The tips of his feet pressed into the only foothold, and Splitting Blade pressed his entire body against the rock slope to ensure his stability.
Once his body was securely anchored, Stone Fist slowly moved forward, stepping onto his knee and gradually using force to climb higher. For a moment, Splitting Blade felt as though a mountain was pressing down on his knee. He gritted his teeth and slowly drew in a breath.
His second foot found its place on Splitting Blade's shoulder, and at the next moment, Splitting Blade held his breath and slowly straightened his back. When he reached a certain height, the pressure on his shoulder eased, and Stone Fist hooked the edge of the mountain top, using a forceful push to flip over.
After a while, two ropes dropped down. One was tied around Splitting Blade's waist, while the other was used for the others to climb up.
One by one, the twenty or so strong men climbed up, stepping on Splitting Blade's shoulders. "Damn it..." Splitting Blade gasped for air, his entire body feeling as though it had been crushed by the claws of a wild beast countless times. At first, it was intense pain, but now it was numbness. "You guys really know how to eat..."
"Splitting Blade, it's your turn," Stone Fist's voice came from above, "Grab the rope, and I'll pull you up."
Splitting Blade nodded. He wasn't sure if Stone Fist could see the gesture, but at this point, he was too tired to speak, his vision darkening, and dizziness overtook him. He grabbed the rope with both hands, wrapping it twice around his wrists.
The rope tightened instantly, and he felt his body rising.
Damn it, my legs don't have any strength left. He gave a self-deprecating smile. It felt like a dead beast being dragged up by hunters, its hooves bound.
"Hey, Stone Fist, doesn't this feel like..."
Before he could finish, there was a sudden thud. Splitting Blade felt his body lighten, his head buzzing, and he was falling downward.
"Splitting Blade!"
"Be careful!"
The rope around his waist tightened instantly, and at the same time, he felt a vice-like grip around his wrists. Splitting Blade raised his head in alarm. Stone Fist's entire body was suspended in midair, both hands gripping his wrists tightly, blood dripping from his fingers down his arm.
His legs were firmly held by other warriors.
"Stone Fist, are you crazy?" Splitting Blade spat out.
"Splitting Blade, the leader sent me to save my fellow brethren," Stone Fist laughed with gritted teeth. "If anything happens to his brothers, do you think I can survive to face him again?"
After making it over the mountain top, the next task was to eat some dried food, stretch their limbs, and recover their strength. With nearly a hundred fire bombs to assist, the upcoming raid would be no trouble at all.
His palms ached from the rope, and Splitting Blade shook his arms, grabbing the hilt of his Giant Cleaver sword. The darkest part of the night had passed, and the sky to the east began to glow faintly, a dull blue-black streaking over the mountain base and the sky.
With the dim light, he could see the cold gleam of the Giant Cleaver's blade, the waves along its steel edge marking the traces of countless hours of forging. This old companion had been with him for many years, and during the Alliance War, it had drunk the blood of countless enemies.
It seemed that only the Giant Cleaver could calm his heart. Splitting Blade's fingers lightly traced the blade. He recalled the time when he had been a guard for the illegitimate son of the Wilderness Clan. A noble had once coveted this sword and sent someone to ask for it. If the illegitimate son had agreed, he would not have been able to keep the sword, even if he died.
But the illegitimate son had directly rejected the noble and even cursed him out.
Perhaps it was from that time that the illegitimate son became somewhat different in his eyes.
The sword wasn't particularly sharp, which was a characteristic of the Giant Cleaver. When his father had handed him this sword, he had said that his personality was too sharp and needed restraint, so he gave him this sword.
His father had forged countless swords and blades in his lifetime, but only a few had names. This seemingly clumsy "Concealed Blade" Giant Cleaver was made from a special red iron steel, crafted from the finest red iron crystal material, which his father called "Devil's Edge Steel." Several rare materials had been added to it.
But from the sword's appearance, no one could tell any difference. Aside from its deep dark sheen, the sword seemed plain. Yet for Splitting Blade, the characteristics and advantages of the "Concealed Blade" would only reveal themselves in battle.
His gaze shifted toward the Blood Scythe Camp below.
The several fire pits in the camp still emitted faint light, casting shadows of the camp's buildings against the dark night. The same dark night that once felt like endless darkness and solitude when he was with the royal family, but now, every day in the Hunter's Spear territory was filled with warmth and hope.
He thought of the ancient Alliance legends. There was a place of mountains and ice rivers, home to countless beasts, with ice towers towering among dark peaks, where the Forgotten Legion silently marched. It was said that the oldest king of the Alliance was born in those mountains.
Sometimes, after hearing so many stories sung by wandering bards, it was hard to distinguish between what was true and what was false.
Without those ballads praising heroes, he might never have abandoned his father's forging skills to join the army and step into the bloody world: it was on a night like this, they had ambushed the Black Throne. His brothers fought desperately on the blood-drenched River of Flowing Blood against the foreign army. The Blackwater Swamp swallowed countless warriors, many of whom had no names or tribes, their souls returning to the earth. The beast skulls hanging in the royal families of various clans were all stained with the blood of their brave warriors...
The past was vivid, similar to today but completely different. He had never imagined that one day, he would be fighting side by side with the foreign warriors. In his past military life, only the slave legions of foreigners existed, filled with filthy, foul-smelling, barbaric slaves.
Only now did he truly believe that these foreign warriors also had hearts full of blood and righteousness. He glanced at Stone Fist, who was distributing dried meat to his subordinates. The half-orc warriors, even while eating dried meat, were always on alert, as if ready for battle at any moment. Truly a group of warriors eager for combat.
Once they returned to the Hunter's Spear territory, he'd take off his magical armor and test their true abilities.