Direct combat is not impossible, it can be done, but as the ancestors wisely said:
The highest form of warfare is to outwit the enemy, next is diplomacy, next is direct combat, and the lowest is to besiege cities.
The best military action is to use strategy to thwart the enemy's strategic intentions or acts of war, followed by defeating the enemy through diplomacy, and then by military force.
The worst strategy is to attack the enemy's cities.
Siege warfare is a last resort, a method used when all Other options have failed.
If one cannot control their emotions and orders soldiers to forcefully assault a city, even if one-third of the soldiers are killed or wounded, and panic spreads, but the city still isn't captured, that is the disaster brought by siege warfare.
Lynn can be ruthless towards the enemy, but for his own people, every loss is a huge loss.
This is different from playing games before Lynn transmigrated.
Every person here is a living being.
They follow him into battle for various reasons or purposes, and he cannot possibly be irresponsible towards them.
Therefore, if the enemy can be subdued without fighting, and enemy cities can surrender without a siege, that is the best method.
To destroy The Eyrie, there is no need for prolonged warfare; victory must be achieved with a strategy of complete triumph.
Thus, neither suffering military setbacks nor sacrificing the benefits of a comprehensive victory.
This is the method of strategic attack.
But this is Westeros, where everyone is brainless and treats human lives like grass.
They don't think about the consequences before starting a war.
They fight whenever they want, as simple as a joke.
And facing the enemy's active attack, Lynn must respond.
So, now, Lynn is focusing on containment.
Whether it's Robb or Mance, he wants them to primarily use decoys for containment, avoiding a desperate fight as much as possible.
He'll handle the rest.
As for Robb's victory, that was an entirely special circumstance.
If Lynn truly disregarded the consequences, with these people plus his dragons, wights, giants, Unsullied... he could even take ten King's Landings directly.
Forget all that, just by resurrecting the dead, he could effortlessly take King's Landing.
But what would be the consequences of doing so?
Any intelligent person could imagine.
The Yuan Dynasty was so powerful.
They would massacre cities they captured, spreading terror, plant their flags, and then leave.
But what happened after they left?
These people feared you, but they would still pull down your flags.
Beyond one's reach, no one can control this place in real-time.
Ruling the world through slaughter is the most foolish method!
Although much experience could be gained, Lynn did not want to become a second Mad King.
Now, Lynn is going to directly 'behead' Robert Arryn, the apparent heir to The Vale.
This way, he can preserve his own forces, compel the enemy to surrender without fighting, and ensure the ultimate goal is achieved—a win-win situation, how good.
"Attacking The Bloody Gate is also a decoy?"
"What the hell?"
Tormund Giantsbane was the first to jump up.
His big red face flushed even redder with excitement and confusion.
"Another decoy?"
He stared with eyes as wide as copper bells, pointing at the formidable pass on the map that symbolized The Vale's gateway.
"We went through all this trouble, crawling out of those damned swamps, wasn't it to do something big?"
"Now you're telling me we're still just a decoy?"
Not only Tormund, but even the usually steady Mance Rayder showed a hint of confusion in his eyes.
For the wildlings in the harsh lands Beyond the Wall, the rules of survival were simple and direct:
Either fight, or die.
Plots and schemes? Feigning an attack to the east while striking west?
These were too distant and too complex for them.
They only trusted the weapons in their hands and the brothers by their side.
"Lynn, my King,"
Tormund leaned in, spittle flying.
"I know you're smart, but that's not how you fight a war!"
"We have giants! We have Mammoths!"
"And... and my future wife!"
He pointed to the silent Frost Giant in the distance, a look of infatuation on his face.
"We'll just charge in, smash that broken gate to smithereens! Trample all the Valemen into pulp! Isn't that it?"
"Right! Smash them!"
"Kill all the southerner!"
The Other wildling chieftains also joined in the clamor.
They waved their fists, their fighting spirit high.
In their eyes, possessing such powerful strength yet choosing to timidly act as a decoy was an insult to a warrior's honor.
"All of you, shut up!"
A crisp reprimand brought all the clamor to a sudden halt.
Ygritte, hand on her bow, coldly scanned the group of simple-minded strong men.
"What do you understand? Listen to Lynn!"
She had an almost blind trust in Lynn.
In her eyes, every decision Lynn made was correct.
Lynn smiled.
He knew that making these wildlings, accustomed to straightforwardness, understand what'strategy' meant was harder than making them wrestle a dragon.
He didn't directly refute them but looked at Tormund and asked a question.
"Tormund, I ask you, do you want your people to live?"
"Nonsense!"
Tormund answered without thinking.
"Otherwise, why would we follow you south? To sightsee?"
"Very well," Lynn nodded.
"If I tell you that directly attacking The Bloody Gate, we will surely win, but at the cost of losing your best brother, would you still fight?"
Tormund's expression instantly froze.
He glanced at the kinsmen who had walked out of the Land of Always Winter with him; the fanaticism on their faces gradually cooled.
Death, they did not fear.
But losing someone they cared about most, they were unwilling.
"But... why would people die?"
Tormund still didn't understand.
"We are clearly stronger than them!"
Lynn's voice grew serious.
"You are under my command, and you follow me in great and dangerous endeavors; I treat every one of you as a brother."
"If you choose not to go out, what about me?"
"I also don't want any of you to die."
"Victory can be achieved without necessarily storming cities and seizing strongholds."
Lynn looked at the bewildered wildlings before him, knowing that explaining these things to them was like playing a lute to a cow.
He changed to a way they could understand.
"Just remember, this is what you need to do next."
