Above The Sky
Chapter 74 - 74 71 The Tactician of All Trades

74: Chapter 71: The Tactician of All Trades 74: Chapter 71: The Tactician of All Trades The western city’s riverside jungle was damp and complex, with a tangle of pathways that were fragmented and disconnected, known only to the natives and the wild beasts on how to navigate through such a narrow and dark environment.

But as the Imperial troops from Harrison Port advanced, all the forests along their path were cut down and burned, leaving not a trace of woods within a ten-mile radius on both sides of the Ivoke River in just two months, even the stumps corroded away by alchemical potions.

Soil erosion was a problem for later; in times of war, even if Viscount Grant had gone mad, he would not possibly leave the forests for the natives to exploit and launch surprise attacks on his forces.

It was precisely this clear field of vision that allowed Viscount Grant, still stationed at the front line, to detect the sudden onset of a severe storm from afar.

“At this time?!”

Staring up at the pouring rain that had already begun to fall, the astonished Viscount Grant knew well in advance that according to various coastal reports, the great storm should occur on some day in September or October…

but theoretically, there should have been some signs before the storm arrived!

For instance, extremely high rain clouds, an overly brilliant sunset, abnormal monsoons—on the Terra Continent where natural disasters were frequent, such signs had long been compiled into manuals, which Viscount Grant could recite from memory as the lord of the land.

Yet none of these had happened recently, which is why he had dared to lead a sortie to intercept a major native force attempting to sabotage the Imperial road.

The Nanling Province wasn’t just home to Harrison Port; in the north, there were two major cities, Three Rivers City and Nauman City, the provincial capital.

In the northwest mountains, there were also several native tribes and a Mountain People’s Autonomous Region loyal to The Empire—the mercenary leader Lubeck from the port hailed from the Autonomous Region.

As Harrison Port was the front line against the Redwood Natives in the Great Redwood Forest Zone, it bore most of the pressure, so upon learning of the outbreak of war, a continuous stream of support caravans came via the Imperial road, providing supplies.

Even the Imperial Capital was aware of this, and the already scheduled support caravans were further bolstered with a batch of combat supplies and Sublimation Materials.

With the backing of the entire Empire, even if a considerable portion of these supports was expected to be embezzled along the way, it was still better than the natives who had no supply at all, right?

The natives were not ignorant of this logic, hence in the recent half month, they had been constantly harassing the Imperial road.

They either attacked small-scale caravans or directly dug up the roadbed, rolling large boulders to block the path—anything to ensure that support for Harrison Port would not arrive smoothly.

Even today, they desperately wanted to blow up a cliff and completely block a pass; fortunately, Viscount Grant had expected this and personally led a team to intercept that native squad carrying a large amount of Crystal Sand Explosive.

But in reality, this was merely a feint—the intelligence just obtained through interrogation revealed that the main native force had already crossed the pass, heading towards a supply transit town between Three Rivers City and Harrison Port in the north.

They intended to destroy that transit town completely and cut off all support for Harrison Port.

“Withdraw now?”

On the other side, Elder Prude, clad in armored clothing, inquired, his voice somewhat muffled as it passed through his helmet and the curtain of rain: “Faced with a natural disaster, those natives definitely can’t continue their attack.

Looking at the speed of the rain cloud’s spread, if we don’t turn back now, we’ll have to camp out and withstand the storm.”

“Of course we retreat.

Even if those savages manage to take over Amor Town, at best they would hinder our supplies for about a month—and even if we are completely cut off from supplies, we can still win,” said Viscount Grant, watching the storm clouds at sea, mountainous and cliff-like, a barrier of white.

His tone calmed, yet tinged with a hint of perplexity: “But their luck is really quite good to have launched the raid today.”

“If there hadn’t been this big storm, with the militia from Amor Town and us pincering them from front and back, we would have inflicted significant damage on the main force of the natives, ensuring peace for the next seven or eight years,” the brown-haired noble lamented, regretting the missed opportunity to completely crush these savages.

Since Viscount Grant had made his decision, the forces primarily comprising the Port Guard Squad naturally began to withdraw in an orderly fashion.

They dismantled the Alchemical Cannons on the battlefield, placing them into boxes, their actions efficient and well-practiced.

The blacksmiths and alchemists trained by Elder Prude might not be good at many things, but in these basic tasks, they were extremely proficient.

However, just as the troops had finished preparations and were ready to retreat in tight formation amidst the storm, Elder Prude, who had been deep in thought, suddenly spoke up: “Is it really just a coincidence?”

Hearing the old man’s words, Viscount Grant turned his head to listen to his opinion.

