The Howling Legion had a glorious war history spanning thousands of years.
It was one of the dozens of legions that were rebuilt by the high-level orcs after the Major Extermination Order.
It was also one of the five main forces of the werewolves.
Not only did they inherit the coldness, bloodthirstiness, speed of movement, and plunder like fire of the werewolves, but they also inherited the characteristics of the werewolves.
Moreover, there was a special mineral in the depths of the earth near the base, which made the local Datura fruits rich in various trace elements.
Even the members of the Howling Legion, who ate the Datura Fruits as their staple food, had sharp eyesight like that of a hawk. They also had the talent of being able to see like torches in the pitch-black darkness.
This talent made them especially good at it, and they especially liked to fight at night.
Countless times, they were like shadows without any bulk or weight, completely blending into the darkness and quietly approaching the enemy.
Without breathing, suppressing their heartbeat, and without temperature, these stealthy ghosts would only pop out their sharpest claws and teeth from the enemy's throat at the last moment.
At this time, they would instantly burst out the roars that they had been suppressing, turning into ear-piercing, heart-piercing howls.
That was how the Howling Legion got its name.
Such a magnificent battle record was sung about by countless war epics, and they had never been defeated by the sorcerers of the Land of Holy Light, the Night Watchers, the curses of the elves, and the wrath of the dwarves in all the Battles of Glory. How could they be defeated by the Big Horn Legion?
The first reaction of the rat people when they received this incredible news was not joy, but suspicion.
Even the most devout fanatic had a series of question marks about the authenticity of the victory.
What shocked them was not only the news of the Howling Legion's defeat.
But also the method of defeat and the results achieved.
According to the victory report, on a starless night, the Big Horn Legion used the method that the Howling Legion was best at — night raids — to utterly defeat these ghosts in the darkness.
The warriors blessed by the Rat God cleverly took advantage of the Howling Legion's underestimation of the enemy and their carelessness. They had already used earthworks to ambush the Howling Legion's camp.
It was not until midnight, when everybody on the enemy believed that it was the most advantageous situation for them and that they were least likely to run into an enemy, that they charged out of the underground and carried out the 'decapitation strategy'. They broke into the command center of the Howling Legion instantly and executed 'Nighthold', the commander of the Howling Legion. Eventually, the Howling Legion collapsed.
"Even the Nightwalkers were killed by the Great Horn Army?"
Even the Ice Storm's jaw almost dislocated when he heard this horrifying news.
The ice storm told Meng Chao that the Nighthawks were fierce warriors of the wolf race.
In the past thirty to fifty years of relatively dull prosperity, there were no large-scale battles between Turanze and the Land of Holy Light. However, there were never any large-scale conflicts between Turanze and the Land of Holy Light.
The slaughter and destruction caused by the secret squads that broke into the enemy's territory would only be ten times crueler than the direct confrontation on the battlefield.
The Nighthawks had grown up in such bloody and cruel squads and secret battles. They were notorious for their brutality.
It was said that before he completed his coming of age ceremony, he had followed his clansmen into the Land of Holy Light and cut off the heads of seven night watchers as his coming of age ceremony.
Once he gained control of his clan, he had the right to personally lead a squad and slaughter his way into the Land of Holy Light alone.
He also brought out the advantage of the wolf race's agility and ability to fight at night to its fullest.
Almost every time he attacked, he would gain great rewards.
Every time he returned to Turanze, he would always have the bloody heads of the night watchers hanging on his waist.
It was to the point that the night watchers, who were used to protecting the light in the dark, would be so terrified that their expressions would change drastically when they heard the shrill howls of the wolf general. They would want the long night to pass quickly so that the light of dawn would turn into armor to protect their fragile throats and hearts.
That was how the name Nighthawk came about.
He was originally a member of the nobility of the wolf race, and he had made great contributions in the conflicts with their mortal enemy of ten thousand years. Now, the Nighthawk was not just a simple general of a normal army.
He was one of the few giants of the wolf race in terms of prestige, power, and fighting strength.
Even in front of the lion-men and tiger-men, he had a considerable say.
Such a ruthless and ferocious person was actually "beheaded" by the Big Horn Army in a night attack?
For a moment, the valley camp was dead silent.
The air pressure, which was already so low that it was hard to breathe, condensed into invisible rocks.
The rat people looked at each other, not knowing whether they should believe this great news or not.
Until more cavalry from the main force of the Big Horn Army appeared.
They brought with them a large amount of military equipment and war flags that they had captured.
The war flag of the Howling Army was carefully woven from the fur of the wolf race's tail. It contained a special sense of ferocity.
Even though it was burned and riddled with holes, it still fluttered in the wind, faintly letting out shrill howls.
This was something that could not be faked, no matter what.
Moreover, if they really wanted to fabricate the results of the battle, there was no need to fabricate such an exaggerated and unreasonable result as "killing the Nighthawk".
