My Players Are So Fierce

1485: 500.

Hog’s Ghostly Task Number Two_2

1485: 500.

Hog’s Ghostly Task Number Two_2

Of course, even Nash, Hog’s most trusted companion, had expressed opposition to his adventure.

Nash believed that the Black Disaster was coming.

Wouldn’t the Polluted Swamp inevitably become the frontline where Transia People and the Black Disaster Jackal Men clash, making Chieftain Hog’s decision to settle in the swamp at this time a certain death wish?

Whether it’s the Transia People or the Black Disaster Jackal Men, both are forces that their own weaker local jackals could not possibly provoke!

To such concerns, Hog snorted in disdain.

The Blood Claw Chief admitted that he too was once full of fear for the Black Disaster, but now he had learned to view the matter in another way and from another angle.

If Sir Morphy has decided to push the frontline of Transia to the Wasteland Mountain at the Dark Mountain Range, the Polluted Swamp would become a strategic depth for Transia.

Not to mention whether the Transia People can stop the Jackal army at the Dark Mountain Range, even if the Black Disaster Jackal Men really do break through, what of it?

Hog could see very clearly that the Swamp Giant Snake had already submitted to Sir Morphy, which meant that the most lethal force in the swamp was at Sir Morphy’s command!

This meant that Wolf Castle, which is closest to the Swamp Forbidden Area, would also be in the defense perimeter of the giant snake.

Sir Morphy never wages a battle without confidence, and his warriors never waste time on doomed endeavors.

Since they dare to gamble the fate of the entire Transia on winning this battle, Chieftain Hog also has the courage to “lay down his life as a companion to a gentleman.”

It was just like that sentence Little Wei Ming, the Dog-headed Military Advisor, told him back when he was trembling with fear in the cage at Crimson Castle:

“Don’t always think about what you might lose, think more about what you can gain!

That’s the mindset of a winner!”

That saying was Hog’s guideline for action.

He believed in it wholeheartedly.

However, Chieftain Hog’s insomnia tonight had nothing to do with that saying or what he was going to do next.

Blood Claw Chief’s insomnia came very strangely tonight; he had fallen asleep at the temporary camp near Wolf Castle, suddenly woke up, and then fell asleep and woke up again.

Hog couldn’t understand what was disturbing his sleep, but he knew he might have encountered some sort of indescribable “supernatural event.”

“This swamp is still freakin’ eerie!

Tomorrow I’ll go to the Witch Hunter’s place and ask Mother Mary Ann to conduct a Soul Consoling Ritual for me, I suspect I might be haunted by some filthy thing.”

The third time Hog was woken from his sleep, he simply gave up on it.

He grumbled and threw on a furry cloak bought from Crimson Castle, yawned, and sat down by the campfire, and took out a rolled-up beast-skin from his bosom—it was his “Chieftain’s Notebook,” which contained his plans for the future written in crooked script.

This was a habit he learned from Sir Morphy; planning is always for the long term, it’s impossible to remember all the details and ideas just with one’s brain—a good memory does not compare to a bad pen.

Writing down thoughts as they come is the foundation to ensure the smooth progression of the plan.

Hog yawned, reviewed his previous ideas, and the Jackal Barbarian Soldiers patrolling around the temporary campsite, seeing their chieftain so restless, didn’t dare to approach and ask.

But they were sure that there was no danger nearby; even the prowling hyenas didn’t smell the scent of wild beasts.

Maybe the chieftain couldn’t sleep because he had too much roasted crocodile for lunch?

Or was it because he was overthinking?

After all, no local jackal pondered constantly over such messy thoughts like he did.

Now inside the Bloodclaw Clan, rumors abound that Chieftain Hog had once been blessed by The Master of Hunting, who asked what he wished for.

Hog replied with a wish for wisdom, so The Master of Hunting took away Hog’s once-strong body and gave him ten times the wisdom of a common jackal.

You really can’t pinpoint the exact source of this rumor, but its effect is undoubtedly effective.

Most jackals argue whether Chieftain Hog’s wisdom is really ten times that of a common jackal, but it seems they all take for granted that Hog has been blessed by The Master of Hunting.

“Damn it, why can’t I concentrate tonight?”

Hog, sitting by the campfire, slapped himself hard to try and become more alert, but as he looked at the densely packed words on the beast-skin in his hand, he felt even sleepier.

Feeling an indescribable irritation, he set aside the beast-skin and looked up at the burning fire in front of him.

The flame in front of Hog kept burning, expanding, and even started to spin, drawing all his attention along with the flickering light, extending continuously.

By the time Hog realized that something was wrong, it was already too late.

His entire mind was blurred and he could hear himself snoring.

In the last moment of consciousness, his gaze went beyond the campfire and he saw a box placed on the opposite side.

The skull of the King of Bone Biting lay in that box.

And in that moment, Hog seemed to see a pair of green gleaming eyes staring at him from inside the box.

“Fuck!

This goddamn thing!”

Hog cursed aloud, ready to fight off this strange phenomenon, but as he leaped up, his consciousness seemed to break into another mysterious space.

He remained frozen in the awkward posture of leaping, looking around, and all he could see was grassy fields and sunny prairies stretching far and wide.