Meng Chao's guess was right.
Wildhammer was playing the game of carrot and stick.
He wanted to subdue the squad that he had coveted for a long time, not tire Meng Chao and the others to death.
Hence, when the rat people gritted their teeth and ran dozens of laps to show enough obedience, Wildhammer, who could not find any fault with them, had them stop. Then, he pretended to lecture them before he started slapping them and rubbing their cheeks. He told them that he had arranged for a very sumptuous banquet that night. Besides, he was a person who made clear punishments and rewards. He would never mistreat a brave warrior. As long as they risked their lives and worked hard with their master, they would definitely become true warriors in the Glory Era and enjoy benefits that the other rat people could never enjoy in their entire lives.
The dinner that night was indeed very sumptuous.
Apart from the deep fried Datura fruits that were covered in sour cream, each of the rat people also received a large piece of bloody totemic beast meat, half a fragrant Golden Fruit, and even a gurgling bottle of strong liquor.
After all, these servant soldiers could be considered elite warriors among the tens of thousands of rat people since they had been able to last for so long in the Blood Skull Coliseum. Since war was imminent, their master had to give them some benefits.
However, the delicacies that usually made people drool tasted like wax to the rat people at that moment, and they could not stir up any morale.
The fact that the Great Horned Rat God did not exist and that the messenger was a spy sent by the Golden Clan was a blow to the rat people's hearts, and it was far greater than what the warriors imagined.
The result of their faith being destroyed was that many of the rat people were like Leaf. They might no longer believe in the Great Horned Rat God, but they did not believe in the nonsense that they would fight and die for the Blood Hoof Clan. They would use their blood and courage to obtain supreme glory.
Since the Great Horned Rat God was fake, who could guarantee that the ancestral spirit of the Blood Hoof Clan was not fake?
With that thought in mind, the rat people entered a state of despair. They did not believe in anything, and they were lazy and could not lift their spirits.
However, under the threat of the military officer's whip and the supervision team's sabers, they were driven by their desire to survive and moved forward mechanically.
In the words of the warriors of the clans, who were gnashing their teeth in exasperation, "Those losers do not look like the noble warriors of Tulan at all. They are even more lackluster than the skeleton soldiers in the Nether World Desert who have lost the control of the liches!"
Of course, most of the rat people didn't see themselves as "noble warriors of Tulan".
They were just ants, ants that wanted to survive.
And this was caused by the high and mighty clan masters over the past tens of thousands of years.
The rat people of Turanze were like the skeleton soldiers of the Netherworld Empire. They were consumables that did not require any thoughts or spirit.
No matter what they thought, the war machine of the entire Blackhorn City rumbled and operated amidst the clan warriors' passionate bugles and war drums.
When the red star that seemed to be three to five times larger than the sun on Earth tore apart the last bit of darkness of the long night and poured the first surging river of blood into Blackhorn City, soul-shaking war drums had already resounded in the hundreds of temples in the major families and arenas.
At the same time, a colorful pillar of light that was surrounded by a lot of cuneiform characters rose from the sky of every temple.
Hundreds of pillars of light were like pillars that supported the sky and the earth. Together, they supported a magnificent, magnificent, invisible, and yet all the bloody hoof warriors could clearly sense the enormous temple that covered the entire city.
Inside the invisible temple, all the warriors of the Blood Hoof Clan, including the Minotaurs and Boars who had ancient bloodlines, and the Gnolls, Lizardmen, and Feather Clan who had just joined the Blood Hoof Clan through the Blood Bestowment Ritual, saw the magnificent, earth-shattering primeval battlefield in a trance.
They saw how the ancestral spirits, who were fearless and unyielding, fought against the Evil God of Twilight, who was trying to kill all the lives on the land.
They heard the angry roars and heroic laughter of the ancestral spirits.
They were also affected by the emotional roars of the ancestral spirits. They couldn't wait to rush into the Land of Holy Light and the tower that was said to be connected to the sky. They wanted to go to the boundless starry sky and fight the Evil God of Twilight, who was trying to control everything, to the death with their insignificant bodies of flesh and blood.
Just like that, every temple was filled with the strongest warriors of the various families.
Every temple let out a roar that resounded through the clouds and shattered metal and stone.
While the priests were chanting and dancing that surpassed the limits of the human body, teams that were armed to the teeth marched out of the temples one after another.
At this moment, the sky was just beginning to brighten.
There were still many places in Blackhorn City where the sunlight could not reach.
Every warrior of the clans was holding a torch made of the enormous leg bone of a totem beast and the flexible branches of the Mandala Tree that were soaked in oil.
Tens of thousands of torches extended into a flaming dragon that bared its fangs and brandished its claws.
The fire dragons passed through the alleys and dilapidated walls and gathered on the main road, becoming thicker, fiercer, and brighter.
