"Given this turn of events, I doubt the Blue Light team will be in the mood to hold their meeting tonight," Zi remarked suddenly.

Reef pondered for a moment: "That's hard to say. If they proceed, it proves their immense strength, that they don't care about such trivial matters. However, if the situation in the valley can be resolved flawlessly, then convening the alliance on the victorious momentum of a successful rescue might also be quite beneficial; they would undoubtedly secure greater influence!"

Ronnie held the utmost admiration for Fang Senyan when it came to strategy, as he often found that Fang Senyan could pinpoint the crucial pivot point of any issue at the most opportune moment. Thus, he couldn't help but ask with curiosity: "Boss, if it were you, how would you handle it?"

Fang Senyan, who had remained silent until then, smiled faintly: "If it were me, I would convene this meeting right after the first day's main assault concludes. In this damned world, words are meaningless; only strength reigns supreme! I would use the crushing power displayed on the first day to conquer them."

Ronnie countered: "But what if the Blue Light team doesn't possess that overwhelmingly dominant strength?"

Fang Senyan smiled and retorted: "What happens if you stuff a hundred people into an elevator designed for a maximum of ten?"

Silence descended upon them. Fang Senyan spoke seriously: "It will crash down from dozens of floors with a terrifying sound!! A mangled mess of flesh and blood, the elevator itself completely mangled! A truly unbearable sight! I don't know what the Space has arranged for the current chaotic situation, but it is clear that the contractors from the other weaker Spaces are already showing signs of large-scale organized activity..."

At this point, both Zi and Reef frowned deeply. Fang Senyan's words pressed down on their hearts like heavy stones! Everyone had heard the analogy of how one chopstick snaps easily, but a bundle of them is unbreakable.

Fang Senyan stated coldly: "So, I believe that right now, it's not just me—many others are waiting, observing. If the Blue Light team truly has the capability and acts with fairness, then complying with their directives is no great matter. To face an enemy that is well-organized with a scattered mob is an act only a fool would commit."

The coordination meeting of the Blue Light team was ultimately never held.

The war flames scorched half the sky. The fierce battle raged until midnight. During this time, the Blue Light team even reinforced their position twice! Such an action, frankly speaking, was detrimental to morale from a macro perspective, and tactically, feeding reinforcements piecemeal (the 'water-pouring' tactic) is a major taboo. Haven't we seen countless stories where the Big BOSS, too lazy to fight personally, sends subordinates out one by one, from weakest to strongest, to feed experience points to the protagonist, only to be overturned by the max-level hero in the end?

However, the outcome of this battle was a victory. Of course, or so the rumors claimed. And this "victory" depended entirely on how one defined it. If it meant driving the enemy out of the Nan Goroth Valley, then it was an undisputed, massive success. But the Nan Goroth Valley was not the walls of Minas Tirith; driving the enemy out of that location... was utterly meaningless!

The great fire that dyed half the night sky was fueled by the watchtowers and arrow towers built by the Orcs, naturally, as well as the dense, lush trees covering the valley. The fallen autumn leaves, stripped of moisture, caught fire instantly, making it impossible not to fan the flames.

In fact, when Fang Senyan woke up and stretched, not a single heavily loaded wooden cart carrying supplies had returned from the Nan Goroth Valley. The raging fire had burned through half the night and was still intensifying.

For Fang Senyan and his group's stored five carts of stone and timber, this was minor news. But for Sauron's side, this was genuinely a bad omen.

Fortunately, after dawn, the rapidly assembled army of two hundred thousand Orcs instilled immense confidence. On the broad Pelennor Fields, the Orc legions formed four impeccably arranged, massive corps, seemingly suppressing the entire plain with overwhelming force, making even the morning mist tremble and dissipate rapidly. The sun seemed unwilling to witness the horrific slaughter about to unfold, retreating early into the clouds.

Looking down from the walls of Minas Tirith presented an entirely different scene: some felt dread, others excitement, some bitterness, and others awe. "So many..." A man holding a tall, transparent crystal glass containing a mere half-cup of blood-red wine watched the astonishing, vast array below, saying in a tone of deep reflection.

But his contemplation was as casual as if he were watching an elegant dance or listening to a classic song. This composure, this demeanor of viewing the two hundred thousand Orcs below as nothing more than chickens and dogs, was certainly not something an ordinary person could possess. "Wouldn't you agree, MCDH?"

