The walls of Yellow City were left behind like a silent whisper. As Mais slipped into the depths of the forest, he left neither a footprint nor the slightest trail of suspicion. No one noticed his departure from the city. Moving through this dark vegetation where trees intertwined and moonlight struggled to reach the ground, the figure was no longer that weak and blind boy. He had grown taller, his shoulders had broadened; the smooth gray mask on his face lent him the majesty of a soulless warrior. With his deepened voice and entirely transformed aura, no one would believe he was that weary child from Yellow City. His entire appearance had changed from head to toe.
Yet, this did not suddenly grant the blind boy sight. While walking through the forest, he would sometimes strike his foot and focus on his stride. At other times, he simply shattered whatever he collided with and kept going.
In the heart of the forest, when the barbarian camp hidden among massive trees appeared, Mais immediately sensed the strange atmosphere within from a distance. The words and manners were entirely different. He could hear it. This place was less a unified military unit and more a shelter for three separate factions forced to tolerate one another. They all stood apart, casting hostile glances. The soldiers had isolated themselves from the others with invisible borders, as if establishing their own small fortresses. There was a hidden enmity and deep estrangement in their eyes; though they shared the same fire, they waited on edge as if a single spark would make them turn on each other. These men in barbarian attire had turned the camp into a cold battlefield with this silent tension.
The guards at the entrance crossed their spears, blocking the way. The coarse leather pelts and wild warrior paint they wore were not enough to mask their disciplined stance. The sharp military order in their movements was diametrically opposed to the barbarian recklessness they tried to imitate; they were dressed like them, but it was evident in every way that they did not feel like them.
"You cannot pass here, stranger," said the guard. His voice carried the mechanical ring of a soldier who had undergone rigorous training.
Mais answered with a deep and indefinable voice echoing from beneath his mask: "I need to speak with Moura. Inform him."
When the name was heard, the soldiers' spears loosened for a moment. Mais passed through those three disconnected and hostile groups within the camp, advancing toward the main tent at the center. He could vaguely feel the cold aura around him and the threatening gazes directed his way.
Finally, he entered the large, leather-covered command tent. Inside, the army's commander, Moura, was waiting for him. Standing at the head of the table with his dark skin, long hair tied tightly back, and a dignified posture, Moura fixed his gaze on Mais once the others in the tent had withdrawn. In the center of the tent stood a massive, round table accompanied by a few chairs. The large map spread across the table showed every border of the Forgotten Kingdom, its secret paths, and the nearby chaotic regions outside the kingdom in all their nakedness. Certain markings on the map silently heralded where the storm would break.
Mais slowly reached for his gray mask and removed it.
When his true face—that youthful countenance—was revealed, a sign of recognition appeared in Moura's eyes. Instead of a hulking man, a small blind boy suddenly evoked a greater sense of danger in him.
But in truth, he had been expecting him. From the beginning, it was Mais who had sent and deployed them here.
"That mask is truly impressive, Mais," said Moura. "It is admirable that you can change your voice and appearance so well. If I saw you like this, it would be difficult to guess your true identity."
"Would it only be difficult? You seem to be giving yourself too much credit. You wouldn't have been able to tell me apart."
"Probably."
Not wanting to break Moura's self-confidence, Mais walked around the table at this point. He reached out his hand, trying to feel the texture of the map. However, he could not feel the entirety of it. To do so, he would have had to lean over, and he did not want to do that in front of Moura. As a young boy, that would affect his stature and charisma.
"Give me information about the towns around Red River City," he said at last. Moura looked at him suspiciously for a while. He knew this youth had not requested 900 soldiers for nothing. From this point on, it was no longer Yellow City or the other Sages paying their wages. It was this young man. Still, they had not left the forest for months, and in this situation, what was the meaning of so much money?
What would Mais do with an army? After a moment of hesitation, he decided to explain to the boy he still had to accept as leader.
"There are many towns near Red River City. So you need to be specific. However, if you wish to speak of the closest ones, I would suggest three towns for commercial reasons."
Red River City was a large city built on the banks of a river in the Red Path Forest. Excluding the South Border City further south, it was the southernmost city of the Forgotten Kingdom. It was established by the long Red River coming from the Lake of Oblivion.
Upon hearing the mention of three towns, Mais became pensive for a moment. Moura did not miss this opportunity.
"Are you planning to attack those towns?"
"I plan to take Red River City," Mais replied. Though a moment of surprise appeared on Moura's face, Mais showed no reaction. His commander needed to know his plans, and he could not hide such an important target from Moura. Moura looked at this short youth. He did not look that impressive, nor that strong. He was blind. He was a child. Despite this, his ambitions were much greater than expected. And he suspected his power was at least equal to that of a Sage. He had thought this from the first moment Mais came to Yellow City and arm-wrestled those miners.
"Why?"
Mais paused for a moment, leaning a bit further over the table and scanning the map with his hand. His fingers stopped over the Capital of the Forgotten Kingdom. At that moment, Moura tried to read Mais's facial expression, but it was in vain. Mais was calm and unresponsive.
"You don't need to know right now. We haven't even started yet."
Moura frowned. Realizing Mais was determined, he sighed and stepped back, sitting in a chair in the tent.
"And how do you plan to do this? No matter how hard the soldiers have struggled to improve their cultivation over the past months, these people are not geniuses and it is hard for them to make great progress. Even with the alchemy pills you gave us. Besides, we don't even have a formation to organize the army. You are talking about a city, not a town. You must know the defenses of cities well."
Mais nodded. He had created a quantity of pills collectively and given them to Moura to distribute to the army. He believed these pills could help, but they were still not enough.
The individual strength of the army was meaningless. Mais alone was stronger than all of them. What he needed were formations. Formations that could unite their power and transform them into a single person.
"I don't want you to fight. Not yet. Divide the army into three and send them to the three towns disguised as merchants. Tell their leaders only to maintain their presence there. They should not draw attention and they should not fight. Just wait. I will give them formations and resources for their cultivation. During this time, let them focus on practicing the formation and increasing their cultivation. I have other plans for them soon."
Mais made a few more explanations. He knew the three separate factions were hostile toward one another because they came from the commands of three different Sages. He could not deal with that for now. Therefore, he separated these three factions strictly. Moreover, there was a more important reason for separating them. At the moment, he actually held a middle-stage Sage formation. If the soldiers' cultivation was sufficient, it could bring a 300-man army up to the middle stages of the Sage Realm, but that was the limit, and Mais needed more soldiers in the army. Likewise, a stronger formation was needed for these soldiers. Mais would see to this.
"And what about me? To which town should I go?" asked Moura. He was the only Core cultivator in the army and naturally the leader. Baro's gift. Mais smiled.
"I have a separate plan for you."