Chapter 228: The Blizzard Legion’s Decision

It was a long winter, with large snowflakes falling from the sky, causing great trouble for the recovery of the injured soldiers. Shaoke got sick for the first time because of his wounds, but the careful care of the physicians and the White-robed Cleric allowed him to slowly recover.

After several days of marching, the group only slowed down upon reaching the area controlled by the Blue Feather Empire. Here, they no longer had to worry day and night about attacks from the Esuoer Empire. They could also seek out smaller supply depots for food and a few simple luxuries.

Shaoke lay quietly in his tent, meditating, but with the arrival of Mage Yisier, he quickly stopped his meditation. Although he didn’t care much about her attitude, facing a mage who could lecture him for a magic hour or more, he chose to stop the meditation that could affect his body to avoid her preaching. Even so, Yisier still brought the White-robed Cleric to give him a lecture.

Faced with his companions’ good intentions, Shaoke tried to divert their attention with other topics. This time, he chose to embrace her.

Ignoring the White-robed Cleric’s presence, the male mage suddenly grabbed the female mage’s arm, pulled her forcefully onto his simple bed, and quickly wrapped his arm around Yisier’s waist, preventing her from leaving. The White-robed Cleric, in this situation, just blushed and left Shaoke’s tent, returning to her own quarters.

“Your wounds haven’t healed yet,” Yisier said, struggling slightly before going limp in Shaoke’s arms, though she was careful not to press on his injured arm. “I hope to get more rest this time; I feel I’m close to advancing,” she added with some worry. “But I don’t have the advancement array for Sixth Rank! I’m worried this advancement might go wrong because of the time crunch.” She grabbed his hand that had slipped inside her robe and held it still, since that would easily break her train of thought.

“Don’t worry. If possible, delay it a bit,” Shaoke sighed softly, offering the solution neither wanted. Prolonged delays could greatly increase the chance of failure during advancement. If Mage Yisier failed multiple times due to delays, she might never advance to Sixth Tier Mage.

“I should have asked for those advancement arrays earlier,” Yisier sighed softly, releasing Shaoke’s hand. “If I fail, will you still treat me the same way?” She felt the male mage tug sharply at her chest’s curve, and a soft, pained moan escaped her lips.

“I remember you said last time you had about three years left before advancing,” Shaoke said, lightly punishing her. “It won’t fail.”

“I didn’t expect my mental energy to grow so fast; I haven’t been meditating for long periods,” the female mage said, closing her eyes and falling silent. She arched her chest a little, making it easier for Shaoke’s hand to move inside her clothes, a series of soft moans echoing in the tent. “I regret maxing out my magic power so early.” She writhed with his movements, the stimulation from his hand too intense.

After a bout of fondling, the female mage trembled all over, her chest arched into a perfect curve. A peculiar scent filled the tent. “Don’t move anymore. You should rest,” she said, coming to her senses, kissed Shaoke’s forehead, and hurried out to change her undergarments in her tent.

After she left, Shaoke resumed his meditation. Based on past experience, this session would last about three magic hours, after which Mage Yisier would bring dinner to his tent. He wasn’t concerned about the negative effects of meditating while injured, as his special constitution prevented such issues.

When Shaoke emerged from deep meditation, an irritated Mage Yisier and the White-robed Cleric were sitting beside him, staring intently.

The White-robed Cleric spoke first, casting a support spell on him and reminding him that such behavior was bad for his health, hoping he’d be more careful—other mages didn’t do this. Mage Yisier gently massaged his injured shoulder, which helped speed recovery.

“The commander is angry now. Many mages have gone to console him. You should go too,” Yisier said, shifting the topic to the officer leading their group. “He’s listened to your advice before. I think this time it’ll work too.”

“What’s wrong?” Shaoke frowned, puzzled that the commander, who hadn’t lost his temper in years, was now angry. This seemed serious. “I’ll go now,” he said, heading for the commander’s tent, but the two women stopped him—he hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

With Yisier’s help, Shaoke quickly ate some food, grabbed his staff, and went to the commander’s tent. The tent, not too large, was packed with mages and other professionals familiar with the commander. The atmosphere was heavy, and all eyes fell on Shaoke as he entered.

“Mage Xueye, what’s the matter?” The commander, a middle-aged man usually cheerful, now looked grim.

“Can you tell me what’s happening? I heard you’re in a bad mood,” Shaoke said, glancing at the other guests, whose expressions were equally dark. They seemed unable to calm the commander and had instead been swayed by him.

“This year, the orders for our units aren’t coming from the high-ranking officers of the military department, but from a bunch of inexperienced brats from who knows where,” the commander said, waving his hands in the air. “The Blizzard Legion suffered heavy losses because of these kids before, and now they’re giving us orders again.” He cursed the military department, wondering why they let such people command them during a tense war.

“What’s worse, for the losses we suffered recently, the military department just said the intelligence was wrong and hoped we’d understand.” The commander paced. “Why didn’t intelligence go wrong in the past twenty years? Why does it keep going wrong as the war ends? Damn it, if those brats aren’t punished, I won’t lead you on any more missions.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve sent messages to several Legion Commanders; I believe they’ll support this decision.” He sat down. “Mage Xueye, if you were the commander, how would you handle this?”

“If everything is as you say, their every wrong command has cost us many warriors. The last battle alone killed over a dozen mages and an Archer,” Shaoke said, spinning his staff. “If possible, the military department should offer their lives as a sacrifice for the dead.”

“But you shouldn’t lose your cool. If the other warriors hear this, things could get bad,” Shaoke added, looking around at the other guests, hoping they’d keep the news quiet.

“They said the same, but since I got the news, calm has left me,” the officer said, waving his arms. “Many familiar companions are gone, and I’ve always thought it was my fault.” He lowered his head, gesturing for the guests to leave so he could calm down again.

The mages and a few other professionals left the commander’s tent, only those very close to him staying behind.

When Shaoke returned to his tent, Mage Yisier, still waiting, carefully checked his wound. Thanks to the physicians’ medicine, it had healed well, with no signs of worsening from walking. After adjusting his robe, she asked about his visit to the commander.

Shaoke sat by the fire, tossing in a few logs, and recounted the officer’s words. As soon as he finished, Yisier waved her staff angrily, her face flushed, her voice trembling.

“Do they see us as tools to practice their command skills? Or as a way to boost their achievements?” She recalled the companions who had fallen beside her—some former suitors, some female friends she’d met in the Blizzard Legion. She remembered the Fifth Tier Wandering Mage who, in the first battle this year, had his body blasted away by an enemy Ritualist while shielding her from a spell she couldn’t intercept. She couldn’t help but weep softly.