Oh My God! Earthlings are Insane!

The longest night is finally over.

Peace and light are far from coming—perhaps, never will come.

In the entire garrison area with a radius of hundreds of miles, the chaos that caused the Big Horn Legion to fall into perdition is still continuing.

And, like dozens of tornadoes colliding fiercely together, it intensified.

Rumors about "the Saintess of Ancient Dream was assassinated and died, the food storage in Blackhorn City was also burned, and even the Great Horned Rat God completely abandoned us" has spread to the outermost area of ​​the Great Horn Legion's garrison area like a burning virus third-line troops.

Because of the strong sunlight and high visibility, the soldiers of these third-line troops could clearly see the huge smoke column rising from the direction of Blackhorn City even if they were separated by tens of miles.

And many high-ranking priests and grass-roots commanders whose brain ports have been opened by the ancient dream saint for a long time are particularly sensitive, and the deformed, ugly and disgusting image of the zombie mouse god keeps appearing in front of them.

They unconsciously act as signal relay stations and amplifiers.

Using his own brain waves, he enhanced and magnified the image of the Zombie Rat God, and then projected it to the visual nerves of the soldiers around him.

The last vestiges of morale of the Ratmen soldiers, who had already run out of ammunition and food, collapsed and disappeared in an instant.

Not to mention that many Rat Warriors were originally equipped with fragments of totem armor.

With the collapse of faith and mental breakdown, they can no longer control this killing machine that contains ancient superb technology.

Accompanied by the massive proliferation, mutation, and gushing of liquid metal-like substances in the body.

They have all turned into terrifying, crazy warriors of origin.

Turning every camp of the Horned Rat God into a vortex leading directly to the deepest part of hell.

Looking from a distance, within a hundred miles, the blood flowed like a river and turned into a hell on earth.

A few days ago, the frenzy of the Rat People, who had been attacking Baijian City bravely and fearlessly, had finally exposed the true colors of the mob.

No one believed that they were able to capture Baijian City and Chijin City successively, gain the recognition of the five major clans, and establish the "Big Horn Clan" belonging to all the rat people.

But no one knows what the next strategy will be.

It is to inherit the will of the ancient dream saint, to fight until the last soldier.

It is still a strategic retreat to preserve the vitality.

If it is a retreat, where can we retreat and why should we persist in the situation of being surrounded on all sides and facing enemies everywhere?

In fact, the commanders and priests of many troops, because of their particularly developed brains, have been indoctrinated by the Saintess of Ancient Dreams many times. At this moment, they are also the first to start going crazy, and the most serious.

Ordinary soldiers often just have a splitting headache and see the phantom of the zombie rat god in a trance.

Thanks to their not-so-flexible brains, it was even difficult for them to understand what the rotting zombie rat god, who was in the form of a giant, symbolized.

However, their commanders and priests were already screaming, spewing out colorful flames from the seven orifices, and before the soldiers had time to react, before they poured water and sand on their heads, they burned their heads and brains to death clean and dry.

Only a headless cavity was left, still dancing strangely under the whipping of nerve currents.

The group of dragons has no leader, and they are out of ammunition and food. Even if they still have the strength of nine oxen and two tigers, ordinary rat people soldiers don't know which direction to take their steps and raise their swords.

Just then.

A wolf that is taller and more ferocious than a centaur, with stinky saliva flowing from its mouth, and a thorny armor on its body.

And behind them, the wolf cavalry who were also armed to the teeth, leaving no gaps around them.

There is also a battle knife inlaid with wolf teeth, which looks like a hacksaw.

From the jungle on the edge of the battlefield, appeared like a ghost.

No, they were not rushing to attack.

For one thing, the Great Horn Legion at this moment is like a whirlpool in a swamp. If they charge rashly, they may sink deep into the mud, and be buried with these mentally broken and maddened lunatics.

Secondly, there are still a small number of troops, including the elite of the White Bone Battalion, who have not yet completely collapsed.

If the wolf cavalry puts too much pressure on them, it may stimulate the Bighorn Legion to restore order and regroup under the threat of death.

