Link's gaze instantly sharpened. He gripped the greatsword in his hand tightly and, without hesitation, swung it horizontally, the sword wind howling, unstoppable.
This strike deeply cut into the Ice Plains Wolf's body, reaching its bone marrow.
Warm and viscous blood sprayed out like a fountain, splattering onto his ink-black armor, staining it with a shocking bloom of crimson.
Ha, fighting this ferocious pack of wolves actually brought a different kind of exhilarating satisfaction!
Link held his sword across his chest, letting the thick, hot blood drip down the blade, splashing into eerie blood flowers on the ground.
At this moment, his pupils were filled with the snow-white silhouettes of the Icefield Wolves. He suddenly turned, re-entering the battle, his greatsword swinging like the wind, each slash carrying endless killing intent.
Once this slaughter began, it was like a breaching flood, impossible to stop... The night was as dark as ink, pressing heavily over the Beast Forest.
The howling cold wind, like invisible blades, swept up fallen leaves, weaving wantonly through the forest.
Three giant white wolf shadows encircled the red figure in the middle, and as they moved, a hint of fear subtly emerged in their beastly eyes.
Their heavy panting echoed in the silent night sky, and the faint white mist exhaled from their mouths and noses lingered in the cold air, like ghostly veils.
In the flickering shadows, the surrounding night seemed like a curtain torn open by a demon, countless crimson eyes floating and flickering in the darkness, like specks of ghostly fire.
More and more Icefield Wolves surged from all directions, encircling the forest tightly.
Agnes stood tall and unmoving, like an unshakeable mountain.
Her gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, scanning back and forth over the three giant Icefield Wolves less than a hundred meters in front of her, especially the largest Ice Plains Wolf, which was the focus of her attention.
That was the Wolf King.
Its tall body was astonishingly strong; just standing there, it exuded immense pressure.
Its snow-white fur seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, as if it were clad in a mysterious battle armor. With a light swipe of its sharp wolf claws, it easily tore cracks in the ground, as if showcasing its invincible power to Agnes.
What is the difference between a hunter and prey?
The answer is fear!
Fear is the measure that distinguishes these two identities.
And in the Wolf King's eyes, fear had already appeared!
"I smell the scent of fear on you!"
Agnes's lips curved upward into a mocking smile, her voice as cold as an ice blade.
She casually swung the black battle-axe in her hand; the axe handle was already soaked with crimson blood, like a blood-red ribbon.
But strangely, facing such arrogant Agnes, none of the Icefield Wolves dared to launch an attack, as if their steps were bound by an invisible force.
"Then, all of you, die!"
Agnes's eyes were as fierce as a lion's, flickering with endless killing intent, her gaze domineering and disdainful, as if she wanted to trample everything in the world under her feet.
In an instant, dense crimson flames erupted from her body like a mountain flood, like an angry fire dragon, instantly filling and coloring this dark world.
Immediately after, this surging flame swept out like a hurricane, affecting the three Icefield Wolves that couldn't escape in time, as well as the ever-growing pack of Icefield Wolves.
Everything was mercilessly engulfed in this fiery red halo, as if thrown into the crucible of purgatory.
"Awooo—Awooo—"
The mournful howls of wolves rose and fell on the battlefield, echoing and intertwining, like a desperate elegy.
Link, who was fighting a bloody battle, had just slain another Ice Plains Wolf. He waved the blood-stained greatsword in his hand, turned his head, and looked in the direction where Agnes had disappeared.
It seems the battle is over.
As expected of the crimson haired demon god Agnes!
A smile flickered in Link's eyes. He shook his somewhat sore right hand and stretched his muscles.
At this moment, he had also noticed that the Icefield Wolves' offensive had stopped. The Icefield Wolves, which had been incredibly fierce just now, were now seemingly enveloped by an invisible fear, all shrinking back.
In the crimson eyes of the Icefield Wolves, fear surged like a tide, and whimpers rose and fell in the forest, like a sorrowful elegy.
Many Icefield Wolves began to slowly retreat, their steps faltering.
The death of the Wolf King was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the surging hunger in their hearts, waking them from their frenzied attack, and making them realize that they faced an unbeatable enemy.
Without Link needing to give orders, the Greck Cavalry, as elite troops, could no longer contain their inner passion.
They rode out of the city like arrows from a bowstring, pursuing the fleeing enemy.
In the fierce fighting, they had already become familiar with the Icefield Wolves' movements, seizing every attack opportunity perfectly.
The furious offensive struck like a sudden downpour. Sharp spears swung like the wind in their hands, each thrust carrying a determination to kill.
Countless crimson, viscous blood flew wantonly in the air, like blooming blood flowers; broken limbs and shattered corpses fell to the ground like raindrops, making dull thuds.
Link's nostrils twitched slightly; a pungent, foul smell pierced his nasal cavity, stimulating his olfactory nerves.
He looked down and saw that, at some point, his dark armor was already soaked with viscous crimson blood, and even solidified fragments of internal organs were embedded in it, emitting a nauseating odor.
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