The gates of Storm's End were crowded with refugees, and the wooden wheels of oxcarts creaked and groaned on the stone pavement.
Peasant women held crying children, and old people staggered forward with canes; a shadow of fear hung over everyone's faces.
Yulga, the chieftain of the Wugu tribe, stood beside the arrow slits atop the castle, squinting at the chaos below.
He volunteered to Lemester, saying he could leave the north gate entirely to him, but his real intention was to loot the treasury so he could easily break out to the north.
Lemester still sent a squad of his own soldiers to "supervise the army." Pshaw, just a bunch of shrimps.
"Make way! City defense supplies get through first!"
The soldiers roughly pushed aside the refugees blocking the city gates and directed carts and horses into the city, where the overcrowded refugees cried out in anguish.
Storm's End is fully mobilized. Blacksmiths are working through the night, sparks flying everywhere, apprentices are desperately sharpening the tips of spears, long queues are forming outside the granaries, the clerks are frantically counting the numbers, and squads of knights are going door to door to conscript able-bodied men.
Yurga's nostrils flared slightly as he greedily inhaled the pervasive scent of panic in the air—the very chaos he had been waiting for.
"Chief!" Brock gasped as he climbed the steps. "The guards at the vault have been redeployed; there are probably only a few people left inside!"
Yurga grinned, his fangs glistening with sticky saliva. He looked out of the city, where wisps of smoke and dust danced in the distance, perhaps the vanguard of the Northwest Legion.
Even if they arrive, Yulga is confident he can break out with the gold coins. As the saying goes, "Greater wealth is gained through danger."
"Tell Goruk to get everything ready!" Yurga's rough fingers rubbed the battle axe at his waist. "We'll make our move when the moon is covered by clouds."
As he spoke, he kicked an empty wine bottle at his feet, which smashed against the battlements. No one looked up to see what was happening; all the guards were busy with their own tasks.
Now, the entire castle's attention is drawn to the army outside the city, presenting a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Night falls.
A gentle breeze carrying the smell of smoke swept over the city walls as Yulga, leading his elite warriors, stealthily made their way into the treasury.
They advanced along the base of the wall, the copper studs on their leather armor dulled by plaster.
"Where are the guards?" Brock asked in a low voice, his rough fingers gripping his battle axe tightly.
Yurga didn't answer, but just pricked up his ears.
Apart from the shouts coming from the distant city walls, the area around the treasury was eerily quiet.
He gestured for Goruk to come forward. The shaman took out a few bone fragments from his robe and gently tossed them toward the iron gate. The bone fragments landed with a crisp sound, but no guards came out to check.
"Could it be that they've all been transferred to guard the city?" Brock grinned, revealing a greedy smile.
Yurga felt something was off, but the vault door was too tempting.
He made a gesture, and two soldiers immediately stepped forward and broke open the iron gate.
Next, at the second door and the third door, they didn't encounter a single guard!
The moment the torchlight shone into the vault, everyone froze.
In the empty stone chamber, only a few overturned wooden crates were piled crookedly in the corner.
Yulga strode inside, his boots kicking up a thick layer of dust. He grabbed a wooden crate and smashed it against the wall, the sound of the crate shattering particularly jarring in the confined space.
"This is impossible!" Brock frantically searched every corner. "When I came here that day, I saw coins all over the floor!"
Goruk tapped the ground and walls with his bone staff: "No trace of a secret passage."
He squatted down again and ran his fingers through the cracks in the stone bricks. "I think no one has been here for a week!"
Yurga's expression grew increasingly grim.
He recalled Lemester's downcast eyes and how readily the human nobleman had agreed to the deposit he requested.
Did Lemester transfer the money? Or more likely... as "down payments" to other mercenaries willing to fight for him?
Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps were heard, and an orc who had been keeping watch outside rushed in.
"Someone's coming this way!"
They made quite a commotion when they slammed the door.
"Let's go! Let's meet up with the others at the North Gate, and then we'll leave now!"
There was no time to find other gold coins, so Yulga decided to flee Windbreak Keep now with the 60,000 gold coins he already had, or it would be too late.
He let out a low growl, and the orcs immediately followed him as they rushed out of the vault.
Brock was still not giving up. Before leaving, he kicked over a wooden box, which only shook out a few frightened mice.
As they returned along the same route, many orcs were still angrily wondering where the glittering gold coins had been hidden.
Yulga hurriedly returned to the north gate with his men. When he smelled the familiar scent of his tribesmen, his tense heart relaxed slightly.
The warriors of the Wugu tribe were anxiously waiting for him.
"Chieftain! Everything is ready!" An orc excitedly pointed to the wagon beside the city gate. Six iron oak crates were neatly stacked on the wagon, each corner of which was nailed with the Bradley family crest.
Yul quickened his pace and lifted the lid of one of the boxes.
In the flickering torchlight, the hill of gold coins reflected a dazzling light. He grabbed a handful, listening to the pleasant sound of the metal clashing.
He returned empty-handed tonight and needed to double-check whether what he had acquired was genuine.
"Where are the human soldiers?" he asked in a low voice, while warily scanning the watchtowers on the city wall.
The orc warrior chuckled, "Their alcohol tolerance is terrible. They're all sleeping like logs, lying on the bed with their belts down."
He stretched out his hand, and a crisp metallic clanging sound rang out—it was the city gate key.
Yurga took the keychain. "Open the city gate, load the winch!" he whispered the command.
The four strongest warriors immediately pounced on the city gate machinery, veins bulging on their hairy arms, and the heavy chains began to creak.
Brock had already mounted the lead horse, whip in hand, ready to charge at any moment.
Suddenly, a row of orange-red lights appeared in the dark night sky in the distance.
Like a burst of hellfire erupting on a distant plain! About two seconds later, a deep rumble rolled over the city walls, like distant summer thunder.
The whistling sound of cannonballs cutting through the air grew louder as they approached, eventually exploding into clouds of grayish-white smoke above the city walls.
The lead projectile disintegrated in mid-air, and hundreds of shot pellets rained down in a fan shape!
Countless sparks immediately flew from the bricks and stones of the city wall, accompanied by the crashing sound of falling rubble.
A shell exploded near the North Gate watchtower, tearing the wooden railing to shreds. Wood chips rained down on Yulga and the others.
The pungent smell of gunpowder permeated the air, and the dust mixed with stone powder formed a hazy mist under the moonlight.
Unexploded shells fell into the moat, the splashing water gleaming eerily in the night.