"When the enemy advances, we retreat. When the enemy halts, we harass. When the enemy tires, we attack. When the enemy retreats, we pursue."
Lynn enunciated each of these sixteen characters clearly.
The wildlings looked at each Other, their expressions even more confused than before.
"What... what does that mean?"
Tormund scratched his unruly red beard.
"When the enemy comes, we run? Isn't that cowardly?"
"This isn't cowardice, this is wisdom."
Mance Rayder finally spoke.
He looked thoughtfully at Lynn.
"Lord Lynn means, we shouldn't confront them head-on."
"When they come out of the city wanting to fight, we don't fight; we hide in the mountains and forests."
"When they rest, we pretend to attack The Bloody Gate, harass them, and prevent them from getting a good night's sleep."
"Once they are exhausted by our torment, we will charge out and give them a good beating!"
"When they try to run, we'll stick to their heels and chase them down!"
Mance, as expected of the former king-beyond-the-wall, understood the core of Lynn's strategy almost instantly.
"Exactly."
Lynn nodded approvingly.
"Your mission is not to attack the city, but to harass."
"I want you to be like a pack of wolves that can never be caught, lurking around The Bloody Gate."
"During the day, you sleep in the mountains."
"At night, send people to shoot flaming arrows, to shout insults—in short, do whatever you can to annoy them!"
"I want every Valeman soldier in The Bloody Gate to not get a single moment of peaceful sleep!"
"I want them to have no peace day or night, until their spirits break!"
"When they can no longer endure the torment and want to rush out to fight us to the death, we run!"
"Don't even let them catch a glimpse of our shadows!"
"When they retreat dejectedly, we continue to harass!"
"In short, one principle: do not engage them in direct combat!"
"My goal is not for you to kill how many of them, but to tie them down!"
"Ideally, all of The Vale's forces should be firmly tied down at The Bloody Gate!"
After listening to Lynn's explanation, the wildlings, though still only half-understanding, generally grasped the idea.
It was about not fighting, but specifically causing mischief.
This... sounded a bit sneaky?
"This... I'm good at this!"
Tormund slapped his thigh, suddenly excited.
"We used to play like this with the Nights Watch Beyond the Wall!"
"Stealing their clothes and peeing on them, making ghost noises in the middle of the night to scare them!"
"Hahahaha! I like this!"
Lynn looked at his devious expression, completely speechless.
It seemed this guy's shamelessness was ingrained in his bones.
"Mance,"
Lynn turned to the former king-beyond-the-wall.
"You will command this unit."
"Tormund and Ygritte will be your deputies."
"I have only one demand: at all costs, tie down The Vale's main forces at The Bloody Gate, and at the same time, minimize our own casualties."
"Understood!" Mance nodded solemnly.
He knew this was Lynn's trust in him and the greatest test of his abilities.
After all, he too had come from the Nights Watch, and was much better at warfare than Tormund and the Other pure wildlings.
"As for me..."
Lynn's gaze shifted to the undulating Mountains of the Moon, like the spine of a giant dragon.
"In a few days, The Vale will open its bloody gates wide, welcoming you in."
...The night was inky black.
Lynn, with Arya, Jon, and Benjen, arrived at Winter's resting place.
The ten Others, cloaked in black, were already waiting there.
"Prepare to depart."
Lynn gave the command to the ten Others.
Winter's massive main head slowly lowered, its giant maw, large enough to swallow an entire ox, slowly opening before them.
There was no imagined stench, only a smell of sulfur mixed with scorching heat.
Then, under Jon and Benjen's gazes, which were almost popping out of their sockets,
One Other, with steady steps, just... walked directly into Winter's mouth?
He found a relatively'spacious' corner, leaned against the dragon's tooth root, and stood quietly, as if he had merely entered an ordinary room.
Immediately after, came the second, the third... Winter's three heads each 'contained' three Others in their mouths.
They stood silently within Winter's mouth, unmoving.
"You... you made them... go into the dragon's mouth?"
Jon was dumbfounded.
"Winter's mouth is much safer than you imagine."
Having said that, Lynn sat on Winter's broad back.
The tenth Other silently sat behind Lynn.
"Arya, you and Jon will move with Mance."
Lynn looked down at Arya, whose face was full of worry.
"Remember, stay behind, and don't be impulsive."
"I... I understand."
Arya bit her lip and nodded vigorously.
Lynn said no more.
He had left protective magic for Arya a few nights ago; as long as she wasn't hit by a falling meteor, self-preservation shouldn't be a big problem.
Lynn gently patted Winter's neck.
The massive dragon wings suddenly spread, stirring up a violent gust of air!
Winter's colossal body soared into the sky, transforming into a black speck under the shocked gazes of Arya, Jon, and the Others, instantly disappearing into the deep night sky.
The wind howled in their ears.
Lynn looked down at the land shrouded in darkness below.
Mountains, rivers, castles... everything rushed backward at high speed.
The impregnable defenses of The Bloody Gate were nothing more than an insignificant dirt wall beneath their feet.
The natural barriers of the Mountains of the Moon, which would deter any army, were merely small ravines before them.
This was the power of the dragon.
An absolute air superiority, transcending all rules.
They flew for an unknown duration.
As they crossed the highest peak of the Mountains of the Moon, a castle suspended above a sea of clouds appeared in their sight.
The Eyrie.
It stood alone and proud at the top of the world, like the dwelling of gods in mythology.
Below it lay a chasm thousands of feet deep.
Any enemy attempting to attack it from the ground would only meet a shattered end.
Lynn gently patted Winter.
The dragon understood, and its three heads let out a low roar simultaneously.
The next second, it folded its wings and, like a meteor, silently dove towards that sky city!
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