Free Web NovelChapter 540: Chapter 464: Teleportation
Dean Avery did not bother with the commotion below, and continued speaking in a steady yet powerful voice:
"The enemy’s specific tactical intentions are not yet fully clear. But based on our current disparity in combat power, the core demand of the Workshop’s highest decision-making level for this war comes down to a single word..."
His gaze seemed to grow even sharper as he enunciated each syllable:
"Drag!"
"At any cost, drag the enemy out! Stall them for as long as possible!"
"Whether we move on to large-scale legion engagements, or split into elite squads for guerrilla warfare, raids, and seizing key nodes, every strategic and tactical starting point is ’to buy time’! To win more time for the Workshop!"
Stall for time?
Jeming sat below the dais, fingers unconsciously rubbing the armrest as his mind raced.
This posture... the higher-ups of Nolun Workshop seem to be holding some kind of ’sure-win’ trump card—or at least something ’enough to turn the tables’?
But this trump card needs a fairly long preparation time before it can be activated or take effect?
So the core strategy at this stage is to "turtle up" at all costs, trading space and partial sacrifice for time?
But... the Tower of Annihilation and the Chaos Secret Sect aren’t idiots.
If they’re launching a joint offensive, they’re bound to have prepared targeted trump cards of their own.
Can Nolun Workshop’s "ultimate move" really stand up to the enemy’s possible, maybe even multiple, "ultimate moves"?
Jeming’s doubts did not dissipate, but Dean Avery had already finished proclaiming the highest-level strategy.
The light curtain rose slightly to clear some space, and another High Tier Wizard with a stern face and clad in pitch-black battle armor stepped forward.
He was a senior staff officer of Nolun Workshop’s military command, and also one of the instructors of Academy No.147.
In an utterly emotionless tone, he began to introduce the enemy’s known paper strength:
"Preliminary assessment of the combined combat strength on the hostile side is as follows:"
"Eighth Level Wizards: two. One from the Tower of Annihilation, one from the Chaos Secret Sect."
"Seventh Level Wizards: more than five hundred confirmed to participate in the battle."
"Sixth Level Wizards: estimated total number exceeds ten thousand."
"Fifth Level and Below Wizards: exact number unknown, but based on their conscription scope and power-scale models, total troop strength is approximately... 1.5 to 1.8 times ours."
With every number reported, the temperature in the conference hall seemed to drop another degree.
Those weren’t just cold numbers; behind them stood countless powerful individuals and a tide of war enough to drown everything.
The disadvantage was even greater than many had imagined.
As far as Jeming knew, Nolun Workshop could field only a little over four hundred Seventh Level Wizards, and that number was practically the Workshop’s entire bottom-of-the-chest reserve.
The number of Sixth Level Wizards was also not high; in the end they could muster less than seven thousand.
On top of that, Wizard Anton Buchanan’s advancement to Tier Eight Wizard was far too recent, so the gap in high-end combat strength between the two sides was significantly larger than initially expected.
After that, several Sixth Level Wizards stepped forward in turn and began going over concrete preparations.
Personnel organization, resource allocation, teleportation sequences, initial defensive deployment, establishment of communication and command links, emergency evacuation plans...
One deployment and order after another was explained clearly and methodically, and finally, the lengthy pre-war conference came to an end.
On the high platform, the projection of Dean Avery Knight nodded slightly, then rippled like water and dissipated.
Almost at the same moment, on the smooth, mirror-like metal floor of the circular stepped conference chamber, patches of complex and orderly Teleportation Runes suddenly lit up.
Light shone up from beneath their feet, enveloping every Wizard present, and spatial fluctuations grew lively yet orderly.
Jeming lowered his head and looked at the finely detailed Array Pattern under his feet, clearly just completed not long ago, and scratched his head in some surprise: "I remember last time we had a meeting here, there wasn’t... this thing underneath."
Sitting in the front row, Viola turned back when she heard that.
The serious expression she’d worn during the meeting vanished in an instant, replaced by a hint of smugness.
She gave Jeming a thumbs-up and lowered her voice: "Of course! This is the ’shortcut passage’ we rushed overnight yesterday, working around the clock to lay down! Efficient enough, right?"
Jeming looked at her face, slightly dark around the eyes but brimming with energy, then thought of those Sixth Level Grand Wizards on the dais just now, all sitting upright with an air of gravitas and unfathomable strategy. His expression darkened, his tone subtle:
"So... you were all sitting up there acting so ’serious’, looking like you were plotting a thousand miles ahead—don’t tell me it was because..."
"Of course it was because after days of setting up Arrays, tuning Energy nodes, and coordinating Teleportation parameters with other academies, we were so exhausted we just wanted to sit still and, by the way, rest our eyes for a bit!" Viola said with perfect justification, even letting out a tiny yawn. "Maintaining the image is really quite taxing on Heart Power, you know."
Jeming: "..."
For a moment, he felt the lofty, mysterious "aura" he’d attached to High Tier Wizards go "crack"—shattering all over the floor.
Before he could keep complaining, the Teleportation Array under his feet suddenly flared to full brightness!
Gentle yet irresistible Spatial Power wrapped around his body; his vision was filled with pure white light, and a slight sense of weightlessness washed over him.
When the light completely faded and his sight returned, Jeming realized he was no longer in that solemn conference room.
All around him was an expanse of extremely "orderly" desolation.
The ground was some kind of unnaturally flat, dark-gray rock, stretching out to the horizon.
The sky was a constant, pale-blue light screen lacking any natural cloud changes, radiating a uniform, gentle glow.
The air was filled with an extremely "clean" yet somewhat dull Element aura; the concentration of Energy particles of all attributes was precisely controlled to a stable ratio, with fluctuation amplitudes suppressed to a minimum.
Unlike back when he was still a novice Wizard, Jeming’s perception of Elements was now much finer, allowing him to pick up far more information.
Feeling this overly "neat" Energy environment around him, lacking natural chaos and vitality, Jeming immediately understood where he was.
"The Ship Plane, huh..." he muttered under his breath.
Thinking about it, that was only natural.
After all, the Ship Plane was originally a special Plane heavily modified by the Wizard Civilization, used specifically for void-crossing voyages or as a mobile war fortress.
It was the ideal platform for large-scale troop concentration, transit, and long-range deployment.
"Jeming! Over here!"
A familiar voice came from behind him to the side.
Jeming turned his head and saw David struggling to squeeze his way out of a cluster of Wizards who were adapting to the environment and chatting quietly.
Behind him, Seraphina, Kaelen, Reks, and Anya followed close.
David was the first to rush up to Jeming, his face a mix of the warmth of seeing an old friend and undisguised shock at Jeming’s Level.
He looked Jeming over from head to toe, carefully and repeatedly, as if to make sure this wasn’t an impostor. Then his first sentence nearly made Jeming lose it:
"You... you didn’t fry your brain, did you?!"
Jeming’s eye twitched. He answered with annoyance, "...No. I’m perfectly fine."
