Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 723

Capítulo 723: Carla’s Trick

Carla stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the dragon-guarded entrance from afar. The mountain wind clawed through her cloak and chilled her bones at the thoight if facing thise monsters, but her mind was sharper than ever.

She knew one thing. marching straight up to dragons was suicide.

So she turned her gaze slightly. Not far from this hidden draconic portal was another path into the Beyond the Veil.

one owned by the Boar Zodiac family. Unlike the dragons, the Boar clan did not rely on pride to guard their gate. Their fortress was built into the side of the mountain itself—thick black iron walls, barricades layered with runes, rotating watchtowers, ballistae armed with spirit crystals, and soldiers in full armor.

As far as Carla could see, the entire fort was tightly sealed.

Even this would normally be a nightmare to infiltrate.

But Chiron had taught her one thing—never waste effort when precision can do the work of an army.

And so, she had waited.

For two full weeks, she watched the guards. From cliffs, trees, shadows, and mirages she wove with demon mist, she studied the rhythm of their life—shifts, patrol rotations, lantern refills, even which guards smoked or snuck food during night duty.

This was how Chiron always studied his enemies before he made them regret life.

She found a gap.

And she moved.

The night was thick with fog and torchlight. Two guards strolled lazily across the eastern wall, yawning, one absentmindedly tapping his spear against the stone.

Carla slid beneath the wooden beams of a supply wagon as it rolled in through the eastern checkpoint. She pressed her body flat, cloaked in demon energy to mask her heartbeat. The guards lifted the lanterns and checked only above the wheels—not beneath.

She slipped off silently once inside.

Past the gate, she ducked between shadows—soldiers sharpening spears, others eating stew from tin bowls, one group gambling with dice near the fire pit, laughter masking their boredom. Commanders stood near maps inside an open pavilion—discussing recent movements of the Holy Church.

She avoided them… like smoke, she passed.

Climbing the inner wall, she held her breath as a patrol of four soldiers marched below, armor clinking in rhythm, lanterns swaying side to side. One paused to scratch his beard. Another muttered about wishing he was home, not guarding “a damn sealed gate that hasn’t been opened in centuries.”

When the path cleared, Carla hopped onto a balcony and dropped silently into a dark corridor.

Finally… she reached it.

The Beyond the Veil gate.

It was a massive stone door carved directly into the mountain’s side, sealed with chains thick as tree trunks, layered with green spirit runes. And worse—arrays of cannons, spirit crossbows, and jade cannister launchers were all pointed directly at it, ready to annihilate anything that moved from the other side.

Her heart sank.

Even if she got inside… she would die before taking five steps.

“What now…?” she muttered.

Then—an idea.

A wicked, Chiron-like idea.

Her lips curved.

She turned back the way she came. Found the soldiers’ locker hall—empty, lit only by moonlight slanting through small windows. Rows of uniforms hung neatly, armor plates stacked, belts with enchanted gadgets resting in boxes.

She moved quickly.

She picked an officer’s uniform. A mask. Spirit badge. A handful of communication talismans.

Then, at the bottom shelf of a steel cabinet—she found a small green vial. Its liquid glowed faintly, like swirling emerald mist.

The moment she touched it, her demon instincts whispered—a dangerous, ancient alchemy.

She took it.

Everything into the storage ring.

Then—she vanished back into the night.

But instead of leaving, she turned her gaze once more to the dragon-guarded valley.

She crouched at the top of a cliff, half-hidden behind boulders.

There they were.

Two dragons.

Massive beasts curled atop broken ruins—midnight scales, molten gold eyes. Their bodies radiated heat like living volcanoes, smoke curling from their nostrils. Their wings—folded like blades. Their claws dug into the stone, leaving cracks. Their tails twitched lazily, like they owned the world.

They did not build walls.

They were the walls.

Carla’s throat felt dry.

This was madness.

Yet… her lips tilted into a grin.

“Annoy the dragons,” she whispered to herself.

“Yes… let’s.”

And with that, she moved.

Goal: Harass the dragons. Stir chaos. And force the Boar Barracks to panic.

Carla didn’t linger once she’d set everything into motion.

She hurled a handful of rocks and cracked open sealed jars of pungent odor traps—items she’d stolen from the Boar barrack supply rooms—toward the lounging dragons. One jar contained hardened pellets of boar army dung. She flung them near the dragon nests. Thick, nauseating fumes immediately rose, clashing violently with the dragons’ sharp senses.

A second item she left behind was a dented Boar Legion helmet, the sigil of the tusked crest partially scratched but still recognizable. The leather chin strap fluttered in the breeze, lying atop footprints that seemed to trail away chaotically. Beside it was the third—half a boot. Torn at the ankle, smeared with mud and streaks of dried blood, it rested as though it had been lost during a frantic escape.

It was perfect. Careless. Panicked. Convincing.

Carla slipped into the shadows even before the dragons roared.

A guttural, bone-shaking bellow echoed all the way down the mountain slopes as one of the two dragons—a colossal emerald-scaled beast with wings like tattered storm clouds—snapped upright. Its molten gold eyes narrowed at the insolent defilement near its nest. Prideful. Furious. Insulted.

Without hesitation, it launched into the sky, claws tearing grooves into the stone as it propelled upward with a thunderous beat of its wings. The wind howled. Pebbles and dust spiraled as it ascended, and then it turned—heading directly toward the Boar family barracks.

Carla was already scaling the cliffs opposite the entrance, fingers expertly finding jagged holds in the rocks as she hid herself between sharp stone ridges. She crouched low, cloak pressed tightly against her body, watching.

The barracks below exploded into chaos.

The moment the soldiers spotted the dragon’s silhouette blotting out the morning sun, horns blared, and alarm bells rang in rapid succession. Ballistae rotated with grinding iron, their massive arrowheads catching the light as they were fitted into place.

At the gate, the commander stepped out onto the stone platform, voice booming, “Why are you invading Boar territ—”

He never finished.

A torrent of bright-orange flames engulfed him mid-sentence.

For one horrifying second, his armor glowed white-hot—then crumbled into ash. The wall blackened, stone hissing as molten embers dripped where he had stood.

The dragon hovered, wings beating with arrogance, clearly satisfied with its vengeance and ready to depart.

But the Boar soldiers reacted with fury.

“Loose!” someone roared.

A volley of ballista arrows rocketed into the sky. Some bounced off the dragon’s scales with dull clangs, but others pierced the thinner flesh at its wing joints and underbelly. The dragon roared in pain—a roar that rattled bones and sent flocks of distant birds scattering.

It twisted midair, fire roaring from its maw in wide arcs, setting watchtowers ablaze. But the damage was done.

It was now war.

A full-blown battle erupted between the pride of a dragon and the relentless discipline of the Boar armed forces.

High on the cliff, hidden in silence, Carla watched it unfold—every explosion, every plume of smoke, every flaming arrow streaking against the sky.

Her lips curled into a quiet smile.

Then, without wasting another heartbeat, she turned and sprinted toward the Dragon-guarded entrance.