Chapter 107: The Complete Annihilation of the Jackalman Hunting Party

Bjorn joined forces with Magna’s warriors, crossing mountains and ridges to pursue the gnoll hunting party. In a head-on confrontation, one hundred Basaka longbowmen would only have a slight edge over one hundred gnolls. However, an ambush was a different matter; by choosing advantageous positions and unleashing several volleys of arrows, the Basaka longbowmen could inflict over fifty percent casualties before the gnolls even reached their lines.

Leo was not worried about the wildlings failing, only about them suffering excessive losses. Both wildling tribes were already within his grasp; even if they were unwilling to submit, they were at least his allies. Their soldiers were, in effect, his soldiers. Having been an avid fan of strategy games in his previous life, he always strove for minimal combat losses regardless of what he played. In *Civilization VI*, losing a single scout pained him, and losing a swordsman made him want to reload a save file. Now that the people in his hands were flesh and blood, losing them was even more unacceptable. He wished for no war, no invading enemies—just for everyone to live in harmony while he led his people to bury their heads in farming, right through to the modern era.

While directing his infantry and refugees to quickly construct defensive fortifications, trenches, and traps, Leo asked Fisa, "Where is your big kobold?"

The so-called "big kobold" was the werewolf the ogres had gifted to Fisa. Fisa refused to acknowledge that the werewolf was not a kobold, so she had simply redefined his species. This werewolf, kept in check by heavy iron chains, had only appeared twice before vanishing without a trace. Leo did not know if Fisa had killed him because he was too difficult to tame, or if he had taken the opportunity to escape.

Fisa, who was supervising the kobolds in the production of "Boom-Booms," replied nonchalantly, "He went home to see his mother."

"So you just let him go?" Leo asked in disbelief.

"What else?"

"Fair enough..." Leo had nothing more to say. It was Fisa’s choice; letting him go was done, and the best outcome was that no one had been hurt.

Seeing Leo fall silent, Fisa insisted, "He will come back! He is a big kobold! One of my people!"

As she spoke, Fisa approached a kobold manufacturing gunpowder, grabbed a handful of the mixed black powder, sniffed it, and scolded angrily, "Idiot! Idiot! Too little yellow, too much black!" The scolded kobold whimpered, unable to lift his head, looking as if he wished he were dead.

Fisa walked over to another kobold, grabbed a handful of powder, sniffed it, and nodded in satisfaction. "Not bad! The quality is pure!"

Fisa’s process for inventing the powder keg had been extraordinarily simple. She had stolen the gunpowder formula from Leo, successfully concocted black powder, and set off fireworks in the Kobold Valley. Possessing extraordinary olfactory senses, she could discern the components of the powder and adjust the proportions of the materials based on scent to achieve the optimal mix. She also had access to more and purer saltpeter and sulfur, as well as ample time for experimentation; in just a few days, the power of her gunpowder had surpassed Leo’s prototypes. She had stored the mixed black powder in a barrel, accidentally blew it up, and instantly discovered a new world. Thus, the powder keg was born.

Now, Fisa had even begun researching the granulation of gunpowder to improve its moisture resistance and stability. However, the war was too urgent, and for now, Fisa’s "Boom-Booms" still used powdered gunpowder. Powdered gunpowder was difficult to transport and store, and in the hands of careless kobolds, it could explode at any moment, sending them flying. Therefore, Leo had suggested that Fisa carry the saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal separately, mixing them only upon arrival at the battlefield.

The kobold craftsmen under Fisa were neither skilled nor diligent, requiring her constant supervision. A barrel the size of a human head, reinforced with three iron hoops, would be filled with dozens of grape-sized irregular iron pellets, topped off with gunpowder, and then the lid would be nailed shut. If any kobold thought about shaking it to ensure the powder was mixed, they were immediately stopped by Fisa, who would lash them with a whip until they howled in terror. During these times, Leo made it a point to stay as far away as possible.

By the end of the day, Bjorn and Magna had returned to camp with their troops, albeit with a few minor wounds. Magna proudly tossed a gnoll’s head at Leo’s feet and declared, "At least one hundred gnolls, all annihilated! Not a single one escaped!"

The gnoll’s head was jowly and fierce, with menacing fangs, and it was much larger than Leo had imagined. Its neck had been severed, and as the blood drained out, thick, coarse muscle fibers were visible.

Leo quickly asked, "What were your casualties?"

"Nine men dead, a dozen or so wounded."

Leo scanned the returning Basaka longbowmen and noticed that far more than twenty men were wearing bandages. It was clear that Magna did not count the wildlings who were still able to lift their weapons among the wounded. Magna’s definition of "wounded" only included those carried back on stretchers.

The extent of the casualties made Leo feel uncomfortable, but he did not show it. Instead, he praised them loudly, "Well done! The God of War is above, witnessing the valor of the Basaka people!"

Having received Leo’s approval, Magna and the newly joined wildlings breathed a sigh of relief, their morale bolstered. Once the wildlings dispersed, Bjorn spoke to Leo in a low voice, describing the battle.

Over one hundred Basaka longbowmen had ambushed an equal number of gnolls in a valley, raining arrows down upon them. Within ten breaths, more than half of the gnolls had fallen on the path of their charge, and the rest had scattered in a panic. Fearing that the fleeing gnolls would return to report, Magna had arranged for scouts to intercept them, which inevitably led to small-scale close-quarters combat.

The gnolls’ ferocity and toughness were only fully realized in melee. The core of the gnoll force—the gnoll brutes—were each as tall as the wildling scouts, with thicker muscles that rivaled Fisa’s kobold guards. The brutes’ own musculature and thick hides provided powerful defense; many were also draped in bear or tiger pelts and equipped with heavy round shields, allowing them to survive the initial hail of arrows. They carried heavy flails or chain-maces, with only a few using light weapons.

The remaining gnoll hunters were no less physically capable than the Riverbend infantry. Although they wore only animal-hide skirts and lacked armor, they were easily picked off by the Basaka longbowmen while wielding their bows and short spears. Dozens of gnoll brutes and hunters collided with the wildling scouts assigned to block them. After losing another small portion to arrows, they finally reached the scouts, and both sides engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

The wildling scouts were also formidable in melee, but unfortunately, they lacked shields and had no training in battle formations. Once they clashed, it immediately devolved into a chaotic brawl. No matter how strong a wildling’s body was, it could not withstand a blow from a flail or a chain-mace. Thus, even with a numerical advantage, they could only trade lives. In the end, they had traded the lives of nine scouts and the severe wounding of fifteen more for a total annihilation.

Leo dared not say it aloud, but he knew that if the Riverbend infantry had held the line, there would never have been such heavy casualties; if they had held the numerical advantage, there might not have been any deaths at all. But these thoughts had to be buried in his heart; he could not say them to these wildlings who valued martial valor above life itself.