Therefore, the wolf cavalry just cruised around the edge of the Bighorn Legion's garrison area, and with half sarcasm, half cold eyes, lightly looked at these messy dead bones in the tomb.

Of course, they will not wait in vain and waste time.

In the jungle behind the wolf cavalry, hundreds of smoke curled up.

The scent of cooking and roasting datura fruits in the smoke, like invisible pythons, entered the camps of the Bighorn Army from all directions, tightly entwining the stomachs and souls of all the hungry soldiers.

Behind him is a bloody killing field.

Ahead is mouth-watering, stomach twitching, soul-torturing food.

The spiritual defenses of many Rat Warriors were already riddled with holes and crumbling when they heard that the ancient dream saint was assassinated and the horned rat god abandoned them.

At this moment, the last string deep in the brain was completely broken.

Before rational thinking has made a correct and prudent judgment.

Their central nervous system has already issued instructions to the nerve endings and muscle fibers, their eyes are lost, their arms are opened, and they stumble towards the direction of the cooking smoke and fragrance.

Of course they knew how many wolf cavalry were dormant deep in the dense forest.

But they couldn't endure such a tormented day for even half a moment.

Even on the way to the food, he was beheaded by wolf cavalry.

At least, they died happily under the rich, juicy aroma of Datura fruit.

There is no need to continue to endure the pain of slowly suffocating to death in this world where there is no hope.

To the surprise of these Ratmen warriors, the wolf cavalry did not kill them.

In fact, when they staggered and plunged into the depths of the jungle, the ghostly wolf cavalry disappeared like a fog in the sun.

Only the aroma of datura fruit, which is becoming more and more intense, still fascinates them like a beautiful snake writhing in a bewitching dance.

In the depths of the jungle where everything is silent.

They forgot the chaos and fighting behind them.

Even the lingering zombie mouse god on the retina is gradually replaced by the illusion of pan-fried golden and crispy mandala fruit with a lot of sour cream.

Without knowing it, they stepped into the depths of the jungle.

But the road here is really rough and difficult.

Not only are there all kinds of vines, thorns and shrubs growing wildly at a speed visible to the naked eye, firmly blocking every small intestine path.

There is also some wicked ghost who dug a lot of pits between the thorns and bushes.

The pit is not deep.

There are no rusty sharp knives, poisonous sharp bamboos or other vicious means of killing people's lives.

But clearing the thorns and bushes and constantly falling and climbing out of the pits still drained the last bit of strength from the Ratmen fighters.

If there is a mountain of swords and seas of fire ahead, even the Hundred Blades City where all food has been burned.

They have long been sprawled on the ground, as if stuck in the soil with extremely sticky biological glue, and they can't even move a little toe.

But ahead is an increasingly intense aroma.

In addition to frying and boiling datura fruit.

It seems that there are also plump and plump beast flesh, smeared and roasted with dozens of spices, which can awaken the aroma of the animal instinct deepest in the genes of high-level orcs.

These scents pierced the souls of the Ratmen warriors like sharp arrows covered with barbs.

Pull their souls to the depths of the jungle.

When they used their hands and feet together, rolling and crawling, they finally climbed out of the jungle area densely covered with thorns, bushes and series of pits.

One's own formation has long been torn to pieces, disintegrating into an army.

I don't know in which pit the sword that I have been holding tightly in my hand has been thrown into.

The front suddenly opened up, and there were patches of glades in the forest.

The glare of the sun outlined the pattern of wolf paws on the blood-stained battle flag.

Dozens of large pots were lined up, and a large amount of food was fried and boiled in them.

A lot of fat, tender, soft, trembling, crystal clear, crispy and boneless food.

These foods emit aromas visible to the naked eye like a volcanic eruption.

The fragrance turned into a pneumatic hammer, hitting the faces of all the lucky ones who broke through the jungle fiercely.

The impact made them spin around, staring at their eyes, their horizons kept shrinking, and their sights were firmly focused on the tumbling thick soup and the Datura fruit that almost melted into the soup.

It was impossible to see that behind and on both sides of the cauldron stood a large number of fully armed and murderous wolf cavalry!