The land near Gale Castle is still filled with a thick smell of smoke.

Even though the fire has been put out, the charred, dark-red wooden framework still occasionally emits wisps of smoke.

On the flagpoles surrounding the camp, thirty-nine witches hang in neat rows, their blood and pus sliding down their swollen bodies, solidifying at their toes.

The witch rebellion last night dissipated into the void almost immediately after Nidesar arrived and launched a javelin charge.

Except for the mere five or six witches who managed to escape, all the witch slaves were either captured or killed.

Yet, sitting in the main seat of Gale Castle, Nidesar displayed little joy.

His face was sullen, silently stroking the back feathers of a sand sculpture.

The sand sculpture stood on the table, glaring menacingly at the nobles gathered around the black wooden long table.

Most of the nobles and bishops were dressed impeccably in fitting silk robes, wearing circular hats with tassels, sitting at the table, yawning loudly.

Since Nidesar called them over, nearly two members of time had passed, and many restless nobles couldn't sit still and kept shifting in their seats.

Yet none dared to speak because indeed, they had failed to keep watch over last night's events.

Finally, in the deathly silence, a rapid set of footsteps sounded from outside the door, and Zelaken walked steadily into the hall.

"Your Excellency, over seventy percent of the stored military provisions at Gale Castle have been lost," Zelaken glanced inconspicuously at the nobles present, "The witches did not accidentally set fire; it was deliberate, a large amount of provisions turned to ash."

"What are your thoughts?" Nidesar looked at the nobles present, and the implicit anger in his voice was evident to all.

Domenico coughed: "Those damned witches, they truly deserve to die."

"Yes, yes, truly damnable."

"We should hang a few more to serve as a warning."

The other nobles echoed.

"I'm asking for your opinions." Nidesar said coldly, "If it weren't for my sand sculpture war eagle seeing the state of the camp last night and me rushing back twenty miles in a night ride, those witches would likely all have escaped."

"It is my fault." The old matriarch of the Alco family stood up, trembling, and whispered with a quaver, "Your Excellency, it was my muddled old brain that held this banquet, please punish this useless old fool."

"Grandmother, you mustn't say that…"

"You meant to reward us. Who knew the guards left behind were so useless, weren't they the strong soldiers of Red Copper Fortress?"

Sitting while watching the old grandmother perform, Nidesar's irritation only grew more intense.

Finally, an old knight coughed: "Your Excellency, given the situation, it is no one's fault. We should think about how to recover the losses."

"Do you have a solution?"

"Gale Castle is easy to defend and hard to attack, blocking the key road to Red Copper Fortress, but it's not a traffic hub, making the supply of provisions extremely difficult." The old knight spread the map on the table, "How about we move forward to Dabudei…"

"Hahahahaha—"

Nidesar first murmured a laugh from his throat, then from his mouth and tongue, and he laughed madly:

"I understand now, if I don't attack, you burn the provisions to force me either to relinquish command or move the army forward?"

He was certain that the nobles of Jinhe Town were the culprits behind this arson, otherwise, there was no explanation for where the awakening potions came from.

He even realized why these nobles acted this way.

Since the battle of Monkulus ended, the witch named Jeanne led the army advancing rapidly at the pace of a crude fortress every seven days.

At the same time, they would expand outward from the fortress, dividing fields and land among local farmers.

Especially the properties of monasteries and churches, which were packaged and sold by the Salvation Army, allowing a large number of poor farmers and ordinary citizens to achieve class mobility.

With "The Promised Celestial Island" touring everywhere, the mindset of the villagers began to change.

Especially when they saw the knights defeated, unable to make a sound, just watching their properties divided, some inexplicable emotions emerged.

With the mountain overhead removed, breathing the air was surprisingly refreshing.

With the promotion from some of Kush descent, the phrases "Saintess" and "Saint's Grandson" quickly entered the daily lives of Jinhe Town's commoners.

In the past few days, even without Jeanne's intervention, the stewards and farm heads left in the plains automatically defected to the Salvation Army.

In some areas, the villagers, even before the Salvation Army arrived, tied up and burned the stewards and farm heads.

There were even scenarios where villagers and stewards vied to surrender, since whoever surrendered first stood to gain.