They turned from a team of several hundred people into a battle gang of several thousand people, and then into a battle group of ten thousand people.
At the front of the battle group, ancient battle flags that could be traced back to thousands of years ago fluttered in the wind.
Because they were soaked in the blood of countless warriors, these battle flags that were surrounded by spiritual energy did not show any signs of pollution or damage. Instead, as the uniform roars of the clans' warriors echoed, they emitted an incomparably magnificent light and condensed into clusters of dazzling human figures. It was as if heroes from epics had descended to the mortal world, guiding the new generation of Tulan warriors toward their unfinished business.
Just like that, when the sun rose, there were already more than ten battle groups gathered in front of the oldest temple outside of Blackhorn City, under a Mandala Tree that had almost ten thousand years of history. It was so thick that even dozens of people couldn't wrap their arms around it.
The newly formed Blood Skull Battle Group was the youngest battle group in Blackhorn City.
As the commander of the battle group, Casava Bloodhoof naturally wanted to make a grand entrance and gain the upper hand.
However, the ancestor's soul played a great joke on him.
Many of the rat men in his Blood Skull Battle Group were suffering from acute illnesses.
First, they vomited and had diarrhea. Then, they felt hot and cold. Next, they felt dizzy, and their bodies were covered in cold sweat. Their muscles were twitching, and their joints were aching, as if hundreds of burning needles had been stabbed into them. The slightest movement would cause them so much pain that they almost fainted. They could not even stand up, much less gather and fight.
The clan warriors had thought that the rat men were up to no good.
After breaking two whips in a row, they failed to whip the rat men up. Moreover, the servant soldiers were all gritting their teeth with hideous expressions. It was only then that they realized that things were not good.
It must be noted that even the "house rats" who had served the Bloodhoof Family for hundreds of years and were absolutely loyal to their masters had suffered. Their legs had turned to jelly, and they could not climb out after falling into a cesspit.
It was definitely not a disguise.
The witch doctors of the Blood Skull Battle Group had also confirmed that the poor rat men were indeed suffering from acute illnesses.
To be more precise, they had been poisoned.
All of the infected rat men had one thing in common. They had all been rewarded at the same time last night and eaten exceptionally sumptuous food.
The witch doctors studied the leftover food.
In the end, they found something strange in the sour cream and liquor that had been distributed to the servant soldiers.
It was a poison that none of the witch doctors had seen before.
It had the effects of many powerful secret medicines, including laxatives.
For the weak bodies of the rat men, eating a mouthful of sour cream and drinking a small bowl of liquor would definitely cause them to suffer from food poisoning.
The witch doctors did not have any good solutions for food poisoning.
After all, so much time had passed since last night's dinner. The poison had long entered the blood and limbs of the rat men. It was useless to force them to vomit.
It was obvious that the liquor and sour cream could not have spoiled at the same time and produced such a strange poison.
Someone had deliberately poisoned them to hinder the Blood Skull Battle Group's operation.
"Bastard!"
Casafa was furious.
A blacklist immediately appeared in his mind.
Fortunately, after the witch doctors studied it for a long time, they came to the conclusion that while the poison was domineering, it was not fatal.
Besides, it came and went quickly. As long as the poisoned rat men were carried to a cool place to rest, they would be fed milder honey mixed with mandala fruit paste soup, and they would slowly recover in a day or two.
Well-trained servant soldiers were valuable resources in war.
Casafa could only pinch his nose and have the witch doctors solve the food poisoning problem as soon as possible.
He led the warriors and servants who had not been poisoned and rushed to the Black Horn Temple.
Unfortunately, most of the rat men in Wildhammer Squad were poisoned.
The rat men from the original Ice Storm Squad, which Meng Chao had just subdued, had severe symptoms of food poisoning.
When they were being rewarded the previous night, they had carried out Meng Chao's orders loyally. They opened their cheeks and teeth and wolfed down the food. All of their stomachs were so full that they looked like they were pregnant and as thin as cicada wings.
Later, they were the ones who vomited and had diarrhea the most.
The entire training camp was filled with a foul stench because of them.
That was why when Wildhammer walked to the entrance of the training camp in anger, he sneezed because of the stench.
Seeing that they did not look like humans, nor did they look like ghosts, and that their breathing was weak, as if they were about to kick out at any time, this clan warrior, who had always been cruel and merciless and did not care about the lives of the rat people, also felt a little scared.
After all, Casafa had snatched this well-trained and powerful squad from the Ice Storm Squad and handed them over to him. It was not without a price.
If he had the strongest warriors, he had to carry out the most difficult missions.
This was only natural.
If he did not even see the Golden Clan and the Holy Light Humans or even reach Black Horn Temple, the entire squad would be destroyed in his hands.
Even the simple-minded Wildhammer could imagine how sharp Casafa Bloody Hoof's gaze would be when it pierced through him.
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