My Players Are So Fierce

1260: 426.

Holy Light above!

These undead are worth fighting!

1260: 426.

Holy Light above!

These undead are worth fighting!

“Wooo wooo wooo”

A sharp, pulling sound arose from the black sky above, like a ghost howling in the night.

Soon after, a meteorite wrapped in spiritual energy flames, dragging a long tail, fell from the sky.

It was like a torch streaking across the sky that ultimately smashed into the ground with such destructive force and impact, the intense shaking signified the final moments of the outpost and soldiers below, who were organizing a counterattack.

The meteorite skill strike was fierce and precise, sparing only a team of Pioneer Legion Rangers who had already charged into the battlefield and begun fighting against the Skeleton Army.

The stationed guards were almost entirely wiped out by the impact of colossal stones and fierce flames.

This was not a result of them underestimating the enemy.

After all, nobody could have expected a group of jackal wolfmen to be capable of using such complex spiritual energy formulas.

Although East Prussia is close to Transylvania and also plagued by local wolf people, even the elite trained personally by Marshall Loren had lacked experience in dealing with such fierce opponents from the exotic lands until they saw the difference between the Dark Mountain Jackals and the local wolf people.

Not to mention these young soldiers, even Marshall Loren, a nearly seventy-year-old half-dwarf, hadn’t experienced the Black Disaster.

Thus, theoretically, their experience in dealing with the Black Disaster was even less than that of the crippled Blood Vulture Clan.

The leader of the wolfmen magicians, Plague Tooth, coldly watched the distant outpost, now shattered and set ablaze, from atop his throne wolf.

The throne wolf under him was restless and agitated by the smell of blood, but Plague Tooth himself wasn’t thinking much about this small-scale skirmish.

If anything, this silent wolfman probably thought that the humans of the plains were extremely fragile.

Merely a low-level meteorite skill, without any enhancement from Star Realm spiritual energy, was enough to overwhelm them.

Perhaps humans also have “breed differences” like their wolfmen?

After all, Plague Tooth had fought against the human servant armies under the Blood Covenant Knight Order in the Dark Mountain Range.

Those nimble, silent, and cunning fierce opponents had caused them many difficulties during each operation and confrontation.

“No wonder that dumb Kenbort could gather such a large army in Transylvania, rampaging back and forth.

The human forces outside the Dark Mountains are as weak as legends say, just like the delicious flesh inside a cracked nut.”

Plague Tooth’s “mouth substitute,” the one-eyed jackal warlock by his side, was pouring some oddly flavored alchemical liquid into his mouth to restore his spiritual energy.

The decisive meteorite that had cemented their victory in the skirmish had been released under its supervision.

Staring at the last isolated group being surrounded and annihilated by the Skeleton Army, the warlock spoke cruelly,

“These guys will make excellent material, Plague Tooth.

We can create a real Undead Sea here!

We don’t even need support from Plague Town, perhaps we alone are enough to capture all of East Prussia for Chief Tear Flesh!”

“Hmph!”

Plague Tooth snorted through his nostrils, expressing his disdain and opposition to this terrible idea.

His thoughts were transmitted to the magicians beside him through the vibrations of spiritual energy.

Chief Tear Flesh’s orders weren’t to capture East Prussia!

Their purpose from the Chief was to destroy the armories and barracks of Transylvania, and they had merely passed through East Prussia and unexpectedly encountered this blocking outpost.

Plague Tooth had already lost interest in the inevitable development of the battlefield.

With a wave of his hand, the entire Skeleton Army immediately turned, bypassing the destroyed outpost, and continued marching rapidly along the map Hog had provided.

Hmm, there is a border village up ahead, perfect for a few hours of rest and creating more fresh corpse servants, then they could charge through this segment of the road.

All this was being watched by Chieftain Hog from the sidelines.

The wily Blood Claw Chieftain’s eyes were spinning quickly.

After the magicians proudly left the battlefield with their Elite Skeleton Army, Hog casually grabbed a guard hunter beside him and whispered:

“You!

Pick a few of the still-living wounded, give them some potion to keep them alive, scare them into calling for help!

Be smart about it, and after it’s done, head straight back to the Smugglers’ Forest.”

“Alright, Chieftain, leave it to me.”

The jackal wolfman hunter nodded frantically.

Thanks to Hog’s “high demands” on the intelligence of his clan members, his clan was filled with “sly ghosts.” Almost without needing much explanation from Hog, this hunter understood his task and rode his throne wolf, crouching down slyly, as he darted out.

The hunters and barbarian soldiers that Hog kept close were his “confidants.”

Although these individuals weren’t necessarily as close to humans as Hog, they were very dissatisfied with the haughty attitudes of the Dark Mountain Jackals.

This very sentiment guaranteed that these guys would never warm up to those they felt indifferent towards.

As Hog rode his own throne wolf, hanging far behind the main army, he was clearly prepared to flee at the first sign of trouble.

He knew that everything was within Sir Morphy’s planned scheme.

In this operation, his own part was coming to an end, and he could soon wrap up and return to Smugglers’ Forest for a boxed meal with an added chicken leg.

However, Hog evidently didn’t intend to leave just yet.

He touched the whip marks on his face, revealing a ferocious smile with his fanged mouth.

Hey, did you enjoy that whip earlier?

You enjoyed it alright.

Lastly, now it’s time for this chieftain to enjoy himself.