War clouds loomed over Dragon's Pool, and beyond Drake City stretched endless black tents.
A wild gale swept through, lifting a storm of sand and dust into the air.
Black banners emblazoned with the character 'Serpent' fluttered everywhere in the camp, snapping loudly in the wind.
In the open space at the center of this vast camp, the conscripted demons were divided into more than twenty phalanxes, a dense black mass like a sheet of cloth spread across the earth, leaving no gaps.
Around each phalanx stood city guard demon soldiers, armed to the teeth with long spears, packed tightly together. The spears pointed skyward like rows of iron bars.
Those demons trapped inside the chaotic phalanxes were like wild beasts caged in iron.
Now, these caged beasts gritted their teeth, eyes bloodshot, staring fiercely at the two riders moving slowly down the central aisle, separated from them by iron bars.
Gene Elk glanced back at the Monkey King, waving his riding whip with a smile. "You're the deputy general. If you don't show some authority, how can you command these thousands of troops?"
The Monkey King just echoed his smile, covering his mouth to cough twice.
He still looked sickly and dispirited.
Gene Elk sneered, turning away from the Monkey King and inspecting his troops as if Simon no longer existed.
Just days ago, he had been constantly worried that this newly favored, formidable colleague would snatch away his position.
Now, it seemed he had been worrying over nothing.
"Ha ha ha ha!" Suddenly, he burst out in cheerful laughter.
His laughter only fueled the anger in the eyes of the ragtag soldiers.
These newly conscripted forces were only roughly organized. From afar, they looked uneven and chaotic, still bearing the appearance of refugees.
Their weapons and armor were all mismatched; apart from being painted black, there was hardly anything in common among them.
Through the ranks of iron spears, Simon saw a giant elephant demon, over thirteen feet tall, draped only in a tattered black cloth—perhaps once a proper uniform.
A nine-foot-tall boar demon wore a helmet barely wider than his snout, so askew it seemed ready to tumble off at any moment.
A four-foot-tall mole demon hefted a broadsword taller than himself, his wobbling stance making Simon worry he'd topple over just trying to lift it.
This was the army about to be sent into battle against the fully armed South Heaven Gate troops. In stark contrast stood the city guard, perfectly uniformed and well-equipped, dividing the demon forces from one another.
"Heh..." Simon couldn't help but laugh, his tone icy and cold.
He had now seen firsthand how perfunctory the Serpent Lord's arrangements truly were.
At this moment, anyone could see the viciousness of this plot.
But what could they do? They couldn't defeat the Heavenly Army, nor could they stand up to the Serpent Lord. There was no escape from this lair.
They were nothing more than meat laid out on the chopping block.
Bloodshot eyes glared at Gene Elk, who laughed wildly atop his horse. Yet in that moment, Gene Elk saw only the sickly Monkey King, oblivious to the clenched fists and murderous stares aimed his way.
Invisible undercurrents had already formed; by now, this army was a powder keg, barely held together by the Serpent Lord's oppressive presence.
All that was missing was a single spark to ignite it.
With Simon in tow, Gene Elk ascended the platform. The crowd below was silent, save for the whistling wind.
Gene Elk coughed twice and began his speech, just as he had done in years past.
Even after he finished, the crowd remained utterly silent.
No applause, no cheers, no passionate shouts—only the chilling sound of grinding teeth and heavy breathing.
And those eyes, brimming with hostility.
Awkwardly, Gene Elk signaled to his attendants, who began a forced cheer. But the ragtag troops quickly drowned it out with jeers.
In the end, Gene Elk only made himself more embarrassed.
Perhaps even the Serpent Lord had expected this outcome, knowing the rally was a farce—which was why the demon king never planned to attend.
Ultimately, Gene Elk could only announce the army's departure in defeat.
And so, the absurd scene came to an end.
With six battered airships hauling supplies, this uncoordinated force began to snake across the land, dragging its feet, failing to reach the designated spot even by dusk.
The floating warships hovered in the sky, their hatches open as ropes lowered all kinds of supplies to the ground.
The city guards deftly set up tents and built stoves, while the demon troops could only watch helplessly.
All supplies were divided into two tiers.
Perhaps the stingy Serpent Lord thought that any resources spent on these wretches were a waste.
The city guards had fine tents and clean food, while the demon troops received only charred flatbread. Whether they were carnivores or vegetarians, that was their own problem.
