The longest night is finally over.

Peace and light are far from coming - perhaps, they will never come.

In the entire garrison area with a radius of hundreds of miles, the chaos that plunged the Great Horn Legion into irreversible chaos continues.

And, like dozens of tornadoes colliding together, it became more and more violent.

Rumors about "The Saint of Ancient Dreams was assassinated, the food reserves in Black Horn City were burned, and even the Great Horned Rat God completely abandoned us" have spread to the outermost areas of the Great Horn Legion's garrison area like a burning virus.

third-line troops.

Because of the strong sunlight and extremely high visibility, the soldiers of these third-line troops could clearly see the huge smoke column rising into the sky in the direction of Black Point City, even if they were dozens of miles apart.

Many high-level priests and low-level commanders who have particularly keen senses and whose brain ports have long been opened by the Saint of Ancient Dreams are constantly seeing the deformed, ugly and disgusting image of the zombie rat god in front of their eyes.

They unknowingly act as signal relay stations and amplifiers.

He used his own brain waves to enhance and amplify the image of the zombie rat god, and then projected it onto the visual nerves of the surrounding soldiers.

The last traces of morale of the rat warriors, who had long since run out of ammunition and food, collapsed and disappeared in an instant.

Not to mention that there are still many rat warriors who were originally equipped with fragments of totem armor.

As their faith collapsed and their spirits collapsed, they could no longer control this killing machine that contained ancient superior technology.

As the liquid-like metal substances in the body proliferate, mutate and surge.

They all turned into terrifying, crazy and demon-like origin warriors.

Turning every tent of the Great Horned Rat God into a whirlpool leading straight to the deepest part of hell.

Looking from a distance, a river of blood flows for hundreds of miles, turning it into a hell on earth.

A few days ago, the frenzy of the rat people, who had bravely attacked Hundred Blades City without fear of death and made the clan warriors tremble, finally exposed the true colors of the mob.

No one believes that they can capture Hundred Blades City and Red Gold City successively, gain recognition from the five major clans, and establish the "Big Horn Clan" belonging to all rat people.

But no one knows what the next strategy will be.

It is to inherit the legacy of the ancient dream saint and fight to the last soldier.

Or make a strategic retreat to preserve your vitality.

If we were to retreat, where could we retreat to when we were surrounded on all sides and faced with enemies everywhere? Why should we persist?

In fact, many commanders and priests of the army, because their brains are particularly developed, have been indoctrinated by the Saint of Ancient Dreams many times. At this moment, they are also the first to start to become mad, and the madness is the most serious.

Ordinary soldiers often just have a splitting headache and see the phantom of the zombie rat god in a trance.

Thanks to the fact that their brains are not that flexible, it is even difficult for them to understand what the zombie rat god, whose body is rotting and looks like a giant, symbolizes.

But their commanders and priests were already screaming, and colorful flames spewed out from their seven orifices. Before the soldiers had time to react, they poured water and sand on their heads, burning their heads and brains.

Clean and tidy.

All that's left is a headless body, still dancing strangely under the whipping of nerve currents.

With no leader and no ammunition and food, ordinary rat warriors, even if they still have the strength of nine bulls and two tigers, don't know which direction to step forward or raise their swords.

Just then.

A warg that is taller and more ferocious than a centaur, with smelly saliva flowing from its mouth, and covered with thorns and heavy armor.

And behind them, there are wolf cavalry who are also armed to the teeth, leaving no gaps in their bodies.

There are also swords inlaid with wolf teeth that look like hacksaws.

Appearing like a ghost from the jungle on the edge of the battlefield.

No, they were not in a hurry to attack.

At this moment, the Great Horn Legion is like a whirlpool in a swamp. If they charge rashly, they will probably sink deep into the mud and be buried with these madmen who suffer from mental breakdown and madness.

Secondly, there are still a few troops, including the elite of the Bone Battalion, who have not completely collapsed.

If the Wolf Cavalry puts too much pressure on them, it may stimulate the Great Horn Legion to restore order and regroup under the threat of death.

