My Players Are So Fierce

1756: 586.

Chieftains of Moss Valley – Adding More for the Brother of “Little Rag Who Doesn’t Eat Fish” [28/30]_3

1756: 586.

Chieftains of Moss Valley – Adding More for the Brother of “Little Rag Who Doesn’t Eat Fish” [28/30]_3

“You will lead them.”

“Hm?”

The Hunting Military Governor looked at his own chieftain in astonishment.

Although the Wolf People rarely have those who are good at thinking, any Wolf Person who can reach the high and powerful position of Military Governor must have some brains.

He immediately detected another meaning in the chieftain’s words, but the old chieftain did not explain further, merely saying succinctly:

“This Black Disaster is different from the past ones.

Although the main force is still the Wolf People, it only appears as such.

Personally, I do not intend to exhaust all of our elite clan members on this matter; after all, we have to prepare for the real arrival of the Spiritual Energy Tide in ten years.

That will be the true moment of life and death.

To put it bluntly, the one in ten years will be the real ‘Fifth Black Disaster.’

Just remember what I said: preserve yourself above all else.”

“Hmm.”

The Hunting Military Governor asked no more questions, maintaining his respectful posture as he watched his chieftain leave.

Then, he immediately carried out the order.

Almost simultaneously with the Whip-tail Chieftain’s arrival at King Bite Bone’s tent, a formidable force of elite hunters departed from the large camp, heading toward the position of Blackflame Mountain Pass.

The Transia People were in trouble.

Faced with the most battle-hardened Military Governor of the Whip-tail Clan, that small highland might not last a few days before being annihilated.

However, in the face of such a major event as the Black Disaster, the gain or loss of a small highland was insignificant.

As the old Whip-tail Chieftain entered the tent, leaning on his bone-made staff and trembling, the chieftains and military governors of the other three Elder Clans were discussing specific strategies.

This does not mean the Wolf People impulsively launched the Black Disaster.

Although they are reckless, they are also methodical.

The only uncertain aspect at present is the main direction of the attack.

The old chieftain slowly settled into his seat.

He seemed to have dozed off, but this was merely the cunning old man’s crafty trick; in truth, his mind was as clear as a mirror.

According to the “advanced experience” of the King of Bone Biting, taking the road of Transylvania is certainly not wrong to gain results, as that weak place has been ravaged by the Black Disaster four times, being the first to collapse each time.

The chieftains’ maps of Transylvania were even more detailed than those of the Blood Vulture Clan.

But this time, the Black Disaster is indeed different.

It is not a battle of life and death for food and survival rights; it is a purposeful war!

“We must head for the Brass Fortress!”

The host of this tent, the contemporary Grand Marshal of the Bonebite Clan, known as the King of Bone Biting, Gehrman Bonebite, roared hoarsely:

“The failures of the King of Bone Biting and the previous three Black Disasters have already proven that targeting Transylvania might gain us an advantage, but will also lead to a direct, head-on assault from the two most powerful human nations.

We cannot achieve victory through a path of failure.

But if we can capture the Brass Fortress, then the most prosperous peninsula on the continent will open its doors to us.

Pillaging there will allow the Wolf People to rise quickly, and the terrain of the Ligurian Peninsula is also more conducive to defense.

We can move our clansmen there, effectively solving the hunger problem that has troubled the Wolf People for nearly a thousand years.”

“Don’t be foolish, Gehrman!”

Claw Chief Mother Botana, wearing a voodoo hood, scolded coldly:

“Throwing yourself and all our troops won’t pry open the doors of the Brass Fortress.

Those dwarves have turned an entire mountain into a wall that blocks us.

If you can move that mountain.

We’ve been hung up on this silly issue for days.

I’ve had enough of your stubbornness!

I’ve made up my mind.

I will lead my clan and my army to Blackflame Mountain Pass!

You…

Go wherever you want.”

“Botana!

Calm down, we must unite…”

The old Whip-tail Chieftain chimed in timely.

It sounded like an awakening interjection, filled with the decay and clichés expected of an old geezer.

Equally elderly but still very shrewd and sly, even Claw Chief Mother was too lazy to respond to such a call, but by speaking her true thoughts, she instead brought an eerie silence to the tent where disputes had been raging for the past few days.

The seemingly rough Gehrman Bonebite exchanged a glance with the Divine Chosen Priest of the Blood Scar Clan, these two Wolf People silently exchanging looks, and finally, the Priest of the Blood Scar Clan stood up and said:

“Alright, since Claw Clan intends to bear the responsibility of attacking the Transylvania direction alone, then I will no longer hide anything.

The reason we must go to the Brass Fortress is very simple.

You should have all heard some rumors recently about our god…

The great Master of Hunting is about to be born.”

This remark widened the eyes of all the chieftains and senior military governors, and even the old Whip-tail Chieftain became invigorated as all gazes concentrated on the Blood Scar Priest.

He deliberately paused, then emphasized as he continued:

“That rumor was intentionally spread by us; it is true!

Our god has already gained a physical form in the subspace and Star Realm, and now is only a step away from kindling the Divine Fire to ascend to godhood!

This process is very complex, but you can simply understand it as our soldiers needing to fight within the divine jurisdiction of the Master of Hunting.

Hunting, slaughter, and war!

We must achieve these three points to provide sufficient faith power for our god.

This is why we must attack the Brass Fortress.

Only there can our soldiers indulge in slaughter and create terrifying wars.

The Transia People are too weak; they appear fierce but collapse at the slightest touch, unable to provide the force we need.

Chief Gorman’s words were not completely wrong either.

We couldn’t capture the Brass Fortress before because the dwarves had their god protecting that mountain, but once our god is born, a mere Brass Fortress is nothing.

The soldiers of the Blood Scar Clan this time will obey the orders of the King of Bone Biting, and the priests and I will stay in Moss Valley to complete the ritual of igniting the Divine Fire.

Do you have any other questions?”

The tent fell into dead silence; everyone was at a loss when faced with the news of the imminent birth of a divine spirit.

The problem faced by the Wolf People was much like that of the vampires: although they spoke of a divine spirit’s name, they all knew it was false, merely serving as psychological comfort.

But now, falsehood was about to become reality.

“This time, we will undoubtedly capture the Brass Fortress!”

Gehrman Bonebite stood up.

This Wolf Person, very similar to the King of Bone Biting, and even more robust, pounded the table and roared:

“The countless years of accumulated wealth and power of the dwarves and half-body men will belong to us!

What the King of Bone Biting failed to achieve, we will realize with our own hands!

Everyone, under our leadership, the Wolf People, lost for a thousand years, will become great again!”