With the Monkey King in tow, Gene Elk entered the spacious main tent.
"Tomorrow is the decisive battle," Gene Elk said, gesturing at the sand table in the center of the tent. "You’ll lead ten thousand troops from this direction, pass through here, and arrive at this point before dusk."
The Monkey King squinted at the sand table for a long moment before asking, "Why take this route? Isn’t it easy to get ambushed here?"
"It won’t happen," Gene Elk replied absently, unbuckling his sword and placing it on the table.
(Irrelevant web navigation passage. Skipped.)
"Why?"
"I said it won’t, so it won’t. Why so many questions?" Gene Elk’s tone grew impatient.
How dare this half-crippled Monkey King challenge him?
The Monkey King smiled faintly, eyes fixed on Gene Elk. "How do you know there won’t be an ambush? Did the Heavenly Army tell you they won’t be waiting there?"
"You—!" Gene Elk spun around, glaring. "His Majesty instructed you to obey my orders. Just follow commands."
The Monkey King paced slowly to the chair beside the sand table, looked up, and smiled. "Don’t you know the saying: ‘Once a general is in the field, the king’s orders may not be followed’?"
Gene Elk turned in anger, but at the moment their eyes met, he froze.
The smile on that face, the look in those eyes—there was something different.
The limp was gone, the cough vanished, the weary spirit had disappeared… The Monkey King of old seemed to have returned in an instant!
The feeling was chilling.
The contempt that once filled Gene Elk’s face vanished, replaced by terror.
"What is this…?"
...
Outside the tent, campfires crackled in iron basins.
Dozens of demon soldiers stood guard around the main tent, yawning as if nothing unusual was happening.
"I’ll kill you—!" came a furious shout from afar.
"Help!"
Big Horn, swinging his massive axe, chased Louis Quickpaw, who was fleeing desperately toward the main tent.
All the guards turned to look at them.
Taking advantage of a momentary distraction, two tall figures quietly slipped into the shadows of the main tent.
"Stop! Which unit are you two from?" a demon officer barked, striding out to confront them.
Big Horn instantly dropped his axe and pointed at Louis Quickpaw. "He… he stole my bread!"
Seeing someone intervene, Louis Quickpaw darted behind the officer. "He’s lying! General, just look at me—so small, how much could I possibly eat? Why would I steal his bread?"
The officer glanced down at Louis Quickpaw, seemingly convinced, then fixed Big Horn with a cold stare. "Where’s your badge? Show me your badge."
"I… I lost it."
"Lost your badge in the camp? Are you kidding me?"
"I really lost it! It’s all that damned bird’s fault. If not for him, I—"
As the argument grew more heated, scattered demons around the camp began to gather, eager to watch the commotion.
Even the soldiers guarding the main tent found their attention drawn to the scene.
The officer was berating Big Horn when suddenly he caught a hint of a smile on Big Horn’s face.
The look of grievance vanished, replaced by a sly smile.
The officer was momentarily stunned.
At that moment, the surrounding demons all raised their weapons in unison.
"What are you doing—! Stop!"
Before he could react to what was happening, he was trampled into a bloody pulp.
The main tent guards, who had been watching the commotion, realized something was wrong. They grabbed their weapons and tried to rush out to rescue their comrades, but as soon as they stepped outside, they found themselves completely surrounded.
Inside the tent, the remaining demon soldiers were quickly cut down by a Black Minotaur and Boar Pete, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Blood splattered across the tent fabric.
Inside the main tent, Gene Elk listened to the chaos and screams outside, trembling as he looked at the Monkey King’s faintly smiling face.
He remembered the figure who had once swung a staff through a thousand troops, remembered the one who stood atop a mountain of corpses, surveying the demon horde.
His hand crept toward his sword hilt, sweat beading on his forehead.
"What are you planning?" the Monkey King asked with a cheerful smile.
Though his words were light, they struck Gene Elk’s heart, making him tremble. His hand shrank back from the sword hilt.
No, I don’t have to lose to him. His strength must have waned. Maybe now… I can win easily… He tried to bolster himself with these thoughts.
The Monkey King glanced at Gene Elk’s trembling hand, lowered his head, and pulled back his wrist guard, gently crushing the array carved into his wrist.
Instantly, a wisp of dark energy dispersed from his body, and his face quickly regained its healthy color.