On the morning of November 15th, during the Aegean Calendar year 141, the first heavy snowfall blanketed the Donau Wasteland, causing temperatures to plumt.
After enduring hunger for three days and nights, the Demon Clan’s army was hit by the cold wave, and tens of thousands froze to death overnight, not to ntion the countless who suffered frostbite; despite being accustod to the harsh environnt of the Demon World, the Demon Clan warriors should not have been so frail, but without food to provide sufficient heat, no matter how resilient the body, solid the tent, strong the bonfire, or thick the winter clothing, the non-combat casualties could not be prevented.
Reaching this point, even the most oblivious Demon Clansman realized they were dood.
The vast and barren Primitive Ancient Origin could accommodate the Heigar-defeated Beamon but could absolutely never accommodate the Demon Clan. When they are left with their last breath from hunger, the Beamon warriors will unhesitatingly co to behead them, strip their tattooed skin, and throw their countless corpses like firewood into the lava rivers and fiery volcanoes of the Underground World to burn to a wisp of smoke—the fate of the Sea Clan’s army had already set the best example for the Demon Clan warriors.
In the face of hopelessness, the six hundred thousand Demon Clan soldiers besieging Yif Castle in Dorott launched a desperate assault. So Demon Clan warriors on the Donau Wasteland chose to turn back towards the Sanggan River, preparing to cast themselves along with their armor and weapons into the roaring waters, rejecting aiding the enemy in the most extre way possible; others, led by officers, staggered towards the pine forest at the foot of the snowy mountains—whether they could reach the forest alive, and how to find shelter and make a living after arriving, were not concerns for now. Anyone in such a deadlock needs to find a faint hope of survival to support their spirit and body.
More Demon Clan warriors decided to keep moving forward, continuing to carry out the impossible combat mission.
The Death Knights offered their final prayers, spurring on their exhausted nightmares, leaving trails of fiery hoofprints across the snow-laden wasteland, heading first to Sabak and Witherspoon—the silver-eyed knights marched with tragic grandeur, their starving eyes, glowing green, driven them to the edge.
Nightmare steeds are life companions to Death Knights, and the blood-filled silver eyes would rather end their military careers with an honorable death in battle than allow their cherished steeds to beco dung in gut worms.
In tis of crisis, all fly alone; the air force composed of Gargoyles and Dread Knights also headed towards the unknown destiny of life and death.
The air corps is the most mobile unit in the Demon Clan army. This batch of Demonic air force dispatched to the Aegean were mostly elite units with glorious history and special designations. Their predecessors had fiercely battled the brave and war-proficient Goliath Harpies in the skies over Tennessee, defeated the Elven air cavalry in Azeroth, defeated the Goblin zeppelins in the Fanggan Forest, and eradicated the Draenei Sky Cavaliers at Bright Summit; they left indelible silhouettes over the skies of both the Aegean and the Demon World, with ballads written by Bards commorating their legendary exploits and spreading them far and wide.
History is always filled with a touch of dark humor; the Demon Clan air force, bearing a thousand years of glory, had today turned into a group of terrified cowards, devoid of sharpness, preferring to drearily drag their weary and burdened bodies to fly towards Tarlarya, risking their lives to cross the towering snow mountains reaching the skies, to a world without the Sky Banning Song, without Osteo Artillery, and devoid of ravaging air forces of humans, rather than muster the courage to launch an honorable suicide attack against the Bimon Kingdom.
During the noon on the 15th, the sight of thirty thousand Wolf Cavalry filled the snow-laden sky, the cold and keen blade light reflecting off the wasteland with bone-chilling coldness; amidst the snowy pine forest, a hundred thousand Demonic engineers busy chiseling tree holes to extract "torch oil" had no choice but to obediently raise white flags in surrender under the incomparable military threat posed by the Bimon Kingdom. However, what puzzled the Wolves was that these Demon Clan engineers were clearly descendants of Beamon involuntarily taken to the Demon World, yet none were willing to admit being progeny of the God of War, no matter how much the Werewolf priests attempted to convert them.
"What should we do?" General Wolf sought instructions from above: "This is the first ti in my life I’ve seen such shaless compatriots, should we kill a Chekin to warn the Monk? Execute a batch of diehard elents to set an example?"
"I’ve always said they are Demons, not Beamon. Do you believe it now?" The Shaman of Divine Songs casually signed the massacre order: "Since they claim to be descendants of Nai’aozu, why keep them? Slay them all to build the Crystal City!"
Had it not been for Flower Pri Hair Holding, leading the Peacocking Beauties in weeping prayers, crying tears of blood, the ten thousand enemy soldiers would surely have ended up with their heads rolling like balls.
The only aftermath of this event was the growing mainstream call within the Beamon leadership to ban the harem from interfering in politics, following the reduction of military power—with politically astute veterans sensing that the Shaman of Divine Songs’s firm stance finally earned him Beamon’s implicit acknowledgnt of his authority and status.
Beamon’s acquisition once again startled the Aegean Continent.
The barren Donau severely lacks mineral deposits. Although Bonaparte Continent has rich coal reserves, due to the extrely limited manpower in overseas enclaves, Beamon’s pace in manufacturing "carbon essence" lags far behind that of humans with their vast population base.
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