The man inquired. A man carrying a sniper rifle walked over. His expression was utterly calm, giving the impression of a still, deep lake—clean and clear. Beside him stood a fiery woman, as passionate as a blossoming, ardent rose. Whether by coincidence or design, this man was MCDH, the powerful sniper whom Fang Senyan had once saved during the previous Bloody World. But the former comrade in arms was now destined to be an opponent! "Indeed, Sir. So many contribution points," MCDH replied succinctly. "Why not start the battle sooner, Sir?"

The Sir fixed his gaze upon MCDH. He possessed a pair of eyes as deep blue as the ocean, or perhaps the sky itself. Anyone meeting his gaze would inevitably be captivated by those transparent, azure eyes, so like the sky and sea, that they would forget the rest of his features.

Though the Sir remained silent, someone nearby chuckled. This man was bald, powerfully built, with every muscle clearly defined, yet he was surprisingly clad in a sky-blue magic robe. If Fang Senyan were present, he would surely recognize this acquaintance—it was Drubah, who had played matchmaker for him and **! "What's wrong, MCDH? Are your hands itching? Why didn't you join us for the raid on the Nan Goroth Valley last night? Even though the Boss didn't go, his mere contribution of enchanting our weapons earned him over two hundred contribution points."

MCDH stated quietly: "That small skirmish wasn't suited for me. My brothers are suited for large-scale confrontations. Frankly, I am quite looking forward to the appearance of the Dark Side's terrifying Mammoth Elephants; that way, the biological warheads I risked my life to retrieve from the Bioweapon World will finally have a proper use."

"They are beginning to move," the Sir said, taking a small sip of his wine and narrowing his eyes. "Give it one hour, no, half an hour, and I will know if we can win this fight."

"Boss, we are destined to win!" Drubah declared boldly. "The opposition relies on nothing more than the superiority of their Space, perhaps having more elite contractors than us, but we have more people overall! Moreover, even if quality matters more than quantity, don't we still have the Apostle's promise..."

Here, Drubah suddenly clamped his mouth shut, not uttering the rest of his sentence, as he noticed the Sir glancing at him. A look devoid of joy or sorrow. Drubah instantly felt as if he had stuffed a pair of smelly socks in his mouth, his face contorting in distress.

The Sir then stated placidly: "Pinning one's hopes on others, at any time, is a foolish endeavor."

"A profoundly foolish endeavor!"

"Setting aside all external factors, entering the Minas Tirith battlefield already gives us a subtle advantage. This is because, according to the established storyline, the eventual victor is the Gandorians! From another perspective, the two scarcest resources in a siege defense are the number of defenders and materiel. Our influx of contractors, giving us numerical superiority, perfectly fills the most critical gap in Minas Tirith's defense. We can provide ranged firepower far superior to the defenders' archers, and our ammunition supplies are sufficient to devastate the entire Middle-earth!"

The Sir spoke calmly, as if he were rehearsing these words to himself rather than addressing others, reinforcing his certainty that his judgment was flawless! "As for the enemy contractors joining Sauron's side—while they are indeed elite, Sauron's faction already possesses an abundance of elite troops! They cannot offer aid where it is most needed. The utility of all their contractors to Sauron's side might not even equal that of three hundred catapults!"

"Therefore, even taking a conservative view, if the roles played by our respective contractors cancel each other out, victory will still belong to us if we simply hold out until the end! Furthermore, the Orc coalition has a distinct advantage in the initial stages of the war—precisely before the cavalry charge led by King Théoden of Rohan! Translated into our current campaign, this means the first forty-eight hours of the battle!"

Saying this, the Sir drained the glass of red wine, closed his eyes as if savoring the mellow flavor, and after a long pause, slowly continued: "So, if the other side fails to breach the city within forty-eight hours, they will never have the chance. Consequently, I only need to watch their offensive for half an hour to roughly determine... the victor!"

MCDH, being relatively cautious, interjected: "But we cannot ignore variables... There's a saying: Man proposes, God disposes. Perhaps that applies here."

The Sir responded calmly: "If the opponent has trump cards, why shouldn't we? If they dare to lay down four Aces, can't I present a Straight Flush? Therefore, I am not one to speak rashly. I will repeat my statement: If they cannot break the city within forty-eight hours, they will never break it. On this point, I believe someone on their side must also realize it."