The Orcs halted. One tall, officer-like Orc mounted a large boulder and roared into the surroundings. The sound swept across the entire battlefield. As its roar subsided, a second Orc followed suit, then a third, a fourth—until the clamor of the Orcs engulfed the field. Remarkably, the vibrating battle-spears or other weapons in their hands were lifted from the ground, shaking rhythmically, causing the very earth beneath them to tremble.

At that moment, an aged archer’s hand involuntarily twitched. His bow was already drawn with an arrow nocked. The slight tremor sent the shaft flying, striking down one of the spear-wielding Orcs mid-vibration. A momentary hush fell over the fighting. Yet, far from recoiling in fear, the Orcs erupted in an even more frenzied bellow. Having tasted blood, they became maniacal, surging forward with deafening roars toward the edge of the ramparts.

“Ready! Fire!”

Aragorn stood beside the Elven archers. As the Orcs closed the distance, he swiftly drew his longsword, pointing it sharply toward the distant horde and shouting a command.

These Elven longbowmen lived up to the "Nighthawk" epithet Aragorn had mentioned. At his shout, at least fifty of the Elven archers gripped several arrows in both hands, while others held shafts glowing faintly green. A sudden volley scattered forth. Those wielding multiple arrows felled several Orcs each in a single, continuous barrage, causing massive casualties among the charging vanguard.

However, the Orcs were clad in more than mere paper; many arrows glanced harmlessly off their steel armor. The wounded Orcs roared on as if untouched, their momentum swelling mightily.

Zhang Heng, standing near Zheng Zha, instantly recognized the technique. “Scatter shot? Magnificent! I truly wish to see what hidden archery skills they have yet to unveil. If anyone here can perform the Nine Arrows Slaying the Sun, that would truly be…”

Zheng Zha casually retorted, “You just wait right there. If you aren’t afraid of death, you’d best keep your head outside the wall. I saw quite a few Orcs carrying bows, by the way. And crossbows too.”

Zhang Heng fell silent, though his eyes kept darting toward the Elves. It wasn't until Zheng Zha roared and summoned the Tiger Soul Blade that Zhang Heng finally nocked his own arrows and began firing relentlessly down at the mass below.

The Orcs had reached the base of the wall. Aragorn immediately bellowed, “Free firing! Everyone begin free firing!”

Suddenly, every defender on the rampart—Elf and elder alike—commenced firing without formation. Counting the gathered populace and the Elves, there were over a thousand archers lining the wall. In an instant, it was a rain of arrows. Below the fortifications, amidst the groans and howls of the Orcs, the incessant clanging of metal hitting metal echoed. Apart from the specialized Elven archers and elite troops, the power of arrows loosed by the conscripted citizens was too slight to penetrate the Orcs’ metal armor; thus, while the arrow shower appeared dense, only about half of those shafts carried any real impact.

Just as the Orcs reached the wall's base, some began hoisting ladders. Amidst the shouts from above, several ladders were successfully braced against the stone. The few Orcs climbing these ladders managed to leap onto the battlements, catching the unprepared humans and Elves off guard, leading to several immediate deaths under Orcish weaponry.

(Siege warfare in this era is so monotonous—monotonous weapons, monotonous tactics, even monotonous armies. Looking at the records of Song Dynasty sieges I’ve read, I see none of the boiling water, rolling logs, Divine Arm Crossbows, massive ballistae, or trebuchets. When you push hard, I defend hard—it’s profoundly frustrating.)

Zheng Zha, realizing this, pulled the reins of his Skeleton Warhorse and leaped down onto the wall. He swung the Tiger Soul Blade, extending its destructive glow to its maximum reach, cleaving every ladder within thirty meters into two sections. Most Orcs clinging to them fell screaming, almost certainly dead. Yet, because the mass of Orcs below was so immense, for every few ladders Zheng Zha severed, more kept surging upward. This war, clearly, could not be won by the strength of one man alone.

Clang!

A sharp, loud report sounded. The protective aura surrounding Zheng Zha—his blade-light shield—shattered instantly. Startled, Zheng Zha spurred his Skeleton Warhorse backward, leaping away from the edge. He had been holding that blade-light shield, rendering him immune to countless incoming arrows, until several explosive shafts arrived. Due to the long distance, their impact was just enough to pulverize the aura. Thankfully, he retreated just in time; any slower, and he would have been riddled like a beehive.

