Chapter 671: George's Willpower
“Boom!”
A shell detonated in the midst of the crowd, blasting several Ogres into the air. But Jushan, with his massive frame and thick armor, endured the blast unflinching. Shrapnel spines riddled his body, carving deep, fearsome wounds—but those wounds closed visibly before the eyes, healing at an unnatural pace. The shrapnel itself became embedded in his flesh, forming a jagged, armored plating across his skin.
“Roar—Useless, Empire dogs! You can’t kill me! You only make me stronger!”
Jushan swung his War Hammer, roaring defiantly, even crushing the skull of a nearby Ogre corpse that had rolled into his path.
“Jushan!”
“Front line—the Empire’s fortress! Crush them!”
“Dada-da-da-da—”
Along the Bastion’s battlements, a row of rifle barrels spat furious flames, firing in relentless volleys at the advancing Ogres. The guns burned red-hot from continuous fire.
More Ogres fell, piles of corpses stacking high—but the machine guns could no longer stem the tide. The Ogres charged fearlessly, unafraid of death, driven only by a single, unshakable will: I must fight.
At this moment, Jushan was less than two hundred meters from the Bastion. His sheer physical power and regenerative might made bullets feel like mere raindrops. He absorbed fire as easily as drinking water, leaving every Imperial soldier with a pounding headache.
With such proximity, artillery support was impossible. The battle had become brutal, hand-to-hand combat—pure strength versus strength.
To the Imperial soldiers, the Ogres seemed stupid, weak, almost laughable. Each of them had already slain dozens of the green-skinned beasts. But the problem was—there were too many.
The numbers were endless. Thousands followed Jushan in his charge, a dense, churning green wave that threatened to drown the entire battlefield.
How many can they even produce?
That thought echoed in every Imperial mind. They cursed the Ogres’ ancestors in crude Empire slang—though, strictly speaking, the green-skinned beasts had no families to insult.
An Ogre hefted a rocket launcher, aiming at the distant Jushan. “You damn, greasy, stinking, sewer-dwelling, wall-crack cockroach! I’ll roast you into meat!”
“Swoosh—”
A white trail split the air as a Fire Arrow shell streaked forward, aimed straight at the Ogre’s head.
But Jushan didn’t flinch. He scanned left and right, found nothing suitable—then casually yanked a random common Ogre from the crowd and hurled it like a missile.
“AAAAAHHH!”
The Ogre screamed in agony as the Fire Arrow detonated mid-air. The body exploded violently, spraying blood mist and scattering limbs like petals in a storm.
Another Fire Arrow came from afar. Jushan didn’t even bother pretending—he seized another unfortunate Ogre and threw it like a weapon. The explosion rang out again.
After all, finding a suitable Ogre was far easier than finding a suitable rock. Ogres were endless, scattered everywhere. Rocks were not.
The Ogre with the rocket launcher stared, stunned. After a long pause, he spat bitterly: “...Can you actually do that?”
Jushan glared up at the explosion, muttering: “All this is your fault, damn Empire scum! You—good Ogre, I’ll avenge you!”
He raised his hammer high, roaring: “Brothers! Charge with me! For the fallen! Waaaagh!”
“Right!”
“Revenge!”
The Ogres howled in fury, their charge growing even more ferocious.
Yet, those closest to Jushan remained suspiciously cautious—quietly backing away, terrified of being snatched and thrown like a weapon.
To the Empire’s officers and soldiers, the Ogres’ attack was pure chaos—no tactics, no coordination. It was like a swarm of mindless locusts.
But their sheer numbers made up for it. They could throw themselves into gaps like living shields, replacing fallen comrades in an endless cycle. Cooperation? Covering fire? All nonsense—dog’s nonsense.
At last, after over ten thousand deaths and the battlefield turned crimson, the Ogres reached the Bastion. The moment had come. The Empire could finally be counterattacked.
The distance between them was now less than a hundred meters.
Amidst the thunderous gunfire, Jushan advanced, his War Hammer raised like a shield, grinning triumphantly: “Empire dogs! You’re afraid! You fear our charge!”
