Snow pellets hit the face, grating uncomfortably like tiny stones.
Kurzadh squatted behind an old pine tree, watching the distant column of beastmen gradually shrink, the grass stalk in his mouth chewed to mush.
"Boss, are we really not going to beat them up?" Wreelx leaned over, still clutching the iron spear stolen from the Giant Wood tribe, its tip gleaming coldly in the snow. "That Great Horned beast looks pretty fat; if we take him down, we can roast a whole pot of meat!"
Kurzadh glanced at him, annoyed. "Beat them up, my ass! Can you beat that Gor beast? Or can you take on that Great Horned beast one-on-one?"
He spat onto the ground, immediately leaving a dark mark in the snow. "There are over two hundred beastmen, and a dozen Gor beast alone. If our tribe's handful of guys rush in, we won't even be enough for a snack!"
Wreelx sullenly stabbed the iron spear into the snow and fell silent.
The surrounding hobgoblins also hung their heads, their faces full of frustration—greenskins live for fighting and looting, and now watching a group of "prey" walk right past without being able to act was frustrating for anyone.
Kurzadh was also burning with suppressed anger.
He wanted to beat up those beastmen more than anyone, especially that Great Horned beast chewing on a human leg; it just looked like it needed a beating.
But he knew even better: although greenskins could fight, they couldn't fight blindly.
The Blackrock Clan had only just managed to gain some scale—eighty-seven hobgoblins, one hundred sixty-five goblin, fifty-six goats, and seventeen wild chickens. If they clashed head-on with the beastmen, it would essentially be suicide.
"Greenskins need to use their brains, not just brute force," Kurzadh said, patting Wreelx's shoulder. "When we have more people, when we have orc Boyz, when we have guys who can take down a Gor beast, then we'll settle the score with them! Now? Hold it in!"
Although the hobgoblins were reluctant, they knew Kurzadh was right.
greenskins respect strength; whoever can fight calls the shots, not to mention Kurzadh was the "God's herald of Gork and Mork."
Dragu kicked the snowdrift next to him and muttered, "So what do we do now? Just watch them walk south?"
"Follow them," Kurzadh said, standing up and brushing the snow off himself. "Let's see what they are up to. If they go fight the dark-skinned humans down south, we might be able to pick up some scraps."
This struck a chord with the greenskins .
"Picking up scraps" was what greenskins did best.
Wreelx immediately cheered up, shouldering the iron spear. "Boss is right! They fight, we loot!"
Kurzadh nodded, selecting Wreelx, Dragu, and Zaggur, the three most quick-witted hobgoblins. He instructed Scarface to take two hobgoblin Laborers and stay behind to keep watch on the tribe, while he himself led the three hobgoblins, crouching low as they tracked the beastmen column.
Walking in the snow was difficult; they hadn't gone far before their trouser legs were soaked through, leaving their calves numb with cold.
Fortunately, the beastmen column moved slowly. Razor beast and Chaos Warhounds occasionally stopped to chew on some ice and snow, and the Ungor were so cold they huddled together, walking two steps and resting three, which gave Kurzadh and his group the perfect chance to track them.
After about an hour, a canyon appeared ahead.
The canyon wasn't deep; both sides were steep slopes, and the path in the middle was only wide enough for two or three beastmen to walk abreast.
Kurzadh's heart skipped a beat—this place was perfect for an ambush.
He quickly led the hobgoblins to hide in the bushes near the canyon entrance, only poking their heads out to watch.
The column of beastmen was slowly making its way into the canyon.
The leading Great Horned beast was still chewing on the human leg, occasionally raising its head to roar twice, urging the Ungor behind it to hurry up.
Razor beast and Chaos Warhounds walked on both sides of the column, their noses sniffing the snow; their vigilance was quite high.
Just then, a long, drawn-out horn blast suddenly echoed from above the canyon, reverberating through the snow and causing people's hearts to panic.
The Great Horned beast abruptly stopped, and the human leg in its mouth dropped to the ground with a *pat*.
It raised its head, its cloudy yellow eyes fixed on the top of the canyon, and let out a low, gurgling growl from its throat, as if issuing a warning.
