Out of those twenty-five colossal catapults, fifteen had been rushed into existence by the smiths of Mordor within the span of a single afternoon, yet they remained silent, deliberately concealed until the precise moment. Including the previously held machines and those acquired through the Contractors' redemptions, a total of twenty-five units were stealthily transported under the cloak of night and quietly assembled at the front lines.

Within Minas Tirith itself, the city had been churned into a boiling, thick stew by the battering ram Grond and the nine Nazgûl Knights circling overhead, leaving them completely oblivious to the activity happening elsewhere.

At the given signal, the twenty-five massive catapults violently swung their arms back, unleashing a torrent of burning pitch projectiles and massive stones directly at the walls of Minas Tirith. Under such circumstances, the combined force of those twenty-five siege engines could not be underestimated; they were the undisputed main thrust for this third wave of attack.

"Then the fourth wave of attack…" Fang Senyan understood perfectly. With his strategic acumen, it wasn't difficult for him to foresee the opponent's hidden card at this stage. He watched the figures beginning to mass in the darkness, realizing that the third and fourth offensives were designed to complement each other.

Indeed, this was the only troop type capable of genuinely threatening the walls of Minas Tirith: the Orc Arsonists!

Their thirty-meter attack restriction meant they had to infiltrate right beneath the walls to launch an effective assault. Furthermore, giant catapults were not artillery; after every five or six volleys, they required inspection and resetting of the tension cords, otherwise, they would break down too quickly. This created a crucial ten-to-twenty-minute window of artillery silence.

During this lull, the Orc Arsonists could silently slip beneath the walls to continue their relentless bombardment against the already ravaged first tier, spreading fire, noxious smoke, and foul stench across the battlefield!

These four assaults were intricately linked and mutually supportive. Fang Senyan could even discern that the seemingly strongest push, the charge of Grond, was merely a feint. The true killing blow was aimed at the section of the wall intelligence suggested by the 'Blue Light' team to be vulnerable.

Why was Grond considered a feint? Because it was an iconic weapon from the films. Given the level of detail the 'Jays' team had achieved—even surveying the terrain and geology around Minas Tirith without setting foot on the battlefield—it was inconceivable that they wouldn't have countermeasures prepared for such a known threat.

"Do you see any flaws in my plan?" Fang Senyan asked suddenly, half-reclining on the couch, eyes closed.

His only companion at that moment was the stoic old butler, Old Charlie, who usually shadowed Fang Senyan like a ghost, possessing virtually no presence, but capable of exerting genuine influence precisely when Fang Senyan required it.

After hearing the question, Old Charlie was silent for a moment:

"There are almost none, but the risk taken is truly immense!"

Fang Senyan responded with five simple words:

"Fortune favors the bold."

The battle raged fiercely above and below the walls, yet Fang Senyan remained alone in his tent, going over his plan again and again. Only when he was certain there were no glaring weaknesses did he collapse onto the simple cot and fall into a deep sleep.

This was not laziness on Fang Senyan's part; it was necessity. If events transpired as he predicted, resting and recuperating now would be vital, as sleep would likely be impossible later. Every extra ounce of energy stockpiled now translated into a greater chance of victory later.

The ferocity of that night's fighting far exceeded Fang Senyan’s expectations. Apart from him, every other member of the team engaged in the fray!

Once the battering ram Grond had pushed them to the base of the gate, the defenders of Minas Tirith could not stand idly by. They concentrated heavy forces on the walls around that specific gate section, raining down stones and arrows almost fast enough to kill men with spit alone.

In this situation, Ziyi’s psychic attacks, Aldaris's mind storms, and Kurutguo’s immensely powerful siege strikes could all directly engage the enemy. Reef, meanwhile, was tasked with ensuring their safety.

Ronnie, whose strength had significantly increased, charged fearlessly forward. Now a 'Hammerer,' the nearly twenty-meter high first wall of Minas Tirith was no longer an insurmountable obstacle for him. A single sprint followed by embedding his short blade into the stone wall for purchase allowed him to scale it with ease.

The Contractors of the Alliance generally ranked a tier below those serving Sauron, but they held an absolute numerical advantage. Thus, once Ronnie reached the top, he didn't linger to fight; instead, he immediately executed a Great Clone Jutsu, manifesting spectral afterimages!