“Damn it, this isn't over!”

Zheng Zha was truly enraged. He reformed the blade-light shield around his entire body, then quickly replenished his internal energy from his Charged Mithril Ring. Once prepared, he did the unthinkable: he reined his horse and leaped off the outer wall. Several key narrative figures cried out, their faces flushed with alarm; they had developed genuine camaraderie with him. The Central Continent team members also shouted, save for Chu Xuan, who calmly drew his Gauss Pistol.

With a muffled thud, Zheng Zha landed heavily. The ten-meter drop caused neither him nor the horse the slightest injury, for every Orc beneath his landing spot had been pulverized into a smear of gore, utterly crushed into paste. Zheng Zha didn’t pause upon impact. He flicked the Tiger Soul Blade with a sweep, exploiting the surprise of his descent. Most Orcs were momentarily stunned, having not yet raised their dou qi. With one swing of the nearly twenty-meter-long blade-glow, every Orc within a twenty-meter radius semicircle was cleaved in twain. In that single maneuver, several hundred, perhaps a thousand, Orcs were slain. Zheng Zha pushed on, charging his horse directly into the mass, the Tiger Soul Blade slashing horizontally, turning that section of the battlefield into a chaotic spray of blood and viscera.

Jin Pi shouted in exhilaration, “You are ferocious, the luckiest, and the most idiotic warrior! I must kill you, you reckless bastard!”

Aragorn and the others had witnessed Zheng Zha’s prowess and knew the gravity-defying nature of the Skeleton Warhorse. They assumed he would eventually run along the wall once he could no longer hold the line. They had no time for further thought. Aragorn immediately shouted, “Archers fall back! Front rank, prepare melee weapons! When the Orcs reach the wall, engage them close!”

Even though Zheng Zha’s valor had boosted troop morale, the sheer length of the wall meant he could not defend it alone. Elsewhere, the Orcs were gaining footholds, with fresh numbers continually climbing up. While the Orc archer contingent was small, their melee skills were top-tier, generally requiring two humans or one Elf to hold off one Orc. Gradually, the number of Orcs on the ramparts increased. Only the section where Zheng Zha fought remained momentarily clear below him; everywhere else, the fighting devolved into a brutal scrum.

At this point, the quality of the soldiery became starkly evident. Elite soldiers possessing dou qi showed no fear and could hold off multiple enemies. The conscripted civilians, however, were being slaughtered. While they offered some distant support fire, in close combat, they were helpless, forced to retreat continuously.

Fortunately, the castle's design proved sound. Even with Orcs on the outer wall, archers on the inner rampart behind them continued to fire. Combined with the elite dou qi soldiers blocking the main Orc advance, this layered defense finally managed to halt their immediate assault. The situation shifted again when the four members of the Central Continent team joined the fray.

Zhang Heng’s contribution was minimal. While his archery was powerful, in a mass brawl, his effect was no greater than that of a single elite longbowman. In contrast, Cheng Xiao, with his inherited martial arts, and Zhao Yingkong, with her assassin skills, were significantly stronger than average dou qi soldiers. They immediately held off at least a dozen Orcs each. However, the most devastating force among the newcomers was undeniably Lin Xuan.

Wielding two Gauss Pistols, he stood surrounded by a ring of Orcs, constantly sweeping his hands in arcs around himself. Each sweep of the pistols fired a trajectory that instantly pierced or brought down one or more Orcs. He even managed to shatter incoming arrows with the discharge from the pistols; the weapon’s power was sufficient to block explosive bolts. He wasn't aiming visually, but relying purely on instinct, dancing through the calculated trajectories of his Gun-Fighting Art—paths representing every possible line of attack against him.

By the time Chu Xuan tossed aside both empty magazines, over a hundred Orcs near him had crashed to the ground. The spent magazines were still emitting white, scalding smoke. He stood cold and detached, his movements possessing an undeniable, unrivaled coolness.

Though fighting deep within the Orc swarm, Zheng Zha kept an eye on the activity atop the wall. Seeing Chu Xuan's overwhelming gun fighting, he inwardly gave a sharp approval. But at that moment, he spotted an Orc charging toward the wall, wielding a torch sputtering with fire, aimed precisely at the section of the rampart directly below where Chu Xuan stood.