Perhaps to prove his resolve to Simon Sun, the war drums—rare on Frost-Rain Mountain—thundered at dawn, echoing across the slopes.
Led by King Bullhorn, roughly five thousand flying demons assembled and launched a 'suicidal' charge against one of the three detachments of the Heavenly Fleet, specifically the one commanded by the avian general. Among them were many at Spirit-Refinement Stage and above.
This was the largest counterattack in days.
Yet only King Bullhorn took part; none of the other Demon Kings were present. They must have quarreled again.
Perhaps Simon Sun’s antics the previous night had lifted their spirits—this time the charge seemed truly effective, even smashing through the Fleet’s outer defenses.
In response, Simon Sun and Nigel Wyrm stepped in to pin down the other two Heavenly detachments, keeping them from reinforcing.
For the demon horde, it was an inspiring sight.
Ordinary demons, confused and without orders, began rushing into the fray. At the height of the battle, besides the initial five thousand flyers, nearly thirty thousand ground demons poured from the caves, unleashing volleys of arrows at the Heavenly Fleet. For a moment, the demon tide was overwhelming, leaving the Fleet stunned.
But their advantage lasted only a moment.
As soon as the avian commander recovered, the Heavenly Fleet steadied its formation and prepared to strike back.
Then, something truly shocking happened.
Faced with a torrential rain of arrows from the Skyward Legionnaires, the ground demons wailed and fled like a receding tide, while the flying demons above fell into disarray, allowing the Heavenly Fleet to slice and surround them.
In just half an hour, before the other two armies could even move to reinforce, King Bullhorn—who had only been feinting at the rear and never entered the front line—turned tail and ran, leaving the demon army to collapse in defeat, their corpses strewn across the battlefield.
The Heavenly Fleet pressed its advantage, pursuing relentlessly and harvesting another swath of demon lives.
In the end, the demons cowered in their caves, trembling, while the Heavenly Fleet hovered outside, hurling insults with flapping wings.
By noon, aside from the blood and bodies littering the ground, everything seemed to return to its previous stalemate.
The battle was over.
"Ten to one... It's completely one-sided. Is there any point to fighting like this? Even if every demon here is wiped out, Heaven might lose at most ten thousand soldiers... maybe not even that many." Nigel Wyrm's jaw nearly dropped.
Monkey stared expressionlessly at the field of corpses for a long, long time. Finally, he sighed and turned away, saying, "Didn't you see it?"
"What do you mean?" Nigel hurried after him.
These six guys... They lumped all their Spirit-Refinement demons into one unit, let the rest do whatever they wanted, and there’s no sign of any leadership. What do you expect from an army with no backbone? Large-scale battles are all about command and coordination, but in their ranks, the lesser demons are just filler—at best, a distraction for the enemy. Worse, even the Spirit-Refinement demons have no discipline, just charging at a single order, then doing their own thing and leaving their fate to chance.
Saying this, Monkey sighed helplessly again.
How is this any different from a bunch of cavemen brawling? Utterly hopeless!
Turning back, Monkey suddenly noticed Nigel Wyrm’s blank expression.
Well, it’s not just those six—Nigel’s no better.
Demons as a race have never had any concept of military discipline or tactics. I’m hardly an expert myself, but with years of practice, I’m still way ahead of them.
The threat posed by the Six Demon Kings has dropped a bit, but is that really a good thing? The danger from the Heavenly Fleet has only increased.
In the afternoon, King Bullhorn led another charge, this time with only two thousand. As for the scattered little demons, only a few would dart out of the caves, shoot a couple of arrows at the sky, then dash back inside.
On the Heavenly Fleet’s side, only one detachment bothered to engage—the other two just watched as if it were a show.
Seeing this, Monkey and Nigel naturally tried to join the fray, but the other two Heavenly detachments intervened, actually pinning Monkey and Nigel down instead.
In less than the time it takes an incense stick to burn, King Bullhorn ran, and the demon army collapsed.
The only thing worth celebrating was that, because they ran so fast, there were almost no casualties.
"Were these guys raised on dog shit or something?" That was Nigel Wyrm’s final verdict on the Frost-Rain demons.
Monkey couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
For the next two days, King Bullhorn kept up his charade, repeatedly leading charges only to run away, with the number of demons dwindling from two thousand to just a hundred—who often would dart out only to scurry back even faster than Bullhorn himself.
As for the Heavenly Fleet, they spent each day polishing their swords and waiting for Bullhorn’s charge. Their plan to smoke out the caves was still stalled, and the whole battle had reached a deadlock.
Monkey even felt that his nightly raids were more effective than Bullhorn’s charges—he’d basically become the main force in the fight.
The only thing to be thankful for was that neither side could see when this war would end. As long as the fighting here dragged on, the Heavenly Fleet couldn’t move on Blossom Mountain.
But will Marshal Silver really just keep grinding it out like this?
On the third morning, a Heavenly Fleet warship, loaded with water and escorted by over fifty Heavenly Generals, began spraying it across Frost-Rain Mountain.
"What are they trying to do?" Monkey gestured, and a droplet of water sprayed from the warship floated into his palm.
"Could it be poisoned?" Nigel Wyrm asked.
"Would you drink water sprayed by the Heavenly soldiers?"
"No."
"Then that settles it."
"So what do you think the water they're spraying means?"
Monkey stared at the droplet in his palm, frowning for a long moment before telling Nigel, "Keep watching here. I'm heading to Stillwater Valley."
...
In the Hall of High Heaven, all the immortals had gathered.
Grandmaster White, smiling, stepped to the center of the hall, bowed to the Jade Emperor, and said loudly, "Your Majesty, I have something to report."
"What urgent matter do you have?"
"It concerns the special permission granted for the Heavenly Fleet to help suppress Blossom Mountain."
"Oh?" The Jade Emperor hesitated slightly, stroking his long beard. "Marshal Silver only just received the imperial decree—do you already have a battle report?"
"Indeed." Grandmaster White lifted his chin, smiling. "I have heard that after Marshal Silver received Your Majesty’s decree, he did not go to Blossom Mountain in Eastrealm, but instead marched on Frost-Rain Mountain in the Southern Lands."
At these words, the court broke out in murmurs.
The Jade Emperor’s face shifted slightly as he glanced at General Curtain nearby.
General Curtain quickly bent to whisper in his ear.
Hearing this, the Jade Emperor nodded and smiled at Grandmaster White: "You worry too much. I was already aware of this. The demons of Frost-Rain Mountain and Blossom Mountain are allies; to suppress Blossom Mountain, one must first deal with Frost-Rain Mountain. Marshal Silver’s actions are perfectly reasonable."
"Oh?" Grandmaster White watched the Jade Emperor with a faint smile. "Then, does Your Majesty also know that the Heavenly Fleet has already used Plaguewater at Frost-Rain Mountain, poisoning all living things in that region?"
The Jade Emperor’s face froze, and the immortals erupted in shock.