My Players Are So Fierce

After all, conquering the Brass Fortress is something even its ancestor, the King of Bone Biting, could not achieve.

Gehrman is still very young.

He is in the prime of his life as a Wolf People, and even if he does not manage to accomplish the great feat of dominating the continent this time, the true Black Disaster formed by the surge of Spiritual Energy in the Dark Mountain Range in a few decades will be his opportunity.

He has many cards in his hand.

More choices naturally bring greater ease.

“Pass my order: reward the clan that took the arsenal last night!

Replenish their fallen warriors, and give them more Gnolls so they can continue to spearhead the attack.

As long as they capture the second level, I will grant them more fertile territory and bestow upon them the honor of being the first to plunder the Ligurian Peninsula.

The Bonebite Clan will claim only twenty percent of all spoils, the rest shall belong to them.”

King Gehrman laughed heartily as he stuffed the venison into his mouth, tossing another piece of rich deer liver to the messenger who brought him the report, along with a bag of his own wine for him to enjoy on the road.

This was his unique “art of manipulation.”

Although crude and straightforward, this approach catered to the low-ranking Wolf People.

Gehrman always maintained this generous style of “lifting the lowly,” earning him considerable prestige within the Bonebite Clan.

However, King Bite Bone, who had everything going smoothly, also had his worries.

For instance, after breakfast, as he routinely inspected the military camp, he unsurprisingly found that the Whip-tail Clan’s camp remained in the same old spot from yesterday.

That formidable clan seemed to have no intention of engaging in the frontal war on the Brass Fortress and continuously dispatched their elite Throne Wolf Riders to fight against the scattered Dwarf Clans near Gorgon Mountain Pass.

The cunning Old Xinger called it “clearing potential threats for the great King Bite Bone,” but in reality, Gehrman was fully aware of what the old trickster was up to.

“Go to the Whip-tail Clan and deliver my command, tell Chief Xinger to attend a banquet with me this afternoon, and say that we have just acquired a batch of elite Dwarf supplies, and I intend to share some of these treasures with my loyal war partners.”

Riding on the back of the luxurious white Throne Wolf King, Gehrman·Bonebite said to one of his trusted Military Governors, who nodded in a deep voice.

Gehrman’s inspection continued.

Compared to the Whip-tail Clan’s lackluster effort, the Blood Scar Clan under his command performed outstandingly.

It was likely because the Blood Scar Clan was the most pious among the Wolf People, leading them to go all out for the birth of The Master of Hunting.

The Blood Scar Clan’s warrior believers and Hunting Priests were almost the first forces to charge into the Brass Fortress, engaging in street battles with the Dwarves.

The six-day assault decimated three core vassal clans.

Such losses made Gehrman click his tongue in astonishment and heartache, but the Grand Marshal of the Blood Scar Clan remained indifferent, continuously sending more reinforcements.

Their frenzied stance even forced King Bite Bone to dispatch a Military Governor to persuade and even stop them.

The elite of the Elder Clan isn’t meant to be used like this!

The current battle is still in its early stages, and it’s enough to let the peripheral clans die; the elite must be preserved and used to break through the core when the opponent is worn out.

If every elite Wolf People are like currency in the hands of the Clan Chiefs, they must be used in the most appropriate places, and your current actions are equivalent to using a Gold Coin to smash open a door!

It’s not that you can’t do that, but clearly using cannon fodder is more cost-effective.

“My King!

A messenger has arrived from the Blackflame Mountain Pass.”

Just as Gehrman finished his “post-meal exercise,” intending to personally lead warriors to enjoy a few assaults on Dwarf Forts at the front line, a Bipedal Dragon Knight brought him sudden news.

This made Gehrman somewhat displeased.

He didn’t like the Pī zhǎo Clan or anything related to that clan, nor the cunning Old Botana, who had always covertly plotted dangerous schemes, yet Gehrman couldn’t find evidence.

This time during the Black Disaster, the Pī zhǎo Clan voluntarily attacking in the direction of Transylvania was a development Gehrman wished to see, as it meant he wouldn’t be hindered.

However, now they sent someone over, clearly indicating there was a problem on the Blackflame Mountain Pass battlefield.

The layer of mist brought down by the dusk shielded the communications between the Dwarves and the outside world, but it also cut off the Wolf People in the battlefield from outside contact, preventing Gehrman from receiving external news during these six days.

Yet, as allies, the Wolf People had “privileges.”

They could freely pass through the layer of Subspace Mist covering the battlefield at dawn or dusk, but only in limited numbers, essentially locking themselves and the enemy in an octagon cage, needing one to fall before they could leave.

In the eyes of other races, this mode of warfare was overly dangerous, but for the Wolf People, it was just right.

“Let the Pī zhǎo Clan members wait for me in the tent.”

Gehrman·Bonebite gestured with his claws, saying:

“I’ll kill 50 Dwarves and then go meet them, don’t worry, I won’t keep them waiting too long.”

With that, the King of Bone Biting took off with his trusted aides out of the camp.

As it turned out, as he said, for a Gold Stage Wolf People, 50 Dwarves weren’t a difficult target at all.

An hour later, Gehrman returned victorious, then heard the shocking news in his tent.

“What?

Old Botana…

ahem, I mean, Chief Botana died in battle?

And ten thousand troops of the Pī zhǎo Clan were entirely wiped out?

What kind of damned vampire joke is this?

How was this battle even fought!