"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
The hobgoblin archers in the trees rained down arrows, the iron shafts piercing the night and accurately embedding themselves in the bodies of the slaver Squad soldiers.
As soon as one infantryman rushed out of his tent, an arrow shot through his throat; he clutched his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers, and he groaned before collapsing into the mud; another cavalryman was about to swing onto his horse when an arrow grazed his cheek and lodged itself in the horse's flank, causing the warhorse to whinny in pain, rear up violently, and throw the cavalryman to the ground.
However, the slaver Squad still contained many elites.
On the north side of the camp, an archer with a face full of stubble had just dodged the volley when he suddenly looked up at the treetops, catching a glimpse of a green-skinned silhouette flashing among the leaves by the moonlight.
"It's greenskins ! In the trees!" he roared, grabbing the horn bow beside him, quickly nocking an arrow, aiming for the densest part of the canopy, and firing.
The arrow *thwacked* into a branch, startling the hobgoblin hiding inside, who almost fell out.
"Why are there greenskins here!! Didn't they say they were gone?"
"Damn it! These green mushroom bastards! Shoot them dead!"
"We shouldn't have trusted those dwarves!"
The surrounding soldiers instantly reacted, and a dozen elite archers raised their bows and retaliated.
Arrows flew toward the large trees with a whistling sound; some pierced the leaves, and some grazed the hobgoblins' ears, frightening the hobgoblins into quickly drawing their bodies inward.
But the hobgoblins held the advantage of high ground, sitting on the branches and firing down; their arrows could easily target all parts of the camp, while human archers had difficulty shooting upwards, and their accuracy was severely diminished.
"Shoot down! Don't let them look up!" Wreelx crouched on the tree fork, dodging arrows while shouting.
He personally nocked an arrow, aimed at a human archer who was raising his bow, and the arrow shot out with a *whoosh*, piercing the opponent's wrist precisely.
The man screamed, his horn bow falling to the ground, the blood from his wrist instantly staining his sleeve red.
The hobgoblin archers were cheering, but only Wreelx knew he had clearly been aiming for the head.
The other hobgoblin archers also adjusted their angles, specifically targeting the arms and torsos of the human archers; even if the shots weren't fatal, they would render them incapable of fighting back.
Even more cunningly, several hobgoblins secretly aimed their arrows at the horses in the center of the camp.
"Shoot the horses! Drive them mad!" a hobgoblin shouted shrilly, an arrow shaft accurately lodging itself in a horse's rear.
"Warboss God associated with direct fighting protect us! Hahahahaha!"
"Then Warboss God associated with trickery protect me! Hahaha! Shoot these small fries dead!"
The warhorses instantly lost control, rearing up and whinnying wildly, breaking free of their reins and scattering throughout the camp, knocking over bonfires and kicking down tents; the already chaotic camp completely devolved into a mess.
Some horses even charged toward the human soldiers, their hooves thudding on the muddy ground, forcing the soldiers to scatter and instantly throwing their formation into disarray.
"Charge! Break open the prisoner carts!"
Kurzadh wielded his iron axe, leading more than fifty hobgoblin spearmen as they charged into the camp from the west.
The hobgoblins howled, swinging the stone spear and iron axes in their hands toward the human soldiers.
One hobgoblin spearmen rushed first toward a patrolling soldier, his spear tip aimed straight at the opponent's chest, but the soldier blocked it with his long spear and countered with a kick to the hobgoblin's stomach, sending him tumbling into the mud.
Another hobgoblin seized the opportunity to rush in from the side, hacking at the soldier's leg with a axe; the soldier cried out and fell to his knees, instantly being stabbed to death by the spears of the other hobgoblins.
But the slaver Squad spearmen quickly stabilized their position.
Over twenty elite spearmen quickly gathered, forming a dense defensive line with their long spears, the tips pointing outward like a hedge of steel thorns.
The hobgoblins charged, their crude spears clanging against the opponents' long spears with a sharp sound; not only did they fail to breach the line, but they were instead impaled by the opponents' spears.
A hobgoblin had just raised his iron axe when he was simultaneously pierced by three long spears; his body hung on the spear tips like a rag doll, blood streaming down the shafts, dripping into the mud and spreading a dark red stain.
"Damn it! These humans are quite capable fighters!" Kurzadh looked at the hobgoblins falling around him, a hint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes.
He swung his axe at a soldier's long spear; the axe blade collided with the shaft, sending Mars flying.
The soldier seized the chance to knee Kurzadh in the stomach; Kurzadh endured the pain and countered with a backhanded axe swing to the opponent's shoulder; the opponent screamed, and his long spear fell to the ground.
But before Kurzadh could deliver the killing blow, another soldier's long spear thrust toward him; Kurzadh could only dodge backward clumsily, his shoulder sliced open by the spear tip, the blood instantly staining his beast-hide armor red.
Both sides were locked in a brutal war of attrition.
The hobgoblins charged forward relying on sheer ferocity, while the human soldiers held the line tightly, relying on superior equipment and discipline; every step forward cost several hobgoblins their lives.
The muddy ground was littered with bodies, both hobgoblin and human; blood mixed with mud and water, turning into a dark red paste that squelched disgustingly when stepped on.
"Quick! Support the boss!"
On the high ground southeast, seeing Kurzadh being blocked, Dragu immediately roared and led his archers to adjust their direction.
