The midnight sun transformed Frostmoss Tundra into a blue-tinted mirror. Xu Qing lay in a snow trench overlooking Thaw Pass, watching Ironblood's "Ironback Legion" advance like molten metal. Three hundred Minotaur-forged iron-scale armors glinted coldly, pine-tar adhesive stench wafting from their joints - the weakness Xu Qing had gleaned from Goldscale's letters. Heat would melt the tar, while darkfire dust could turn their armor into kindling.
"Whitefang! Their plates are triple-thick!" Snowclaw's darkfire crossbow trembled, bear-dung paste still wet on bolts. "They carry 'Ironback Ballistae' with hundred-pace range!"
Xu Qing's pupils contracted behind goggles. His claws brushed buried "dung bombs" - darkfire shards wrapped in hides with reindeer feces, lashed to ice spikes. He touched the "steam bladder" at his waist containing elder-brewed bear oil - heat enough to liquefy tar.
"Tell Ironclaw: split warriors into Icefang and Steam teams." His voice rumbled like subglacial rivers, claws etching trap patterns in snow. "Icefang carves crevasses. Steam ambushes hotspring vents. When I signal—"
Snowclaw turned but Xu Qing grabbed his armor, pressing dung-soaked hide into his palm. "See lead ballista crews? Their axles are wood. Shoot dung-ice spikes into pivot holes." His translucent ear-tips glowed under polar day. "Follow yesterday's pawprints. No straight paths."
Noon at Thaw Pass. Ironback boots crunched ice. As ballistae raised, geysers of bear-oil steam erupted from crevasses - Xu Qing's "tundra boilers" (darkfire-heated hide bladders) spewing dung-laced vapor at armor joints.
"Plates melting!" Ironblood warriors screamed. Pine-tar dissolved, scale plates cascading off. Xu Qing detonated dung bombs. Blue flames snaked through gaps, igniting wool linings.
"Ironclaw! Flank through crevasses!" Xu Qing's roar mingled with ballistae explosions. "Dung-rotted axles—" He rolled into a snow pit as his own trap detonated, goggles slipping to reveal azure-fire eyes.
Ballistae cords snapped. Wood shrapnel shredded Ironback ranks. Icefang warriors hurled "frostwebs" - darkfire-laced spider silk cables freezing armor into struggle-traps.
Xu Qing hid behind glacial teeth, watching Goldscale's dagger gleam on the enemy commander. Aligning his father's metal shard with the tri-claw sigil, he recalled mine carvings: this symbol once united bear clans, now marked merchant betrayal.
"Lord Goldscale's dagger still sharp?" Xu Qing stumbled from cover clutching ore. "I-I came to return—" His "fumbling" kick sent the dagger into dung-bomb range. Blue flames erupted through commander's armor seams.
Dusk in prisoner pens. Xu Qing scraped tar residue from Ironback commander's armor. "Know why your plates failed?" He raised frozen dung chunk. "Tundra rats freeze bombs to crack iron tortoises."
Commander's eyes narrowed. "Heretical steam—"
"Heresy?" Xu Qing's mock-tremble voice held steel. He produced tar chunk. "Your pine-tar from Southern Cracks. Our bear-oil from reindeer grazing those same cliffs." He pressed a grease-drawn map into prisoner's paw. "Follow underground rivers. Three days hence... blizzard freezes iron-scale to shards."
His claws left five faint grooves - scout code for "retreat." Unseen darkfire-dung mixture would corrode tar bonds, ensuring armor disintegration.
In Frosthorn's tent, the war-map glowed blood-red by firepit. The elder's staff cracked Thaw Pass markings. "How knew tar melts?"
Xu Qing knelt, fingers tracing metal shard. "Last year... saw merchants seal armor..." His frost-whitened ears twitched. "Ironblood returns harder plates. We need—"
"I know." Frosthorn produced half a clan totem. "Thirty winters past, your father melted Graybear's locks with bear-oil." His voice darkened. "They repaid him with tri-claw dagger."
Xu Qing shuddered, understanding the shard's dual meaning - victory sigil and betrayal curse. His claws gleamed longer in firelight.
"Elder." He pressed the burning shard into Frosthorn's paw. "Ironback's tar remains their weakness. Next time..." His eyes blazed. "...we'll brew darkfire-oil soup. Turn Thaw Pass to smelter."
Frosthorn saw his old comrade's fire in those eyes. "Prepare." His staff-tip touched Xu Qing's brow. "Bear tri-claw marks... I'll bury you in glacial crevasses myself."
Midnight in mines. Xu Qing studied captured maps by firelight - Ironblood supply routes ending at "Graybear Southern Depot." His father's shard completed the clan totem - once unifying symbol, now merchant commodity.
"Whitefang." Ironclaw's shadow filled the entrance. "Elder sends armor—"
Xu Qing hid the shard, reverting to trembling mouse. "Q-quiet! Seeking darkfire—" He took the armor, finding his father's reclaimed mine emblem stitched inside.
Across tundra, defeat-pigeons flew to Graybear. Unseen darkfire beacons glowed in message tubes. When merchant caravans followed to Thaw Pass, they'd find no steam - but a bearskin avenger and his iron-melting traps woven from ancestral rage.
Xu Qing crouched in mine shadows, his fire-cast silhouette merging with his father's ghost. Calcifying claws confirmed "Whitefang's" vengeance awakening, the helicopter pilot's soul reforged with bear-flesh through camel-bell ambushes and smelter roars.