And with just a single term, the elder made the young noble’s eyes widen: “Foreseeing Bifoliate.”

—The Sacred Tree Essence from the Redwood Natives’ mouth, said to be able to briefly predict future events, a rare Sublimation Material that strengthened spirit vision and Spirit Energy.

The armored elder and the noble exchanged glances, Elder Prude’s tone heavy: “Although we have never obtained it, always thinking it was merely a legend among the natives.”

“But what if it does exist?

What if it truly grants one the ability to foresee the future, even if briefly?”

“What if the Great Shaman, that old immortal, used such a mysterious item to foresee the moment the great storm would strike, thus orchestrating this entire series of plans?”

Viscount Grant was stunned.

Indeed, no one could be entirely sure about the future’s course, even the fragments and omens that the Prophets of the great sects could see were just bits and pieces.

But simply foretelling the arrival of a storm…

wasn’t that unbelievable.

“Hear the order!

Cease action!”

After gasping in a breath of cold air, Viscount Grant decisively commanded his troops to stop marching.

Immediately after, the middle-aged man who looked to be in his thirties or forties and a Second Energy Level Sublimator, lit up with bright blue luminescence around his body.

Like three layers of Star Rings, it revolved around him, absorbing the moisture from the surrounding torrential rain.

Three layers of water rings formed a spinning disk beneath Viscount Grant’s feet.

The rings rapidly intertwined and rubbed against each other, producing vast amounts of steam, furiously blasting downwards.

With the propulsion of the steam, Viscount Grant floated up, gazing down from on high at the rain-drenched dense forest ahead of his troops.

Then he drew his sword and slashed down through the air.

The water vapor in the air condensed with the Viscount’s sword movement, forming a semi-transparent water blade that detached and turned into misty luminescence, slashing quickly toward the dense forest beneath him.

Instantly, along with a burst of noise, the large trees and vines, bushes, and weeds in the forest all toppled in the direction of the water blade’s advance.

Even the water droplets spraying through the air were lethal, piercing through the tough leaves of the elm trees.

Similarly, the various traps and schemes hidden in the forest were exposed under this strike.

Boom boom boom— A series of dull sounds erupted.

In just a moment, large swathes of colorful, highly toxic miasma rose from the dense forest and were then dispersed by the storm.

“Traps?!”

“Since when, why would there be traps on our way back?!”

But every soldier and guard was horrified.

They were all elite warriors familiar with Native tactics and understood the terror of such miasma.

It was the sort of poison that causes necrosis and pulmonary emphysema just from inhaling even a fragment or merely from skin contact!

—The path ahead could no longer be taken!

“Phew…

betting the whole family fortune, just the revealed poison traps alone, if a proper Shaman personally went to collect, it would take at least half a month to barely gather enough.”

With the bright blue Origin Quality spirit light flickering around him, barely coalescing into a watery wave-like form, Viscount Grant’s expression was stern.

The high-order Sublimation Bloodline ‘Abyssal Whale’ granted him the ability to control water flow and steam, much like the whale spouting fog, whose breath could shroud an island just by surfacing, he, at the Second Energy Level, could already harness the jetting steam power to fly, slashing out high-temperature steam-driven water blades to cut down huge trees.

But even he was unable to guard against all the traps along the way, nor did he have enough Origin Quality to continuously use Sublimation Skills to carve a safe path.

—Bang!

At that moment, another explosion rang out.

Viscount Grant initially thought it was thunder, but he quickly realized something was off.

He looked up while floating in mid-air, toward Harrison Port in the distance, and couldn’t help but be stunned again.

“My estate!?”

Black smoke billowed up, quickly dispersed by the winds, but a Sublimator’s vision could clearly see that the smoke, caused by a violent explosion, had originated around his own home!

—The Natives are raiding our homes!

“Damn it!”

Descending from mid-air, Viscount Grant tersely said to Elder Prude, “The Natives are taking advantage of our inability to swiftly return to the city and have launched a surprise attack.

You guessed right; they definitely foresaw the coming of the great storm, otherwise they wouldn’t risk such a gamble.”

“Shall we go back?” the old man asked simply.

“We won’t go back,” said the noble with a vicious expression.

“If he wants to launch a surprise attack, then I will too—Hear the order, turn around, march towards Amor Town!”

Viscount Grant almost gnashed his teeth as he turned his head, looking in the direction of Amor Town, “It’s too late to go back now.

Who knows if there is still an ambush, since the Natives want to steal our foundation, we’ll steal theirs too!”

“Catch up to those mixed-breeds, take advantage of this storm, and we’re going to annihilate the Natives’ main force in Amor Town!”