Behind him, the Ogres’ collective aura grew stronger, spreading like a stormfront. Their force field now enveloped the entire Imperial defensive line.
Not only did bullets veer off course unpredictably, but several machine guns inside the Bastion suddenly sputtered and died, their mechanisms failing for no discernible reason.
“Damn it! What’s wrong with these guns?”
“The fuel system’s fine. Ignition’s intact. No wear on parts. These are brand-new heavy machine guns from the factory!”
“Kai Xiusu above—this defies all logic!”
Engineers frantically disassembled and inspected every component—fuel pumps, ignition modules—but found nothing wrong. No internal failure. No malfunction. Nothing.
This was the Ogres’ sheer, unyielding willpower—pure, irrational belief.
They were born war machines. Forged in the fusion of Ghuush and the Abyss, these green-skinned beasts could adapt instantly to any battlefield, becoming the favored children of blood and fire.
“Boom!”
Dozens of landmines along the defensive line detonated as the Ogres charged—but only half were triggered. Debris and soil erupted into the sky. Flesh fragments even flew into the Imperial trenches.
Jushan raised his hammer high, roaring: “We charge! Crush the Empire! Strip them bare of everything!”
“YES!”
“Waaaagh!!”
At last, they saw the Imperial soldiers. The sight sent waves of euphoria through them.
Like sharks scenting blood, the Ogres surged forward, eyes red, veins bulging beneath their skin, muscles twitching with raw, blood-fueled power. Their very bodies pulsed with a terrifying, frenzied aura.
In an instant, the force field intensified—unleashing a wave of pure will that swept over the defenders. Even hardened Half-Red Dragon veterans shivered.
But soon, the Imperial officers and soldiers reacted with practiced discipline. They quickly established overlapping fire zones, raised their rifles, and opened fire. Bullets poured forth like a storm.
Meanwhile, Ogre and Half-Red Dragon heavy infantry braced their Great Shields at the front, ready to absorb the beast tide.
Jushan glared at a nearby Ogre and snarled: “I remember you! You’re the one who shot me!”
The Ogre cursed under his breath—hate burning in his eyes. He hefted his rocket launcher, used his heavy shield as a rest, and aimed at the distant target. “Kill it! That green filth must die!”
“Hah! You’re afraid!”
“Son of a gun—I fought under King Kai Xiusu himself when we took down the Angels! I fear nothing, not even a miserable green vermin like you!”
With a snarl, he fired.
The Fire Arrow shell shot forth with a white trail, streaking toward the target.
“Waaaagh!”
Jushan charged forward through a storm of bullets, both hands gripping his War Hammer. He leapt into the air—over ten meters high—dodging the incoming shell meant for his head.
Then, from mid-air, he came down with a devastating Jumping Slash. Roaring, he descended with an aura of unstoppable force, his entire body radiating an overwhelming, terrifying power.
At that moment, the willpower of tens of thousands of Orcs converged upon Jushan. His strength surged. His face twisted into a monstrous visage. The hammer’s rear erupted in fire.
The veteran Ogre looked up, stunned. “He’s… just a green-skinned beast…”
“Boom!”
The sky trembled.
Jushan brought the War Hammer down—crushing the Ogre’s skull into pulp. Brain and bone scattered in all directions. The body sank deep into the ground, creating a massive crater.
For the first time since the war began, an Imperial soldier had fallen.
“Waaagh!”
“Crush them flat! Brutal Jushan! Powerful Jushan!”
“Strong! So strong! We’ll kill every last Empire dog!”
“Wait—what happened up front?”
“Jushan! Jushan’s leader killed an Imperial soldier! A big, strong one!”
“Good! Good!”
In an instant, the Ogres erupted in cheers. Tens of thousands of voices roared in unison, their screams shaking the heavens—so loud, it felt like the sky might split open.
Though their casualty ratio remained one to hundreds of thousands, this was a breakthrough. The first kill. A moment worth celebrating for every Green-Skinned Ogre.
“Jushan, sir! I want to fight too! Throw me in!”
“In?”
