Killing the lizardman spy didn’t matter much, but the demonkin, facing the near-invincible Empire in their eyes, weren’t scared—just worried.
Lin Jun decided to use the spy as a morale booster, a sacrifice to rally spirits.
Truth was, it wasn’t just one lizardman tribe.
Two days later, Puffshrooms caught another spy, this time from a nearby half-demon tribe.
From Shòu, Starfire, and Louisa, Lin Jun learned about these half-demons.
Half-demons were mixed-blood offspring of demonkin with other races, or even different demonkin strains. Their types were varied, lumped together as “half-demons.”
Unlike demonkin or lizardmen, who chose self-exile due to ancestral loyalty to the Demon King, half-demons were outcasts, shunned.
While rare prodigies among them could shine, most were weak.
Diluted bloodlines weakened or erased racial talents. Multiple heritages meant their level-10 talent skill draws were a gamble.
Skills from mismatched races didn’t synergize, making them weaker than purebloods at higher levels.
This weakness worsened with each generation’s interbreeding, a downward spiral.
The Empire didn’t keep dead weight.
droves of half-demons were exiled yearly. Those who stayed were barely above slaves.
Even prodigies, blending the best of many bloodlines, could only change their own fate—not the half-demons’ lot.
Fleeing to humans, elves, or dwarves? They’d be killed as demonkin. Suicide, basically.
Some half-demon ancestors, desperate to rise, had burned that bridge for their descendants.
So, when the Empire dangled a promise of autonomous land, the North’s half-demon tribes were the most eager to answer.
This spy came from the closest half-demon tribe.
“Closest” was relative—four or five days’ travel away. The demonkin lived too far north, at the edge of the Far North.
Notably, even among North tribes, the cold was a barrier.
The demonkin’s isolation came from other races’ lack of high-level [Cold Resistance]. Most needed level 5 or 6 to survive the milder tundra, where soil mixed with ice.
The two spies, likely their tribes’ hardiest, had only level 7 [Cold Resistance]. They needed thick furs and nightly fires to operate here.
Any attacking force from these tribes couldn’t endure long. They’d aim for a quick win.
And Lin Jun loved enemies who bet on speed!
After pinpointing the tribes’ locations, the Mycelial Network, previously spreading evenly, now focused toward them, stretching to track their moves.
Were the tribes acting alone or coordinating?
His first large-scale battle had him a bit thrilled!
Meanwhile, in the lizardmen’s great tent.
Lizardman chief Tuck devoured chunks of fatty meat. Across from him sat Bastardos, the half-demon tribe’s leader, a chaotic mix of dragon, goblin, snakefolk, and succubus bloodlines.
They sat on either side, while three Empire envoys occupied the head.
If Shòu were here, he’d recognize the sullen one in the back—Gray, a demonkin he’d met once.
Despite Galen’s “last words” accusing Gray, the clan chief wasn’t blind to reason.
Gray had only reported the demonkin tribe’s status, nothing more. Sending Galen north was the chief’s call.
A moment’s thought cleared Gray of conspiracy.
But after confirming Galen’s last trail led through the lizardmen to the demonkin, Gray couldn’t dodge blame for bad intel costing a key member.
This mission was his chance to redeem himself.
He desperately hoped Galen was still alive…
With him were Payne, another demonkin, and Yuneer, a vampire.
The chief sent Gray and Payne to use the tribes as scouts, testing the demonkin tribe that trapped Galen.
They’d gauge its strength before acting.
But the Emperor, for unknown reasons, dropped Yuneer in to take command.
And Yuneer seemed set on steamrolling the demonkin tribe to wrap things up.
Gray didn’t mind.
Yuneer was a level 60 vampire countess, and Payne matched her level.
The half-demon leader, Bastardos, was also Hall-tier, though his mixed blood raised doubts about his combat strength.
With over twenty Diamond-tier fighters across the tribes, crushing a demonkin tribe shouldn’t be hard.
Demonkin were known for fierce combat but sparse numbers.
Especially a fallen tribe like this one.
Still, Gray stayed cautious. Galen fell there, after all.
Traps or tricks, they had ways to down high-level foes. Better stay sharp.
At the head, Yuneer’s pale fingers tapped the ice-dusted stone table, a faint tap-tap sounding.
Her crimson eyes flicked over the chiefs with mild scorn. “We’ve waited days. When will your tribes move out?”
Tuck swallowed his last bite, wiping his mouth with a claw. “Lady Envoy, it’s freezing up north. We need more prep! And even if my tribe’s ready, what about the half-demons? I’m not charging in alone!”
Bastardos shot Tuck a glance, flashing an ugly grin. His shrill voice chirped, “What’s that, Tuck? You go first, we’ll follow. Your lizard scales are tough, perfect for scouting. Safest for the big picture.”
“Bullshit!” Tuck’s eyes bulged, slamming the table with a boom. “My scales are thick, not iron! My life’s not cheap! Your worthless mongrels are better for scouting!”
“Enough!” Yuneer’s crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, pinning the bickering chiefs. “The Empire’s patience isn’t endless!”
“Three days!” she snapped, emphasizing each word with biting mockery. “Three days to muster your ‘elite.’ Dawdle after that… hmph…”
Bastardos and Tuck exchanged a look, muttering, “Yes, ma’am.”
(End of Chapter)
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