"In three days," Nightingale said suddenly.

"Yes, in three days." Roland nodded. At the current marching speed, the First Army would reach the designated offensive position in three days—a small, elevated hill whose peak faced the outpost. It offered not only a broad view but was also ideal for setting up defensive fortifications.

Once they gained a foothold, it would be difficult for the devils to shake the line of guns and cannons.

However, the pressure on the sniper squad's head would also increase sharply in the coming days.

Their guarantee of being silent was to cut off the enemy's perceptual vision without anyone knowing. On the vast plains, without the ability to transmit messages in real time, it would be almost impossible to accurately grasp the attacker's position.

But with the increase in patrol units, the devils had the possibility of using numerical superiority to exchange for real-time messages—simply witnessing the moment the missing person was shot down would greatly narrow the search circle, making it risky for them to strike again.

The best result would be that the enemy noticed the existence of the sniper squad but could not lock down their specific location, while the latter would withdraw in time and head to rendezvous with the First Army. This would not only tie down the devils' air force but also buy enough time for the main force.

However, all of this needed to be judged by them.

Sooner or later would make this attack full of variables.

"You should trust them," Nightingale seemed to see Roland's worry. "The witches of Taquila shouldn't be too far off in judging risks. The Magic Ark can also avoid most pursuits. Even if they encounter a squad of devils, it wouldn't be easy to gnaw them down."

"That's right," Roland patted his cheeks. In the end, it was still the inadequacy of Neverwinter's strength that required such a risk. The speed of walking seriously restricted the limit of the First Army. If they could equip wheeled vehicles, they could launch a lightning war that arrived in the morning and left in the evening on such a plain. Even if the army marched under the eyes of the Terror Beasts, the enemy wouldn't have time to stop them.

Instead of worrying needlessly, he should focus on the work at hand.

"By the way, Wendy should have mastered the basic principles of flight, right?"

"Probably," Nightingale smiled and threw a piece of dried fish into her mouth. "Last night she was talking in her sleep, muttering that the runway was clear and the green lights were all on."

"That's good," Roland looked out the window. "The weather seems pretty good today, it seems we can proceed to the next test."

"Oh? Are you planning to officially test the real thing..." Nightingale's eyes lit up.

"What, are you interested in it?"

"Who wouldn't be interested!" she said excitedly. "Soaring through the sky without wings, and the hot air balloon is even more free, anyone can control it, it sounds almost like a miracle—if it succeeds, do you know how the people will see you? I'm afraid even the gods will find it difficult to shake your prestige."

When she said this, Nightingale's expression was even brighter than receiving a chaotic drink, as if she was the one who had won the admiration of the crowd.

Roland couldn't help but laugh. "It's just in the exploratory stage, there's still a long way to go to achieve what you said."

At least the steam engine couldn't meet its needs, he needed a more powerful source of power.

"But it will eventually be realized, right?" Nightingale walked to the door with her hands behind her back, and turned back with a smile.

"Yes," Roland responded without hesitation, "it will."

…

One kilometer east of Shallow Beach Harbor.

The beach that emerges from the water sinks into the sea here, leaving only a section of stone ridge that extends continuously to the southeast. It is this long stone ridge that constitutes the outline of the entire southern part of the Kingdom of Graycastle.

For inlanders living in the Western Region, this boundary is just a part of the hilly terrain. Ascending the gently rising earthen slope, you can see the vast Whirlpool Sea; but for merchants at sea, this is an insurmountable barrier. The average height difference between the sea surface and the stone ridge is more than fifteen meters, not to mention the inability to load and unload goods, even approaching and docking is dangerous. Therefore, before Shallow Beach was opened, even though one-third of the Western Region's border was adjacent to the sea, there was no sea port.

It can be said that the overall economic level of the western part of the kingdom is not as good as the eastern and southern regions. The main reason, in addition to the destruction caused by the Evil Moon, is the lack of seaports.

However, this kind of terrain has now become an excellent test flight site.

When Roland and his party arrived here, the garrison troops stationed in Neverwinter had strictly sealed off the area within a kilometer.

At one end of the concrete-paved runway, three identical test prototypes were being pushed onto the lift platform by soldiers.

"Wow! Is this the new machine you're talking about," Thunder touched his chin and commented, "Judging from the appearance alone, it does remind one of seabirds, but compared to those powerful steam engines...it seems a little thin."

As the most reliable overseas ally, Thunder, the outstanding explorer of the Fjords, and the female merchant Margaret were naturally on Roland's list of invitees to observe. Roland was not surprised by the former's evaluation. After smiling mysteriously, he turned his head to Margaret. "What do you think?"

"Your Majesty," the latter said frankly, "To be honest, it's so different from your previous creations that if you hadn't personally invited me, I would have thought that someone was using your name to cheat."

"The Thing Society?" Roland asked curiously, "What kind of organization is that?"

"A guild established by a group of daydreamers between craftsmen and adventurers," Margaret explained slowly, "They are not content with the ordinary life of craftsmen, but they dare not devote themselves to the unpredictable sea, so they focus their energy on various strange inventions. Two years ago, someone made something similar—a pair of wooden wings that were said to allow the wearer to fly."

"Wooden...wings?"

"A bit similar to yours, but much smaller, about one person wide."

"Did he fly?" Wendy couldn't help asking.

"No," Margaret shook her head, "He put on the wings and jumped from a high tower. The wings quickly flipped over and fell like a stone, and he crashed to the ground, dead."

Wendy couldn't help but swallow.

"And before that, he claimed to have succeeded several times, and attracted the attention of several large chambers of commerce. Therefore, this scam not only made him a laughing stock, but also made the Thing Society's already bad reputation even worse."

Roland couldn't help but feel a sense of emotion when he heard this. Using wood to make wings obviously meant that he realized that the greatest possible lift was the key to flight, and only with a rigid frame could he support enough force-bearing area—at this point, he basically got rid of the simple imitation of birds, and the prototype of a fixed-wing was born.

It can be said that the other party was a pioneer in exploring the sky, at least much more advanced than the human-made wings, umbrella flying, and cloak flying that had appeared in history.

Successful several times was probably not just a lie, but short-range gliding experiments conducted at low altitudes. However, the wind at high altitudes was much stronger, and the wings lacked control surfaces, so it was expected that they would lose control in an instant.

Unfortunately, the Fjords admired explorers who could bring living space to the islanders, and those who dared not go to sea were unlikely to receive a fair evaluation.

"He can't be considered a liar," Roland said slowly, "Getting rid of the shackles of the earth and embracing the sky requires a great price. If I didn't have the help of the witches, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to avoid this process. If that person has a name, record this matter."

Margaret was stunned for a moment, then lifted her skirt, "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Roland turned his gaze to the "Glider Type 1", which was making final preparations before the test flight—compared to steam trains and iron seaships, it did look thin and useless, and could not even be called a complete aircraft.

There was no cabin, and the whole body was full of exposed skeletons. Apart from the long wings, the other parts omitted even the skin. For the sake of escape, the seat was directly installed between the wings, and at first glance, the model was still too crude.

Unlike all previous machines, Roland was a blank slate in the field of flight, and simply knowing the principle was not enough to create a real aircraft.

Therefore, the first thing to do was to write a "Flight Manual" first.

And these seemingly crude test prototypes already contained the basic control elements required for an aircraft.

It looks like a newborn wumao chick.

But it is the starting point for mankind to spread its wings and fly.