"Wake up, wake up!" The sleeping warehouse guard lifted his head, and outside the wooden wall came a clear shout, "Fire! Hurry to put it out!"

The violent explosion and the smell of smoke made the warehouse guard suddenly alert, and he raised his head to glance through the window.

Through the narrow gap, thick smoke rolled in, and the acrid smokiness in the air indicated a sudden fire.

The guard immediately jumped up from the chair. He knew all too well that his companions had gone to the outdoor bathhouse to "bathe," and he didn't have enough manpower to fight the fire!

If the fire burned the military provisions, it would be over! Not even several heads would be enough to save him!

"Coming, coming, hurry with the fire!"

Hastily picking up a bucket, helmet askew atop his head, the guard clanged out the gate: "Get more people, call more people... hmm?"

"Hmm?" He stared blankly at the dark barrack tents before him, with only a few places on the ground aflame, and the blaze hadn't reached where he was.

In his confusion, he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye and saw Mormon charging with a fierce look.

"Hey—"

He immediately threw the wooden bucket to block, but Mormon punched it away and, as the guard turned to flee, hurled a dagger sharply.

The dagger whizzed into the guard's back, sinking over an inch deep.

In pain, he jerked forward, reaching to touch the dagger in his back, but Mormon had already pounced, gripping the dagger and viciously driving it in further.

"Ah—get away, you devil!" the guard cried out, struggling fiercely, blood spurting onto Mormon's face.

The more he struggled, the more he lost blood.

As blood stained his chest and the guard's vest, the warehouse guard was completely motionless.

A few wizard companions, after confirming nearby guards were dead, swiftly stormed into the warehouse.

Breathing heavily, Mormon stood by the door: "Search carefully, don't overlook any corner."

Moments later, a Black Snake Bay wizard walked out, carrying an open crate.

The crate was partitioned with wooden planks, lined with fruit stems and wood shavings for cushioning. Twenty-four bottles of potion gleamed with a luminous green light.

"There truly are mana awakening potions," Mormon muttered, touching his head as he stared at the potions.

When the Knights prepared mana slumbering potions for them, awakening potions were not part of the plan.

Mormon recalled the black-clothed man who approached him three days ago, yet couldn't comprehend how they managed to stash a crate of potions in the warehouse?

But now was not the time to ponder this.

"Those who can wield spells, drink now, according to plan. We should head to the camp gate."

As he spoke, Mormon grabbed a bottle from the crate, forcefully twisted the cap open, and poured the green potion into his mouth.

The liquid was icy, stabbing his throat as it traveled down his esophagus into his stomach. After about a minute, the muscles in his cheeks began to tremble, as if enduring some pain.

When Mormon opened his eyes again, the world appeared a bit clearer.

The drinking was painful, yet afterward, he felt a harvest-like joy.

"How is it, has your mana recovered?" Mormon asked the wizards beside him.

They looked at each other and saw harvest-like joy in each other's eyes: "Recovered."

Mormon lifted his head, gazing into the distance, and from the direction of the camp gate came sounds of earth-shaking battle cries.

"Let's go, head over."

"What about the warehouse?"

Remembering the words of the black-clothed man, Mormon hesitated for a moment but then followed the instructions, leaving two people: "Set it on fire, burn all the military provisions, the rest come with me to the camp gate."

As the fire spread and absent officers failed to intervene, the entire camp was thrown into chaos.

First affected was the soldiers' tent camp; tents collapsed, flames roared, soldiers scattered fleeing or fighting the blaze.

"What are you doing? No running around!" Noticing Mormon, a guard shouted, pointing at him, stepping in his way.

Mormon said nothing, drawing his longsword and cleaving the guard down.

The nearer the camp gate, the more soldiers there were, everywhere wizards, slaves, and prisoners of war battled soldiers.

Contrary to most people's perception of wizards, these Black Snake Bay wizards wielded longswords with both hands, sword blades clashing, emitting crisp metallic clangs.

