Chapter 224 : Chapter 224
Chapter 224. The Behemoth Giants Take the Field
At that moment, inside the Orcs’ Main Tent outside the Land of Resilience, the bonfire crackled, illuminating the savage faces of the great Clan Chiefs.
The air was filled with the scorched smell of roasted meat and the scent of strong liquor, yet it could not suppress the tense atmosphere within the tent.
“Delay… delay… delay…”
Guzhanla suddenly hurled his Bone Cup to the ground, spilling the liquor inside across the beast-hide carpet.
“Our clansmen are being turned into meat paste beneath the walls every single day! If this keeps dragging on, we will not even need the Kroll people to act. Hunger alone will starve half our warriors to death.”
“I propose that we have the Domain-Level Powerhouses lead the attack directly, tear open that broken wall, and storm into the Land of Resilience.”
Behind him, the Frostwolf Clan warriors growled in unison. Their battle axes struck the ground, shaking dust loose from the roof of the tent.
The Chief of the Blackrock Clan, however, slowly shook his head. His fingertips rubbed the beast-fang necklace at his waist, and his voice was as heavy as the frozen earth outside the tent.
“Guzhanla, do you think Domain-Level Powerhouses are wolf pups? That we can send them out whenever we please?”
He raised his eyes, and a trace of dread flashed through his crimson pupils.
“The Kroll Kingdom has Dragon Island backing it. Those winged old monsters have lived for over a thousand years, and their scales are harder than our Black Iron Shields.”
“That woman called Daenerys contracted five Domain Giant Dragons in one breath. Can you guarantee that this is all they have hidden?”
The tent fell silent at once. Even the crackling of the bonfire became clear.
The sixteen Domain-Level Powerhouses were the trump cards of this Orc Alliance, the final straw that could crush the camel.
But if they were lost here…
“We brought two million clansmen here.”
The Blackrock Chief’s voice sank even lower.
“If those sixteen powerhouses die beneath Dragon Breath, who will protect our clansmen when they retreat back to the Northern Continent? Who will stop the Kroll people’s counterattack?”
Guzhanla’s chest heaved violently, yet he could not utter a rebuttal.
He knew Blackrock was speaking the truth. Under ordinary circumstances, a Domain Giant Dragon could fight two enemies at once.
Outside the tent, the roars of Wolf Riders suddenly rang out, followed closely by the long cry of a Giant Dragon. The wooden poles supporting the tent roof buzzed from the shock.
Several of them rose at the same time and lifted the tent flap to look outside. They saw several golden shadows sweeping across the sky above the fortress. Wherever the Dragon Breath of Legendary Giant Dragons passed, gaps were instantly blasted open in the Orcs’ charging formation, and screams rose one after another.
“Do you see?”
The Blackrock Chief’s voice carried a chill.
“This is the confidence of the Kroll Kingdom. Our Domain-Level Powerhouses cannot be sacrificed for nothing.”
Guzhanla gripped his battle axe tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
The bonfire inside the tent gradually weakened, illuminating the silent profiles of the chiefs.
Millions of Orcs were still roaring beneath the walls, yet that fortress, which had seemed on the verge of collapse, now resembled a red-hot branding iron. It burned so fiercely that they did not dare reach out rashly.
The night wind blew into the tent, carrying the stench of blood from beneath the walls.
The Blackrock Chief looked toward the Kroll military banner flying atop the fortress and suddenly said in a low voice, “Perhaps… it is time to ask ‘that one’ to act.”
Guzhanla abruptly raised his head, and a trace of fear flashed through his eyes.
“You mean…”
“Only ‘that race’ can deal with those Giant Dragons.”
The Blackrock Chief’s voice dropped extremely low, as though he feared the wind might hear him.
“Though the price will be steep, it is still better than letting a million clansmen die here.”
The firelight flickered across his face, revealing a nearly mad resolve.
For three consecutive days, the walls of the Land of Resilience heard no Orc siege horns. Even the air carried an eerie calm.
Xilan stood on the Arrow Tower, looking toward the tightly sealed Orc Main Camp in the distance, his brows furrowed into a knot.
Three groups of Scouts had been sent out in succession, and all of them returned saying that the Orcs were sharpening their battle axes and feeding their war wolves inside the camp, but none of them showed themselves. They were like a pack of dormant beasts, waiting for some signal.
“What are they waiting for?”
The Adjutant rubbed his palms together, unease in his voice.
“How much grain does a million mouths consume every day? Dragging this out does them no good.”
Xilan said nothing. He merely touched the dried bloodstains on the city bricks.
He had fought wars for more than ten years, and what he feared most was this kind of dead silence. Behind calm, there was often an even more ruthless killing move.
On the morning of the fourth day, the sky suddenly darkened.
It was not dark clouds blotting out the sun, but a heavy, oppressive sensation, as though an invisible mountain had descended upon everyone’s heart.
The soldiers on the wall suddenly stirred. Someone pointed toward the sky, his voice trembling beyond control.
“W-What is that?”
Xilan abruptly raised his head, and his pupils contracted.
He saw three openings tear through the clouds. Three colossal figures that blotted out the sky slowly descended.
They were Behemoth Giants.
They were as tall as ten-story towers, covered in bronze-colored thick hide. Every muscle looked like surging rock, and tusks jutted from the corners of their mouths, gleaming with a cold light that seemed capable of tearing steel apart.
Most terrifying of all was their aura. It was violent, primitive, and carried a savage force that could crush everything. Even the air beneath the walls hummed from the pressure.
“Behemoths… They are actually Behemoths.”
The Gold Legion Commander beside him cried out in disbelief, his hand trembling around his sword.
“A race that was already said to be near extinction in legend. How could they appear here?”
Xilan stared fixedly at those three figures, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.
He had once seen records in ancient books: Behemoth Giants had even weaker reproductive ability than Giant Dragons. It took a hundred years for one offspring to be conceived, and whether it survived was another matter entirely. Yet once grown, they could contend head-on with several Domain-Level Powerhouses, and even Ancient Dragons had to avoid their edge.
The Orcs actually managed to invite these three “living fossils”?
High in the sky, the leading Behemoth let out a deafening roar. The sound wave swept across the wall, sending stone chips falling in showers.
The Orc Main Camp below the city instantly boiled over. A million Orcs roared at the same time, and the sound of battle axes striking shields gathered into a stormy tide. Even the earth trembled faintly.
“Prepare for battle.”
Xilan suddenly drew his sword, its blade flashing with a resolute cold light in the morning sun.
“Pass down my order. All archers, prepare Armor-Piercing Arrows. Mage Legions, activate the Earth Guardian Array! Tell the Experimental Legion in the rear to… stand by at any time!”
He knew that the previous stalemate had all been an illusion.
What the Orcs had been waiting for was this ultimate weapon, one powerful enough to tear apart all defensive lines.
The meat grinder beneath the city wall was finally about to welcome its bloodiest round of crushing.
The giant claw of a Behemoth Giant slowly rose beneath the clouds, its shadow covering the entire fortress.
Xilan looked at that claw, which was large enough to smash the city gate apart, and suddenly recalled the final line of the ancient records:
Those who encounter a Behemoth will either die or be crippled.
The soldiers on the wall tightened their grips on their weapons. No one spoke. There were only heartbeats mingling with the distant roars of the Orcs, like the prelude to a tragedy destined to be brutal.