed against their throats, forcing them to surrender obediently.
Keziaz, riding the largest Death Crawler, approached the scouts, used his dagger to slice open their night clothes, and sneered: "You tried to follow us? You've got some nerve!" He winked at the night hobgoblins beside him. "The boss said if anyone dared to follow, we should give them a good 'welcome'."
The night hobgoblins chuckled, stepped forward, and stripped the three scouts completely naked, not even leaving their shoes.
They used spider silk to tie the scouts up like dumplings, hoisted them onto the backs of the Death Crawlers, and headed toward Katushir.
The next morning, Katushir's north gate was awakened by a "thump-thump" knocking sound.
The gate-guarding soldier opened the gate and instantly gasped in shock—three naked men were tied to the door panel, covered in spider silk and leaves. They were the scouts sent out yesterday!
The soldiers quickly carried the scouts into the city and brought them before Escoville.
Escoville looked at the utterly humiliated scouts before him, his face livid—his elite scouts had been stripped naked by the greenskins and dumped at the city gate. This was blatant humiliation!
"Blackrock Clan... Kurzadh..." Escoville ground out the name, his eyes filled with rage and apprehension.
Only now did he realize that these greenskins were not just strong fighters, but also incredibly cunning. Eliminating them would be far harder than he had imagined.
Meanwhile, deep within the Blackrock Clan in the Forest of Gloom, Kurzadh sat on a stone stool in the mushroom garden, listening to Keziaz report the scouts' "fate," and burst into laughter: "Well done! Let that old human know that the territory of the Blackrock Clan isn't somewhere just anyone can trespass!"
Bone Tree stood nearby, shouldering a massive axe, and said gruffly: "Boss, should I take the brothers and go loot Katushir? We can grab the rest of the gold coins while we're at it!"
"No rush." Kurzadh waved his hand, his eyes showing long-term calculation. "Katushir still has a use. Once we've trained those prisoners and digested the loot, we'll go back and 'demand' more things from them!"
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, shining on Kurzadh's face.
He looked at the Orc Boyz training in the distance and the mountains of loot piled up in the warehouse, a satisfied smile curving his lips—the Battle of Katushir had not only made the Blackrock Clan rich, but it had also established its reputation in the Forest of Gloom.