Mormon didn't stop his stride; he dashed into the fray, kicking a guard in the chest, knocking him back two steps. Before he steadied himself, he saw a wizard extend both hands towards him.

The bodies of seven or eight guards blocking the way suddenly stiffened, and a thin layer of frost appeared on their surfaces.

A burly wizard swung his large axe, sending three heads flying, but the blood, due to the cold, merely bubbled without spraying.

"I told you not to use frost magic in the summer!" Mormon scolded the person, "Save your magic power, we'll need it to open the camp gate later."

Wielding a sword seized from a monk, Mormon and his group collected solitary wizards along the way, remarkably making it to the camp gate.

At this moment in front of the camp gate, over a hundred wizards were engaged in a fierce battle with the guards, with more guards continuously reinforcing.

A ragged wizard swung his sword fiercely, cracking a soldier's shield, but before he could attack, another guard's spear pierced through the wizard's abdomen.

Blood and sweat mingled amidst the firelight and sword flashes, everywhere were wizards and guards locked in either group or one-on-one fights.

As the soldiers received reinforcements, they gradually gained the upper hand against the wizards.

They need to win quickly, Mormon knitted his brows.

"Talolin! Balimba! Kulu!" Mormon immediately ordered, "Fireball Technique!"

The three wizards instantly dispersed, one standing beside Mormon, while the other two spread out to the left and right, a great distance apart.

This was to prevent interference during spellcasting.

Their bodies trembled, eyes rolling back, mumbling incomprehensibly, their hands moved back and forth continuously facing each other.

As if lighting an invisible match in their palms, flames leapt between their fingers.

Strands of flame intertwined like weaving, in three minutes, forming three brilliant fireballs.

"Die, you impostor knight!"

The three fireballs were flung instantly, drawing a scorching arc, two smashing onto the camp gate, the exploding flames immediately engulfing the gate, the searing waves of heat changing the expressions of nearby guards.

Another one only landed on a nearby tent, exploding into flames, which in the crackling sound, ignited three other tents around it.

"You three dolts threw it crooked!" A wizard battling fiercely at the front yelled in anger, while smearing a glob of spit onto a guard's eyes in front of him.

White smoke emerged around the eyes, and the guard clutched his face, screaming in agony.

"Stop barking like a dog, I'll continue after a rest." Although it was just one fireball, the three wizards seemed utterly drained of strength, barely able to stand.

Not only the wizards, but the guards too couldn't stand steadily.

They stared dazedly at the blazing flames, again looking at those ragged wizards, reminded once more of the battlefield terror wielded by magic.

"Witchcraft! Magic!"

"Demons, the demons have manifested."

Seeing the enemy's ranks thrown into chaos, Mormon, who had prepped for a long spell, made his move: "Disperse!"

The moment he spoke, the wizards in the front row immediately spread out to the side and behind.

He raised his hands high; the fireball between his hands was even larger, the flames even more intense than the previous three.

He forcefully pushed his hands forward, the fireball flew towards the soldiers guarding the camp gate with searing flames.

Drawing a brilliant arc in the air, the fireball hit its target precisely.

The explosion of flames instantly ignited about ten people nearby.

Their clothing consumed by the fire, the guards screamed as they fled, rolling on the ground, slapping at the flames on their bodies.

"Help me, help me!"

"It's the devil's power, the devil's stride!"

"The camp gate's down, look over there!"

Adding to their misfortune, the camp gate emitted a creaking sound amidst the flames, transformed into charred timber, collapsing to the ground.

Seeing the camp gate fall, the wizards cheered, while the guards lost all their fighting spirit, scattering in all directions.

The wizards at the front immediately rushed forward, freedom was within reach!

The wizards strode ahead, rushing towards long-lost freedom, but soon their pace slowed, eventually coming to a stop.

The wizards stood still, suspiciously looking ahead.

Mormon's breathing quickened, the sword in his hand trembling slightly.

Amid the dust stirred by the collapsing gate, he saw a familiar shadow.

"What's wrong?"

Mormon ignored him, staring straight ahead: "Nidesar? When did he return?"

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