A clear, piercing, straight beam of light appeared wherever each afterimage passed!! Eleven gleaming shafts pierced outward in different directions, passing through everything as if it were empty space! If viewed from above, the resulting scene was eerily reminiscent of a bizarre, gigantic blooming flower! Where this spectral flower erupted, coupled with the passive suppression ability of the bloody weapon in his hand, the result was devastation—wails of agony, clean cuts, and rivers of blood!

The 'Ace Team' quickly accrued contribution points due to their superior individual prowess. More importantly, because Reef only had to defend against ranged attacks and occasionally deploy the Hand of God in emergencies, he remained relatively the most relaxed. It was precisely because Fang Senyan knew his own abilities were somewhat wasted on such a chaotic front line that he chose to conserve his strength in the camp.

Though the gleaming, beautiful city was blackened and scarred by smoke and fire, though the ground near the gate ran with blood, with corpses piled several meters high—nearly halfway up the wall—though the great fires on the first tier still burned, and though common folk were driven to madness by the terrifying shrieks of the Nazgûl everywhere...

...Minas Tirith did not fall by the time the first light of dawn broke!!!

This siege battle was devastatingly fierce for both sides. While the Ace Team suffered no casualties, this was built upon incredibly potent team buffs and Reef's precise life-saving capability with the Hand of God. The rest of the Contractors on both sides suffered losses exceeding one-third.

Even the famous plot-relevant figures could not escape the grim reaper’s grasp; under Death’s sneer, powerful heroes fell in turn, whether they were on Sauron's side or among the high-tier combatants within Minas Tirith.

Sauron’s forces lost Grond first. This supposedly indestructible battering ram was first assaulted by a coordinated blizzard magic attack from a group of mages, then blanketed by the area-of-effect spell Meteor Shower. The defenders cleverly utilized the principles of thermal expansion and contraction to dismantle the terrifyingly potent legendary siege weapon!

Even more astonishingly, the 'Jays' team had evidently made specific arrangements targeting the Nazgûl. With Gandalf’s assistance, two immensely powerful Nazgûl fell!

Of the twenty-five siege catapults used in the assault, only two remained operational. Most of the others were completely destroyed due to exceeding their operational limits; only a few were actively destroyed by enemy fire, but the result was the same—they were unusable. Crucially, this signified that Sauron's reserves for siege equipment manufacturing were completely depleted; it would take days of effort to restore their previous strength—and time was precisely what Sauron lacked!

The Orc Arsonists, the only remaining force capable of mounting any sustained attack on the walls, were nearly annihilated, making it nearly impossible for them to reform as an organized fighting unit.

All four thrusts had been decisively repulsed—shattered against a stone wall, leaving the attackers bloody and bruised!

Of course, every action has a reaction. If Sauron’s side suffered such heavy losses, could the Alliance have paid a smaller price?

Gandalf was severely wounded. Although conscious, he would be unable to fight for three days. With Denethor II, the Steward of Minas Tirith, having descended into madness, Gandalf was relegated to being the spiritual leader.

The Royal Guard Captain, Beregond, was slain. Perhaps his fame was not widespread, but the average contribution points awarded to those who attacked him upon his death, coupled with the single Sauron Emblem, testified to his importance. His death immediately caused the morale of the garrison to drop by thirty percent.

In addition, one small team hit the jackpot—they sold everything they owned to purchase a giant catapult. A stone thrown from it struck a member of the Fellowship of the Ring—Pippin Took, son of Paladin... The hobbit died instantly, likely leaving little behind. No one knew their exact earnings, but they were generally regarded as having gotten closest to legendary equipment.

Furthermore, driving away the Eagles and the Fellbeasts was an entirely different matter from killing them. Under the extreme disadvantage of fighting in the dark, thirteen of the total twenty-three Great Eagles redeemed had perished, and seven were heavily wounded. The remaining Eagles began refusing any further orders.

This horrific casualty rate was because the humans had forced them to fight in the utterly unfavorable darkness. This meant that against the seven remaining Nazgûl Knights, the city had lost any effective means of deterrence. However, for the Nazgûl, the annihilation of two of their brethren would surely make the once arrogant riders much more cautious, preventing future recklessness.

As the dawn broke, the Orcish assault retreated like a receding tide, leaving behind a field littered with corpses, wisps of pale smoke, and even ravenous crows beginning to peck at the carrion. An eerie, static calm settled over the battlefield, both sides resembling heavily wounded beasts, licking their wounds while growling at each other in mutual hatred.

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