Chapter 422: The Strategy of the Collision

The tiny Eight Trigrams chessboard emitted two tethering beams that pulled both teams inside; Dorothy clearly felt a pulling force dragging at her.

This force was not strong—if she wished to break free, it would be easy—but there was no real need to.

Once all participants ceased resisting, those illuminated by the tethering beams rapidly shrank and were sucked into the chessboard, which was no larger than a single table.

Afterwards, those still outside witnessed violent tremors within the board, revealing a complex war map.

The map was octagonal, with both sides' bases situated on the eastern and western edges; the contestants previously absorbed now waited at their respective bases.

When Dorothy opened and closed her eyes, she found herself atop a temple-like structure, seated on a throne at its summit, while the twelve witch judges she had selected stood below in the grand hall.

The home witch looked outward from the temple—but everything beyond was invisible, shrouded in thick black mist that rendered all beyond hazy and unknowable.

"Damn, so they added fog of war?"

Dorothy wasn't particularly surprised; after all, this was a common mechanic in strategy games.

After all, the core of any strategy game is information superiority—the side that uncovers more of the map and tracks the enemy's movements better gains the advantage.

Once every enemy move is under surveillance, victory becomes inevitable.

She glanced beside her throne and found a map, roughly showing the chessboard's shape—but it was entirely black, revealing nothing except the two bases.

"Hmm, why are there only witch heroes? Where are the infantry minions?"

The home witch looked down at the hall—only witches were visible, no other monstrous minions. She frowned slightly.

Yet the moment this doubt surfaced in her mind, the answer naturally appeared within her.

The chessboard seemed capable of directly implanting game rules into the player's mind—any question arose and was instantly answered.

"Pretty advanced."

Dorothy sighed, skimmed the newly appeared rules, and understood everything immediately.

Minions in this war chess were resources: players had to send heroes to explore the map, gather resources, return them to base, build a barracks, and only then unlock specific troop types.

Even the barracks had tiers: iron, bronze, silver, and gold—each corresponding to a racial tier; only a barracks of a certain rank could produce troops of that rank.

The speed of troop production also depended on base tier, and base tier depended on the number of resource points under your control.

With the rules understood this far, the general gameplay of the war chess became clear.

Early game: send teams to explore the map, seize resources, capture key resource points; use those resources to upgrade barracks, produce higher-tier troops, then seize more resource points, raise base tier, accelerate troop production, and snowball the advantage.

"Hmm, I understand completely."

Seated on the throne, Dorothy nodded, then formed a temporary group chat via mental link with the twelve witches below, sharing the game rules within it.

"So, Boss Clown, should we split up and scout for resource points right away?"

After reading the rules, Madeline, wearing her Knight-Mask, stepped forward and asked.

"No. You eight—go straight into the center of the map, set an ambush, and when you spot a lone angel, swarm and beat them down. But don't go too deep. The remaining four will split up and scout."

Dorothy said.

She hated micromanagement—she only liked fighting in games. Whenever in doubt, just charge forward; if that fails, figure it out later.

And this wasn't even charging—it was strategy. This was surprise, this was striking where unprepared.

"You eight—Knight, Frostmaiden, Little Bun, Phoenix, Ghost Mask, Star Burial, Elemental Queen, Phantom Girl—go."

Dorothy selected the eight strongest among the twelve, then opened her palm—eight beams of spiritual light shot out, transforming into eight small flags that merged into their bodies.

As the player, the home witch could not leave her base and could not fight personally—but all auxiliary abilities remained usable.

Those eight flags were eight spells: Heaven Spell, Earth Spell, Wind Spell, Cloud Spell, Dragon Spell, Tiger Spell, Bird Spell, Snake Spell. Individually, each was merely a strong buff—but when combined, they formed a unique formation: a miniature Eight Trigrams Array.

This was a strategic magic Dorothy created by studying countless military texts and playing countless strategy games.

Well, honestly, she wasn't even sure if this counted as magic—the core of the formation came from memories of her past life's Qimen Qimen Dunjia techniques.

Frankly, even Dorothy thought it absurd: in her past life, she was just an ordinary shut-in, not a professional Taoist. Her understanding of Qimen Qimen Dunjia was limited to what novelists described and some basic online research.

Back then, she dismissed all mystical nonsense as either "cultural heritage" or, more accurately, feudal superstition.

But in this life, when she retrieved those memories from her Hall of Memories, something strange happened—the once incomprehensible, cryptic, heavenly-scripted texts now made sudden, strange sense to her.

Concepts like Yin-Yang, the Four Symbols, the Eight Trigrams—once meaningless to her past self—now radiated a strange beauty, as if holding infinite Dao.