Whenever the Kush Knights attempted to strike, they were either intercepted by the Cuirassiers or the Holy Gun Cavalry, and any slight delay would mean being caught by the Black Hat Legion.

Nidesar was acutely aware that the knights of Jinhe Town were no match for the Salvation Army.

Thus the only savior could only be himself, who could easily handle the mages.

But unfortunately, his original tactic was to lure the enemy deep, then cut off their supply lines, finally encircle and annihilate them.

If Nidesar were still in the desert, those tribal lads would perfectly complete his tasks.

The people of Jinhe Town, although they seemed to follow his orders, in the end, acted on their own preferred commands.

If the Ibe Knights could follow orders, the Salvation Army wouldn't even have a chance to build a fortress.

However, they kept attacking the manorial estates turned into "Hundred Households" and were then surrounded by the Salvation Army.

The local nobles and bishops urged him to go to war several times, as if they had never heard him speak of follow-up plans.

The nobles lowered their heads, posing a submissive and frightened appearance: "You are too good at joking; how would we dare?"

"What wouldn't you dare to do?" On the verge of tearing his face, Nidesar couldn't care less, "Dare you swear that last night's burning warehouse has nothing to do with you? Swear before the Saint Master."

A trace of panic flashed across the faces of those nobles and knights, further confirming Nidesar's judgment.

"Swear it, it's not my fault!"

"Nidesar, hesitating before the rebels, I'm wondering if you're harboring bandits for your gain." Came the dissatisfied voice of the Jinhe Town Archbishop beside him.

Initially, he had to appease this Titled Knight, as they still relied on him to defeat the rebels.

But the bishop hoped he would defeat the rebels, fearing the rebels would seize his estate lands.

Now the rebels were seizing his estate lands, yet Nidesar remained still, merely sending knights for harassment.

Nidesar could leave whether he succeeded or failed, but these seated nobles and bishops still depended on their lands to survive.

"Ha!" Nidesar sneered as he looked at the Archbishop of Jinhe Town, "Then I'll return to Red Copper Fortress. You can fight yourselves."

"You!"

The Jinhe Town Archbishop over seventy years old, his face faint with age spots, turned red with anger.

"You want to defeat the rebels, and we want to defeat the rebels." This tense moment, the Old Ancestor stepped out with a gentle tone like coaxing children, "We need cooperation, but at least show some sincerity."

"Haven't I shown sincerity?" Nidesar's face looked as if he wanted to devour someone.

"What have you contributed so far?" The Old Ancestor stepped forward step by step, "Our estates, shops, and houses lose every second; you eat and drink from us yet refuse to fight, is this reasonable?"

Nidesar's face froze, impatiently waving his hand: "I have my own plan."

"But if you remain motionless, the nobles and knights are unsatisfied, and none are willing to execute your plan. What's the use of your plan here?"

Nidesar raised his head, for the first time, facing the elder he once considered a mascot.

"The Empire is much more complex than the desert. You're a stranger to us, but your formidable record convinced us to invite you to lead this campaign. But truthfully, you've disappointed us... "

"I've disappointed you." Nidesar glared, "If you could fight like my Tribal Warriors under my command, things wouldn't be like this now! You have disappointed me!"

Under the imposing threat, several nobles nearby paled noticeably, yet the Old Ancestor continued to squint her benevolent eyes:

"Your Tribal Warriors obeyed you because they couldn't achieve victory, and you brought victory when you came.

But our Imperial Knights see only that they cannot achieve victory, and you arrived but still couldn't bring victory. Why should we listen to you?

It's been over a month since the war began—have you captured or annihilated at least a squadron of them?"

Nidesar's imposing manner was suddenly awkward.

The Old Ancestor slightly turned her back and walked to the old Knight with the map in front, pointing at the map:

"If you wish to lead us, you must achieve a victory, at least to give confidence to the remaining knights, or they'll turn to the rebels."

Nidesar's face of anger gradually shifted to a look of contemplation.

He sat heavily on the plush seating, silent for a good five minutes before speaking: "I agree to move forward, but where to move, that's for me to decide."

"Of course, can you choose a location now so we can prepare summer provisions in advance?"

Nidesar pulled the map to his chest, pondered for a long time before pointing heavily to a location: "There it is, Black Mountain Castle."

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