"It's dwarves!" Kurzadh's heart stirred, and he quickly looked toward the top of the canyon—sure enough, short, stout figures appeared on the slope. Each wore a bushy, fiery-red beard, sported a round iron helmet, and was clad in shining heavy armor, holding dark tubes aimed downward.
"Dwarves!" The Great Horned beast roared in fury, raising a foreleg and pawing the ground, sending snow flying high. "Prepare for battle! Drag them down and tear them to shreds!"
The beastmen immediately erupted.
The Ungor raised axes and wooden clubs and charged up the canyon slopes, howling. The Gor beast also moved, striding with their thick legs, climbing the slope, their iron armor flashing cold light in the sunlight.
The Razor beast and Chaos Warhounds were even more frantic, leaping directly out of the column, jumping up the crevices of the slope, their mouths puffing white steam, their eyes filled with bloodthirsty malice.
"Fire!" On the slope, a white-bearded dwarf roared, swinging his baton downward.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
A volley of dense gunfire erupted, echoing in the canyon like thunder.
Black smoke poured from the tubes in the dwarves' hands, and lead bullets whizzed downward.
"Waaagh!" The first few Ungor charging forward instantly collapsed, their bodies riddled with bloody holes, lying in the snow and convulsing twice before going still.
The Ungor behind them were hit by lead bullets; some had broken arms, others had crippled legs, and they screamed as they tumbled down the slope.
Kurzadh watched, his eyelids twitching.
These dwarves' weapons were too powerful; they were much faster and much more accurate than bows and arrows.
If the Blackrock Clan encountered a force like this, they would likely be wiped out.
But the beastmen were utterly insane.
Although one wave was repelled, the ones behind still charged upward.
A Gor beast was hit in the shoulder by a lead bullet, punching a hole in its iron armor, yet it acted as if nothing had happened, roaring as it climbed, its claws digging deep marks into the slope. It was about to reach the top.
"Use the axes! Smash them down!" shouted the dwarves on the slope.
The dwarves immediately dropped their firearms, raised the battle axes and Warhammers in their hands, and smashed them down onto the climbing beastmen.
A dwarf struck the Gor beast's head with an axe; although he didn't cleave through the iron armor, he managed to make it stagger.
The Gor beast roared in anger, extending its claws to grab the dwarf's leg. The dwarf was too slow to dodge, was grabbed, fell to the ground, and rolled down the slope.
"Save him!" the dwarves shouted. The dwarves were extremely united; their motto was never giving up or abandoning anyone, and they began throwing stones downward.
Stone blocks fell like rain, causing the beastmen to howl, but they still couldn't stop the momentum of their charge upward.
The canyon descended into chaos.
Gunshots, roars, and screams mixed together, and the snow was littered with blood and corpses.
The Ungor surged upward like a tide; one wave fell, and another immediately charged up. The dwarves defended the slopes, desperately resisting with firearms and axes; occasionally, a dwarf was dragged down by the beastmen, and occasionally, a beastman was repelled or killed.
Kurzadh crouched in the bushes, watching with a pounding heart.
He finally understood why the dwarves could establish city-states on high mountains—these dwarves, though short, were tougher fighters than greenskins , especially with that heavy armor; the claws and teeth of the beastmen couldn't even scratch it.
"Boss, should... should we help the dwarves?" Wreelx whispered.
Watching the dwarves being besieged by the beastmen made him feel itchy—not because he wanted to help the dwarves, but because he wanted to beat up the beastmen in the confusion.
"Help them, my ass!" Kurzadh glared at him. "Let them fight! When they've fought each other to exhaustion, then we'll go out and pick up the scraps!"
The greenskins exchanged glances and grinned.
The boss was Dabright! Once the dwarves and beastmen had nearly finished fighting, they could rush out, beat up the remaining beastmen, and loot the dwarves' firearms and iron armor—it was a win-win situation!
The battle in the canyon continued.
Although the beastmen suffered heavy casualties, they relied on their numbers to press upward step by step. The dwarves' gunfire gradually slowed down, likely because they were running out of bullets, forcing them to fight desperately with axes and Warhammers.
Kurzadh gripped the axe tightly in his hand, his eyes fixed on the commotion in the canyon.
He knew the chance to pick up scraps would arrive soon.