“Yes! Like you threw that unlucky egg as a tank! Toss me in!”
“Me too! Me too!”
Frenzied and mindless, the frontline Ogres were beyond reason. All that remained in their minds was slaughter and battle.
Some even begged Jushan to hurl them into the trench—so they could smash Imperial soldiers with their bone clubs and stone spears.
“Fine!”
Jushan nodded, picked up two Ogres, gave a grunt, and flung them into the air with ease.
The two Ogres soared high, looking down at the Imperial trench below. Clutching their crude weapons, they screamed in ecstasy: “Waaagh! Die! We’re coming!”
“Pfft!”
“Pfft! Pfft!”
Intense gunfire erupted. In stunned silence, the two Ogres were riddled with bullets—bloody, shattered, like rotten pumpkins—before plummeting from the sky.
Jushan scratched his head, muttering: “Huh… guess that didn’t work.”
“Pfft!”
“Gentlemen—these green filth have the audacity to defy us! This is an insult to the Empire!”
A gunshot rang out. Then came the familiar sound.
The soldiers turned, eyes snapping toward the source.
There, a man with brown hair and golden eyes stood—dressed in a crisp, well-kept military uniform. His left hand rested on a longsword, his right hand gripping a smoking silver revolver. Four golden five-pointed stars adorned his shoulder. On his left chest, a delicate, ornate Dragon Claw insignia—proof of his rank as an Empire Baron.
“It’s George, the Division Commander!”
“By Kai Xiusu, he’s come to the frontline himself!”
“I’ve heard—he clawed his way up from a Daitou soldier. Became Division Commander by personally killing a four-winged Angel!”
“Wait, wasn’t it six wings?”
“Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!”
George surveyed the battlefield, raised his pistol, and fired several shots into the air—each one a command, a call to attention.
“Don’t let their aura intimidate you! They’re just inferior green beasts! Don’t you want to be like me—arrogant, supreme, a Noble officer?!”
“Grab your swords, your rifles—fight for Emperor Kai Xiusu! For the Empire! For your bright future!”
His voice rang through the trench, stirring the blood in every soldier’s veins. The Dragon Blood within them stirred, hot and restless.
The Division Commander—George—had come to the frontline. A man who rose from the ranks, a living symbol of the Imperial Dream. The soldiers erupted in fervor.
“Right! Kill every damn green skin! Eradicate these pests!”
“For the Empire!”
“For Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
Veterans, hardened by war, rallied. The will of the Empire, the faith in Kai Xiusu—now fused into a single, unstoppable force.
They launched a furious counterattack.
“Boom! Boom!”
Hand grenades flew from the trench, detonating in mid-air. Dozens of Ogres were torn apart, limbs flying, bodies mangled.
Then, a dozen machine guns, over a hundred rifles—fired in unison, weaving a dense, deadly net of firepower. The front lines of Ogres fell like wheat before a scythe.
In seconds, the Ogres’ front line collapsed, retreating dozens of meters.
Now, Jushan stood alone.
To deal with this outlier, the Empire’s commanders deployed every trick in the book. George himself took command, orchestrating a precise, coordinated tactic.
“Swoosh—”
Dozens of metal spheres flew from different directions, streaking toward the Ogres.
Jushan roared upward, assuming the spheres were more explosive eggs. He swung his War Hammer wildly.
“No use! You can’t hurt me! Wait—we will slaughter you all!”
But to his surprise, the spheres cracked open mid-air, releasing vast, crackling nets of electric arcs.
Under the influence of the Ogres’ force field, half the spheres fell to the ground—but several still flew forward from all sides.
“WAAAAAGH!”
Jushan swung wildly, but the net caught him. Made of Dark Realm Spider Silk, the mesh was impossibly strong—even his might couldn’t tear it.
He struggled, but the net tightened, wrapping around him like a regiment of living chains.
“Electrify them.”
George gave a calm command.
Instantly, a surge of high-voltage current surged through the nets. Jushan’s skin blackened instantly, crisscrossed with grid-like burns. His body convulsed as screams of agony tore from his throat.
(End of Chapter)
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