But ask her what exactly she understood? She couldn't say. Under inspiration, her current life's military knowledge fused with ancient traditions, forming this Eight Trigrams Array.

She now genuinely believed her past life had been in the Decline of the Dao—perhaps the immortals of myth had truly existed.

Ugh, it's infuriating—if immortals really existed, why didn't I get reincarnated to cultivate? Being a witch is nowhere near as fun as cultivation.

Dorothy often sighed with regret.

She cursed herself for not reading more Taoist texts or cultivation methods in her past life—if she had memorized the Dao De Jing, maybe she could've unlocked her own cultivation technique. After all, even the simple Yin-Yang and Eight Trigrams diagram had let her deduce this Eight Trigrams Array—what if she'd memorized everything?

Shaking her head, the home witch cast aside her regrets and turned to the eight witches, who stared at the flags inside them with confusion.

"This is a safeguard. You're all new to team operations and unfamiliar with each other. Even in a group brawl, I doubt you'll coordinate well. These eight spells will ensure perfect synergy."

The eight froze, skeptical—coordination came from long-term training; they'd never heard of a method to force it.

But none dared question her—they'd already witnessed the Boss Clown's incredible powers during their trials. If she said it worked, it worked; they were just ignorant.

Without hesitation, the eight witches turned and stepped out, plunging straight into the black mist ahead.

As they moved, Dorothy noticed a straight line appear on her previously black map—representing her team's exploration progress.

But after glancing at the map, she turned her gaze to the remaining four witches.

The Seer of the Divination School, the Alchemist of the Potion School, the Vice-Chairman of the Traveler School, and the lucky elf witch, Child of the Woods.

None were strong in direct combat—perfect for scouting and resource gathering.

"Seer, Child of the Woods, come here."

She held the map and waved them over.

The two witches approached, puzzled—what was the Boss Clown planning now?

"Seer, can you divinate the location of resource points?"

Dorothy asked, hopeful.

Time for the prophet to shine. Fog of war? Fine—we'll use X-ray vision.

She cursed her poor Divination School training—if her prophecy spells weren't so unreliable, she'd have cast them herself.

"I tried. But this chessboard seems to have anti-divination wards—the spells are suppressed. I can only vaguely sense these few spots might hold resources."

The cow-headed witch, small in stature, crowned with massive horns beneath her star mask, pointed to several locations on the map, then spoke apologetically.

"At least some of these spots have resources—but I can't say which ones exactly."

"That's fine. You've done well."

Though the X-ray vision failed, Dorothy didn't scold the clearly guilty cow-headed witch—instead, she spoke gently to comfort her, then turned to the bewildered elf witch beside her.

The Child of the Woods was panicked—since joining the Inquisition, her luck had been terrible. Every rule seemed designed to target her: first, no familiar allowed in trials; now, in battle against angels, her familiars and minions were banned. Was summoning even allowed anymore?

She wasn't weak—her familiars were powerful. Why was she always targeted? Why were familiars classified as minions, requiring barracks to summon?

The elf witch trembled with rage.

Without familiars or minions, half her abilities were useless. She'd stayed quiet, terrified her weakness would be exposed—yet now, her leader called her out. Feeling the Boss Clown's gaze again, she panicked.

"Don't be afraid—I won't eat you. Why are you shaking? Come on, pick four of these circles. Any four. Go with your first instinct."

Dorothy looked at the trembling subordinate, sighed, and reassured her.

This one was a luck god. With X-ray vision blocked, luck was power.

"Uh… these four."

Confused but obedient, the Child of the Woods quickly tapped four circles on the map.

Dorothy smiled.

"Alright, these four. You four go directly to these spots and check for resource points."

The home witch gave the order cheerfully.

At this point, only luck could guide them—there was no other option.

Sigh. If Sophilaya were here, she'd have opened X-ray vision for me instantly.

Dorothy missed her roommate.

Her casual choice left the four witches speechless.

Come on, Boss Clown—this is a crucial match for witch pride! Please take it seriously! How can you be this reckless?

Still, none protested. They merely stared at their capricious superior, then each picked a target and departed.

Thus, four more straight lines appeared on Dorothy's map.

"Ugh, so annoying. Strategy games are boring. I just want the fighting to start."

Seated on the throne, the home witch stared at the map, bored.

After a long while, she tensed—her eyes locked onto the straight line piercing the map. At its end, beside her eight witch icons, nine red icons now appeared.

But…

"One, two, three… nine. Oh, wow—they went for the same plan?"

Seeing the enemy's nine angels emerge, Dorothy slapped her thigh, delighted.

Perfect—we can have a mirror match. Now, time for micro-management.

Dorothy closed her eyes—her spirit traveled along the eight flags to the front lines.

... Dorothy is now spirit-linked...