Our Family Has Fallen

He had to unleash his true strength and take aim.

Grendel knew Warwolf would appear, but she had not anticipated their arrival to be so swift. As soon as she left the camp, she spotted the enemy at the edge of the forest. The situation unfolded just as she had predicted—the attack began.

Should I rush over now? Would it effectively thwart Warwolf? Grendel hesitated. Or should I opt for a more conservative plan: take Wang Cai back to the farm and wait for reinforcements with the strength of the collective?

It wasn’t until she saw those warriors going against the current that she felt as though she was witnessing her tribespeople charging towards Warwolf to buy her time again. At that moment, she understood she absolutely couldn’t stand by idly. She immediately drove the cart forward.

Halfway there, she suddenly sensed something—the power of an Extraordinary awakening. This is a great boon for Hamlet! she realized, immediately steering the cart towards the source of the feeling.

Then, on the road, they encountered two individuals being escorted by the Gunner.

When they met, Grendel’s gaze instantly fell upon the girl, pausing momentarily on the blood-red flower in her hand. The little girl seemed somewhat timid, possibly noticing the unabashed stare.

The child might not recognize Grendel, but the Gunner immediately knew who she was—one of the two instructors of the army’s medical course. The Potions currently in use were all concocted by her.

Remembering the captain’s instructions, he quickly held up the little boy.

”My Lady, please save this child!”

Only then did Grendel look towards the boy, understanding the situation with just one glance.

”Bring him onto the carriage.”

After a quick assessment, she noted the wound on his chest had stopped bleeding, but he remained unconscious. This indicated internal injuries, according to the research conducted by the Lord and the physicians. Even she wasn’t very confident about this situation. It was more a question of whether he could endure it. However, she could at least keep him alive for the time being.

Without any stinginess, Grendel took a Potion from her pocket and poured it into the boy.

Only then did she look towards the nearby battlefield, having made a decision in her heart.

”You two go back in the carriage.”

As she spoke, she had already jumped down from the carriage, summoning the Deer Bone Mask into her hand with a gesture, while her other hand pulled the Antler Staff from the Void. Clearly, how could the tribal heirloom not include space-type Extraordinary Equipment?

The moment she held the two pieces of Extraordinary Equipment inherited from the Deerhead Tribe, her entire demeanor underwent a significant change. She blended seamlessly with nature, which explained how she could cross Mountains alone.

The Favor of Nature—Force of Nature!

But at that moment, something unexpected happened that nobody had anticipated: Wang Cai also jumped off the carriage.

Grendel’s Potion had begun to take effect. Although Wang Cai appeared disheveled, it had been awake for some time already. Though not at its best, its condition didn’t hinder its movement. Its eyes, filled with hatred, fixed upon the distant Wolf King...

Warwolf’s true target wasn’t these soldiers; he wouldn’t even bother if they ran. But to his surprise, these men did not flee; instead, they stood their ground. This was something that hadn’t occurred in the many towns and villages they had pillaged before.

But no matter, I can easily kill all of them with a flick of my hand, he thought.

However, as he neared them, ready to launch a massacre, Warwolf suddenly became alert, his gaze instantly shifting to the two muskets readied in position. Hastily, he lifted his Battle Axe, using its broad blade to shield his front, while his other hand protected his vital areas, his body tensing in preparation.

The next second, he heard two successive gunshots. A sensation of resistance and the trembling of his Battle Axe indicated one bullet had been blocked. However, a much sharper pain from his thigh sent a chill down his spine.

The soldiers, of course, noticed his reaction.

”Hey! He got hit!”

”Damn! That was so close to his balls, just a bit off!”

”I knew you could do it! Look at him; I bet next time he’ll be covering a different spot!”

The remaining two Musketeers of the third squad didn’t waste words but hurried to reload, not knowing who had made the previous shot. Both of them had aimed for the chest, but one shot veered too high and was deflected by the axe head, while the other went low and hit the thigh.

Warwolf wasn’t dazed by the intense pain. Such a wound is no more than a scratch to me, he thought. But how could I actually be wounded?

AWOOO—!

With a roar, the muscles on Warwolf’s body swelled, and the Lead Bullet embedded in his thigh was forcibly ejected, revealing the thick fur underneath.

Supernatural Power, brats, he sneered internally. The Wolf God had blessed him with a robust physique. As long as the injury wasn’t to a vital area, it barely affected him.

In fact, the moment Warwolf was shot, the One-Eyed Wolf King charged out. The surrounding warriors of the Barbarian Tribes wouldn’t just stand by as their leader was harmed; they surged forward before Warwolf could even react.

”Form a circle! Hold the defense!” The few remaining men surrounded the two Musketeers, their Spears pointing outward like a hedgehog—albeit a severely balding one, its sparseness clearly visible.

Both sides wielded long Spears. Had the numbers been in their favor, they wouldn’t have feared these foes, but now each man had to face more than two enemies. The two Musketeers hadn’t finished reloading and were powerless. Most of their armor had been sent north. Now, apart from the squad leader’s breastplate, they only wore their regular clothing.

They couldn’t afford to be scattered; they had to maintain their formation, or they’d be broken through in one fell swoop.

”For Hamlet!” the captain shouted. He parried an incoming Spear and countered with his own, but the enemy reacted quickly, blocking his strike.

Almost the moment the two sides clashed, the battle erupted. Surrounded by a pack of wolves, the formation of nine soldiers was like a small boat in a storm, seemingly about to be swallowed by a giant wave and sunk to the bottom of the sea.

Or perhaps disaster had already struck. A soldier was wounded in the initial clash; a warrior of the Barbarian Tribes thrust his Spear into the soldier’s body. When the warrior pulled it out, blood fountained, and a white wolf, seizing the opportunity, rushed forward to bite the man’s legs. Their attacks were always coordinated; the wolves’ Hunting Tactics were perfectly displayed here.

What made the soldiers feel desperate was that they were now the prey. Though they were prepared to die, they were at a disadvantage in both numbers and individual strength...

BANG! A musket shot rang out from the distance, rapidly approaching.

The Barbarian warrior who had just tried to coordinate with the white wolf suddenly lurched and collapsed to the ground.

Such precision! The captain’s expression changed as he realized something. He looked up to see a figure standing with a musket—it was the same Musketeer he had just ordered back, wasn’t it?

”Captain! Captain!”

Suddenly, he noticed the Musketeer’s frantic reaction. Snapping to his senses, he whirled around, only to see the towering figure of Warwolf already upon him.

Instinctively, he thrust his Spear horizontally to block, but an overwhelming force sent him flying.

When the captain landed, he saw his Spear had snapped. A large gash marred his breastplate, blood already seeping out.

In that instant, he felt the shadow of death loom over him...

He looked back at the battle lines. There stood Warwolf, brandishing his Battle Axe, surrounded by the scattered soldiers whose formation had been broken. A single strike had shattered the third squad’s tenacious formation, a testament to the absolute disparity in strength.

Warwolf didn’t stop. His Battle Axe raised high, he prepared to crush these ants before him. Simultaneously, the other Barbarian warriors and the white wolves showed no mercy, eager to feast on their prey.

But it was at this moment that a sharp, furious cry rang out.

”Warwolf!”

The cry, not in the common tongue, made Warwolf’s axe-raising motion involuntarily pause. He looked up and saw a masked figure—none other than Grendel, the one he had yearned for in his thoughts, yet could never possess.