It seemed that it should be true.
After all, all lies had logic.
Only reality could be so absurd and unbelievable.
When a large amount of captured spoils of war — black armor smeared with black oil paint, especially suitable for night battles, iron rods embedded with wolf fangs, tents and flags engraved with the emblem of the wolf race — were piled up in the middle of the valley camp for the rat people to trample and pick from, all the rat people's doubts turned into ecstasy like a volcanic eruption.
If escaping from Blackhorn City and other devil's dens was just like growing a pair of wings and flying to the clouds.
In a field battle, they had defeated a well-known veteran battle group. It was as if they had pulled down the entire sky and ruthlessly stepped on it.
The iron-clad fact proved that the fighting strength of the main force of the Big Horn Army was far beyond everyone's imagination.
The raging tide of rat people could not only devour the empty cities guarded by the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled.
They would also be able to compete with the true ace troops on the battlefield where only the brave would win.
Before the news of victory arrived, some of the rat people had been confused about the future, fearful of the massive army made up of totemic warriors, and displeased with the increasingly thin and bland food.
But now, it was gone. All confusion, fear, and dissatisfaction had been thrown out of their minds.
"The supreme Big Horn Rat God!"
"The invincible Big Horn Army!"
"The incomparably glorious sixth clan!"
In the valley camp, all the rat people knelt down on the ground. They were like a raging, undulating ocean. They let out sincere cries that came from the bottom of their hearts to the omnipresent and omnipotent ancestral spirits.
Now, be it the mountains of blades, the seas of fire, or the roars of the God of Death, they could not stop their advance.
Even if each of them was given a broom and they were starved for three days and three nights, even if their stomachs were rumbling with hunger, they still dared to wave their brooms and charge toward Pure Gold City, the grandest and sturdiest city in all of Turanze.
In the boiling ocean, only two small reefs remained unmoved.
Alright, since they were forced to do so, Meng Chao and the ice storm were like the other rat people. They shouted at the top of their lungs and worshiped.
But even though their faces were flushed red and their seemingly fanatical expressions appeared on their faces, their gazes were still as sharp as blades drawn out of the snow.
"How is this possible?"
After they worshiped madly, many of the rat people fell to the ground in exhaustion. They spread their limbs and widened their eyes to look at the Big Horn Rat God in the sky, who had been blessing them all this while.
Meng Chao and the ice storm curled up in a corner and eagerly discussed the latest battle report and the storm that was about to stir up.
First of all, the news of victory was definitely real.
If it was just to boost morale, there was no need for them to use Nighthawk, who was a famous and well-known giant of the wolf race as a target.
After all, if Nighthawk was still alive, even if he was heavily injured by the Big Horn Army, as long as he gritted his teeth and stood out on the battlefield, it would be easy for him to expose a clumsy lie.
But to say that the Big Horn Army could defeat the Golden Clan's massive army in an upright manner and even kill the enemy's commander?
Meng Chao would never believe it.
It was not that he looked down on the rat people's fighting strength.
It was because he knew very well just how terrifying the thousand-year-old nobles of the high-grade orcs were after they were equipped with the highest grade totem armor.
As a descendant of the wolf race, Nighthawk could personally lead a small squad of his family to attack the Land of Holy Light as if he was entering an uninhabited land.
He would definitely have high vigilance and great fighting strength.
And his totem armor would definitely have been upgraded to the point that even if his master was unconscious, he could still activate the cruise function and take his master away from the battlefield.
Even if the command center was really ambushed by the Big Horn Army.
Could he not even be able to "escape with his body alone"?
Yes, as the commander of an army, fleeing in panic — and being forced to flee by the rat people at that — was definitely not something to be proud of. If things went wrong, his reputation would be ruined and he would be infamous for a thousand years.
If the enemy he faced was the trump card army from the Land of Holy Light, there was a high possibility that Nighthawk would choose to fight to the death.
But "being killed by the rat people" and "being defeated by the rat people" would both turn him into a laughing stock. What was the difference …
"The so-called main force of the Big Horn Army would definitely not be able to defeat a trump card like the Howling Battle Group, much less kill a veteran general like Nighthawk, who has been through hundreds of battles, unless —"
Meng Chao sucked in a deep breath and stared at the answer that slowly appeared in the depths of his mind. A cold smile appeared on his lips.
He suddenly tossed a seemingly unrelated question to Hailstorm. "I'm guessing that this unlucky giant of the wolf race, Nighthawk, doesn't have a good relationship with Jackal Canus, who rules over the entire wolf race, right?"
Hailstorm was slightly stunned.
He instinctively nodded.
"Jackal" Canus, who led the werewolves, did not have a good relationship with the chiefs and priests who controlled the various settlements of the werewolves. They were even at loggerheads on many issues. This was something that everybody knew. It was also the old method that the lion and tiger tribes had used to keep the werewolves in check for the past three thousand years.
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