The battle in the forest ended instantly, while the fight outside continued.

　　Far away, Puning commanded over a dozen Graywing Eagles, attacking human warriors indiscriminately. Wherever armor didn’t cover, the warriors were vulnerable.

　　Nearby, Periya waited for an opening. With a well-timed paralyzing feather, she could knock a warrior down.

　　But two orcs were no match for eleven warriors, especially when the enemies wielded magic weapons.

　　After all, Serayi Rulgor was a general.

　　He had professional training and practical experience.

　　Steel swords with flame magic were particularly deadly to Graywing Eagles; a single touch could immobilize their wings.

　　Periya attempted several attacks, but the general seemed to anticipate her moves. Every time she struck, the flaming sword swung toward her, and several arrows hit her.

　　Soon, Puning’s situation worsened as he was struck by two arrows. Clearly, they had underestimated their opponents.

　　“It’s time to act,” Charles decided.

　　He grabbed both ends of his steel wire magic blade and dashed toward the rear of the human formation at a hunter’s speed. The blade sliced through a warrior and his armor. The thrill of battle made him feel alive again.

　　“Ambush!” someone shouted.

　　Seray turned, and under the bright moonlight, a lizard warrior with burning hatred in his eyes killed a soldier.

　　Periya let out an excited roar. “Well done!”

　　Seray realized: they were dealing with the Poison Feather Society again.

　　“General, you have no chance!”

　　Charles swung his steel sword with his right hand while throwing a magic dagger with his left.

　　Seray assumed a frontal attack and countered with his flaming sword. The blades clashed several times before a sharp strike pierced his neck.

　　It was too late. The lizardman wielded magic, and the sword was already at his throat.

　　With the general killed, the orc blood in Charles boiled. He let out a roar.

　　The following scene was predictable:

　　An eagleman harassed from above.

　　A lizardman and another eagleman eliminated the remaining soldiers.

　　Even Sanen, responsible for scouting, joined in.

　　In less than twenty minutes, all eleven human warriors lay defeated.

　　Periya casually picked up a severed arm to restore her energy.

　　Puning raised a flame magic sword, flaunting his spoils.

　　Charles looked south toward Novi and sighed.

　　“Farewell, sweetheart…”

　　Sanen glanced south. “What are you talking about?”

　　“Layette is a good place, but we can never return,” Charles murmured.

　　Periya pulled an arrow from her body and jumped onto his back.

　　“Let’s go, lizard. I’ll take you to the Poison Feather Society.”

　　“Shouldn’t we clean our wounds first?”

　　“Sure… hahaha…”

　　After the great battle, they dared not rest. That night, Puning personally escorted Charles to the Poison Feather Society, while the other two went ahead to inform them.

　　The experienced duo bypassed camps and outposts, heading straight to the mountain stronghold west of Pekot City.

　　Charles had imagined the Society as a group of birds—or rather, various winged people. Puning’s description opened his eyes.

　　There were three teams like theirs. The highest leader had black-and-white wings and a human-like appearance. She, along with Puning and Cidese, founded the earliest Poison Feather Society. Her team also included two gray-feathered harpies.

　　Cidese, a crow-like humanoid, was one of the few master-level druids. His team had only one fire lizard, named Ciel.

　　Charles listened to the introductions, curiosity growing.

　　“I have a question. Have you heard of a lizardman named Senpo?”

　　Puning thought carefully. “Sorry, buddy. I don’t recall.”

　　“Do you know a writer in Capekot City? He wrote The Untold History of War.”

　　Puning looked confused. “Zhuo Wen?”

　　Charles nodded. Hearing the correct name pleased him.

　　“Zhuo Wen Nepulangming, the clown writer of Capekot City. His works are full of wild imagination. Leaders like Deaniyo and the lord of Risk City are often misrepresented in his books. If you’ve read his other works, you’ll understand.”

　　Charles mentally rejected the “clown” label—Zhuo Wen had conducted field research in Lai Rete Forest among orcs for his writing. Perhaps some details were accurate.

　　“Do you think so?” Puning reflected briefly. The difference in thinking might be racial. Lizardmen probably thought differently from harpies. “Maybe we should interact more with Ciel,” he considered.

　　“Who is Senpo?” Charles asked.

　　“Like Rakku—a traitor among orcs.”

　　“So you killed him…”

　　“I detest traitors, especially those who collaborate with humans. Is there a problem with that?”

　　“You’re crazier than I imagined. If I’m not mistaken, you fought in a great war before.”

　　“The Capekot battlefield.”

　　Puning remembered the idle forts and outposts outside the city and felt a pang of sadness. He slowed, bowing deeply.

　　“Allow me to show my respect, warrior.”

　　Twenty days later, they reached a hillside stronghold named Forked Tongue. Charles responded with a tongue gesture in return.

　　At the stone gate, a woman with dark silver hair combed her hair. She wore a human gown, but unlike humans, she had two pairs of wings—one large, one small. Her left wings were pure white, her right wings as dark as a swamp.

　　Charles blinked, realizing he had misunderstood something.

　　“Do I deserve such a grand welcome?”

　　Puning patted his shoulder. “Don’t misunderstand. Forked Tongue refers to Ciel. The leader standing outside is a coincidence—not here to welcome you.”

　　“She’s the new member?” The Deaniyo leader looked at Charles. “Take him in and get him acquainted. Don’t let him dig holes like Ciel, though.”

　　“Understood, leader.”

　　As they entered the stronghold, hurried footsteps echoed.

　　A red lizard leapt onto Charles’ head, breathing fire. A black crow flew low, landing on his shoulder, pecking at his scales.

　　“Nice skin,” whispered the black crow.

　　Charles removed the fire lizard like a hat. Holding it aloft, it sprayed sparks before landing on the wall.

　　The crow let out two “wow” sounds and transformed into a harpy.

　　“A likable guy at first sight. Sidesei, one of the founders of the Poison Feather Society.”

　　“I know you. What about Periya and the others?”

　　“I’ll take you inside,” she said.

　　In the central hall, a male and female gray-feathered harpy chatted quietly, while Sanen trained his mole.

　　Periya saw Charles and flew low, landing on his back.

　　“Comrades! The new member has arrived! Let’s cheer!”