As evening settled over the camp, Aaron decided to postpone the salting process.

Instead, he instructed the people to smoke the meat, a simpler method for the time being.

The night was calm and lively.

Lanterns flickered, casting warm glows across the camp.

Children ran around, laughter echoing through the air,

while adults chatted in small groups, most wearing smiles of relief and contentment.

Aaron, however, remained focused. He stood near the grilled meat, eyes shifting between the fire and his map.

On the map's edge, he spotted several red dots. A closer look revealed they were level 4 and above.

He straightened and spoke with quiet urgency, "Rumba, assemble the guards. Torvald, it's time to test the Ballista's power."

Torvald blinked in surprise. Rumba asked, "Lord Aaron… are there enemies?"

Aaron gave him a blank, unreadable look. "The old enemies. Likely the Gray Wolf."

Rumba's eyes widened. He had nearly forgotten about that threat.

He bowed quickly, pulled out a sharp whistle, and blew it three times.

The piercing sound cut through the night.

In the camp, everyone knew what it meant:

For ordinary people, it was a signal to stay inside and remain alert. For soldiers, it was a call to arms gather at the gate immediately and prepare for battle.

A few minutes later, torches made from firewood were lit, casting flickering light across the camp. The flames illuminated the surroundings from all sides, offering a fragile sense of security. Many who had once scoffed at gathering dry wood for torches now understood their true value.

Aaron stood silently, eyes fixed on the map. He counted the red dots, they were moving fast, closing in.

Seventy-four Gray Wolves, all level 4 and above. Among them, three stood out: one at level 12, another at level 13, and the last at level 17.

Yet Aaron's expression didn't change. Instead, his gaze shifted to something else, the hidden presence the old chief had once warned him about.

He zoomed in.

There it was, marked only with question marks. His eyes narrowed. Something stronger than him was lurking in the dark.

He immediately formed a plan: eliminate the Tier 2 wolves quickly, then find a way to deter the hidden threat.

Meanwhile, Torvald emerged from the gate, issuing orders. Sixteen Ballistae were lined up, each loaded and ready. Over a hundred arrows had been prepared. Ordinary villagers had been trained to operate them, while Khumba's team stood ready to defend them.

Aaron readied his bow and arrows, then turned to Rumba.

"Rumba, give the order to fire only when the wolves pass the torches."

Rumba nodded solemnly.

Khumba, watching the preparations, couldn't help but wonder, "Will this be enough to stop the Gray Wolves?"

Suddenly, Aaron darted forward, vanishing into the night.

He stopped at the last torch, drew his bow, and fired an arrow into the darkness.

It was a shot made purely on instinct. Even with his Great Knight strength, he couldn't see clearly in the dark. But the map had shown him the location, and he trusted it.

The people behind him were stunned. Torvald even covered his face, embarrassed by what he assumed was a reckless miss.

Aaron returned calmly, unfazed. The arrow had missed its mark, but not by much.

What no one realized was that the arrow had been aimed at the unknown monster. It had been lying in wait, hidden in the shadows, commanding the pack from the rear.

But the moment the arrow flew, it sensed danger, its fur bristled. It leapt away just in time.

For a brief moment, a flash of fear, almost human, flickered in its eyes. Then came rage.

It let out a howl, deep and commanding.

In response, the three Tier 2 Gray Wolves howled back,

and the attack began.

As the wolves crossed the torch line, Rumba shouted, "Fire the arrows!"

In an instant, all sixteen Ballistae launched their bolts. The air filled with the sharp whistle of arrows, followed by the agonized shrieks of wolves.

The force behind each shot was immense, so powerful that a single arrow not only pierced one Gray Wolf, but continued on to kill another behind it.

It was night, and visibility was poor. The people couldn't see much, but the wolves knew. They felt the loss. Some howled in sorrow, others in fear.

A few wolves managed to get close, but were swiftly taken down by Aaron, his movements precise and lethal.

The volley had bought them precious time, enough to reload the Ballistae.

Torvald, watching the battle unfold, quickly realized a flaw. Firing one arrow at a time wasn't efficient in the heat of combat. He made a mental note: the Ballistae needed to be modified, to fire multiple arrows in succession.

If successful, it could be a game changer in future battles.

As the Tier 2 wolves watched their subordinates hesitate and cower in fear, the Level 17 Gray Wolf prepared to unleash its racial talent. But before it could act, a howl echoed from deep within the forest. At that signal, it too let out an unwilling howl, and the entire pack of Gray Wolves turned and rushed back toward the Savannah Mountain Range.

The battle had been short, but undeniably thrilling.

For the first time in their history, the people had successfully repelled a monster attack, and with surprising ease.

Torvald stepped forward, brushing ash from his sleeves.

"Aaron, I need your help with something."

Aaron met his gaze and saw the spark of curiosity in his eyes. He knew that look, Torvald had likely discovered something again.

He nodded, "I'll help you. But tomorrow."

Then he turned to Rumba, "You did well tonight. Now… anyone interested in eating Gray Wolf meat?"

Rumba shook his head quickly. But Jumba stepped forward, "Lord Aaron, perhaps we should retrieve the corpses. Their hides could be used for leather armor, and their bones might be useful for crafting tools."

Aaron nodded, "Take torches and bring them back."

He glanced at the map again. The red dots were already far from the camp.

"No danger for now," he added.

At his words, Rumba gathered a team and set off to collect the corpses. The camp erupted in cheers, a wave of relief washing over the people.

Khumba followed closely behind Rumba, not wanting to take any chances, just in case the night still held surprises.

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