Therefore, the wolf cavalry were just wandering around the edge of the Great Horn Legion's garrison area, looking at the withered bones in the messed up graves with eyes that were half sarcastic and half cold.

Of course, they will not wait in vain and waste time.

In the jungle behind the Wolf Cavalry, hundreds of plumes of smoke rose.

The aroma of cooking and roasting datura fruits in the smoke was like an invisible python, worming its way into the forts of the Great Horn Legion from all directions, tightly wrapping around the stomachs and souls of all the hungry soldiers.

Behind him is a bloody battlefield.

Ahead is food that will make your mouth water, make your stomach twitch, and torture your soul.

The spiritual defenses of many rat warriors were riddled with holes and on the verge of collapse as early as the moment they heard that the Saint of Ancient Dreams had been assassinated and that the Great Horned Rat God had abandoned them.

At this moment, the last string deep in his brain was completely broken.

Before rational thinking has made correct and prudent judgments.

Their central nervous system has already issued instructions to the nerve endings and muscle fibers, their eyes are blank, they open their arms, and they stumble towards the direction of the smoke and fragrance.

Of course they knew that there were countless wolf cavalry dormant deep in the jungle.

But they really couldn't endure such a torturous day for even half a moment.

Even if he was killed by wolf cavalry on the way to the food.

At least, they died happily while surrounded by the rich, juice-like aroma of Datura fruits.

There is no need to continue to endure the pain of slowly suffocating to death in this world where there is no hope at all.

To the surprise of these rat warriors, the wolf cavalry did not kill them.

In fact, when they staggered into the depths of the jungle, the ghostly wolf cavalry disappeared like mist under the sun.

Only the aroma of the Datura fruit became more and more intense, still deeply enchanting them like a beautiful snake twisting in an enchanting dance.

Deep in the silent jungle.

They forgot the chaos and fighting behind them.

Even the ghost of the zombie rat god lingering on the retina was gradually replaced by the illusion of pots of mandala fruits that were fried to a golden crisp and smeared with a large amount of sour cream.

Unknowingly, they stepped into the depths of the jungle.

But the road here is really rough and difficult.

Not only are there all kinds of vines, thorns and shrubs, they are growing like crazy at a speed visible to the naked eye, firmly blocking every intestinal trail.

Some unscrupulous person dug a large number of pits between thorns and shrubs.

The pit is not deep.

There are no rusty blades, poisonous sharp bamboos or other vicious means of killing people placed underneath.

But clearing away the thorns and bushes and constantly falling and climbing out of the pits still drained the last bit of strength from the rat warriors.

If there is a mountain of swords and a sea of ​​fire ahead, even the food in Hundred Blades City will be burned away.

They had long been lying limply on the ground, as if they were stuck in the soil by extremely sticky biological glue, and they couldn't even move a little toe.

But ahead is an increasingly rich aroma.

In addition to frying and boiling datura fruits.

It seems that there is also plump and fat beast flesh, smeared and roasted with dozens of spices, a fragrance that can awaken the deepest animalistic instincts in the genes of advanced orcs.

These fragrances penetrated the souls of the rat warriors like sharp arrows covered with barbs.

Keep pulling their souls deeper into the jungle.

When they used their hands and feet to roll and crawl, they finally climbed out of the jungle area densely covered with thorn bushes and pits.

Our own formation has long been torn to pieces and completely defeated.

The sword he had been holding tightly in his hand had been thrown into an unknown pit.

The front suddenly opened up, and there were clearings in the forest.

The dazzling sunlight outlines the pattern of wolf claws that guarantee victory on the blood-stained battle flag.

There are dozens of large pots lined up in a row, with large amounts of food fried and boiled in them.

A lot of plump, tender, soft, quivering, crystal clear, crispy and fall-off-the-bone food.

These foods emit aromas visible to the naked eye like a volcanic eruption.

The fragrance turned into an air hammer, hitting the faces of all the lucky ones who broke through the jungle.

The impact caused them to spin around, their eyes were filled with stars, their vision kept shrinking, and their eyes were firmly focused on the thick soup that was rolling up and down, and the datura fruit that almost melted into the soup.
Chapter completed!