Thirty arrows simultaneously flew toward the human spearmen's line; although most were blocked by the soldiers' long spears, a few arrows struck precisely in the gaps of the defense; one soldier was shot in the thigh, screaming as he fell to the ground, instantly swarmed by four hobgoblins who stabbed him wildly with their spears.
A small breach instantly appeared in the line.
"Now is the time!" Kurzadh's eyes lit up; ignoring the wound on his shoulder, he surged forward.
[Using Shaman Magic: "Pain Nullification"]
[For a certain period, pain sensation is nullified, and strength is increased by ten percent.]
It must be known that he was skilled in both magic and martial arts!
He gripped his iron axe with both hands and viciously brought it down upon the soldier in the breach; the soldier frantically tried to block with his long spear, but the force of the axe numbed his arm, and the spear flew out of his grasp.
Kurzadh seized the opportunity to kick the opponent in the chest; as the opponent fell, he swung his axe backhanded, severing the opponent's neck.
The breach was torn open! The hobgoblins surged in like a tide, hacking and stabbing wildly at the human soldiers.
One hobgoblin spearmen used his spear tip to knock off a soldier's helmet, while another hobgoblin chopped at the opponent's head with a axe, splattering blood and brain matter everywhere.
The human defensive line completely collapsed; the soldiers began to retreat, some even turning and running, having lost all their previous elite demeanor.
"All of you stop right there! No retreat!"
An angry roar came from deep within the camp.
Habee rushed out, clutching a short sword and wearing black inner armor; his hair was messy, and his face was contorted in a ferocious expression.
He had been sleeping soundly but was awakened by the sounds of fighting outside; having no time to put on his heavy armor, he grabbed his weapon and charged out.
Seeing the greenskins scrambling around the camp, his eyes widened in disbelief—hadn't they said the greenskins in the Forest of Gloom had been completely cleared out by the dwarves long ago? Where had these greenskins sprung from?
He quickly realized the greenskins' target—eighteen prisoner carts! The orcs locked in chains were frantically slamming against the wooden planks of the carts, their red eyes filled with fury.
"This is bad! They want to release the orcs!" Habee's face instantly turned pale as he roared at the soldiers, "Stop them! Absolutely do not let them get near the carts! If anyone lets the greenskins smash open a cart, I'll skin him alive!"
Startled by Habee's roar, the soldiers turned around and lunged at the hobgoblins rushing toward the prisoner carts.
An even more brutal slaughter began.
One soldier grabbed a hobgoblin's leg, slammed it to the ground, and pierced the hobgoblin's throat with a short sword; another hobgoblin hacked at the soldier's back with a axe; the soldier screamed and fell, instantly being stabbed to death by the spears of the other hobgoblins.
The bodies piled up in the mud; blood flowed downhill, gathering into a small, dark red stream around the prisoner carts.
Kurzadh charged at the very front, already having sustained several wounds—a deep, bone-visible gash on his left arm from a short sword, blood flowing down his arm and staining the axe handle red; his chest had been struck by a long spear, but thankfully the beast-hide armor protected his internal organs, though the pain still made him grit his teeth.
Every time he swung his axe, he had to endure the searing pain of his wounds tearing open, yet he still didn't stop.
Along the way, he had chopped down three soldiers and kicked over two spearmen; his iron axe was covered in blood and shredded flesh, and every strike was accompanied by a soldier's scream.
"WAAAAGH!"
The orcs inside the prisoner carts, seeing Kurzadh charging toward them, suddenly let out an earth-shaking war cry.
These two-meter-tall greenskins , who had been listless due to their captivity, now had their fighting spirit ignited by Kurzadh's ferocity.
They frantically slammed against the wooden planks of the carts, the chains rattling; some orcs were even gnawing at the wood with their teeth, sending splinters flying.
The largest orc, veins bulging on his forehead, slammed violently into the plank; with a *crack*, a gap appeared in the wood.
Meanwhile, the hobgoblin archers in the trees and the archers on the high ground were gradually losing their advantage.
More and more human elite archers appeared; they formed small teams and fired volleys at the large trees and the high ground, the arrows as dense as a dark cloud.
One hobgoblin archers was shot in the chest and fell from the tree, hitting the mud, where he was instantly trampled into a pulp by a soldier; Scarface on the high ground also took an arrow, the shaft embedded in his shoulder, but he still gritted his teeth and directed his archers to counterattack.
"Faster! Or we'll all die here!" Kurzadh looked at the approaching prisoner carts, his mind fixed on only one thought—smash open the carts and release the orcs! Once the orcs were out, these human soldiers wouldn't stand a chance; if they delayed any longer, and the humans stabilized their position, the hobgoblins would eventually be annihilated.
He suddenly raised his iron axe and viciously brought it down on a soldier blocking his path.
The soldier blocked with his short sword; with a *clang*, the short sword was sliced in two, and the axe blade continued its descent onto the soldier's shoulder, hacking off his arm.
The soldier screamed and fell to the ground; Kurzadh stepped over his body, finally reaching the first prisoner cart.
The orcs inside the cart saw him and roared even more fiercely, all stretching out their hands, trying to grab his arm.
Kurzadh looked at the cart's lock—it was a heavy iron padlock, firmly securing the wooden planks.
He took a deep breath, raised his blood-soaked iron axe, and brought it down hard on the padlock!