Nite finally swallowed the last trace of light on Giant Bear Ridge with an indisputable, sovereign posture.
The blood-colored setting sun, like a dying giant who had shed his last drop of blood, slowly sank below the boundless white horizon formed by the jagged mountains after letting out an unwilling, silent sigh.
In its place was a cold crescent moon that emitted a ghastly white radiance, like the eye of the God of Death.
Moonlight, like the meager mercy bestowed by the stingiest of kings, fell sparsely upon this vast grassland that had just undergone a tragic, purgatory-like slaughter. It reflected the congealed, dark-red pools of blood with an eerie luster like black agate; it outlined the hideous silhouettes of the mountain-like carcasses of giant beasts, filled with the aura of death.
However, on this "asura field" that would be enough to scare any coward out of their wits, a wild and scorching aura of life was rising, completely out of place with the deathly still and cold environment!
Dozens of massive bonfires, like giant golden flowers suddenly blooming in the dark nite, burned fiercely, illuminating the entire temporary camp as if it were day!
The bone-chilling wind, cold enough to freeze steel until it became brittle, had to let out an unwilling wail and retreat in disarray when it encountered the scorching heatwave formed by the flames.
The warriors—those exhausted soldiers who had just survived the cruel baptism of blood and fire—were now sitting around the bonfires. Their faces no longer bore any trace of fatigue or fear; there was only the survivors' ecstasy, a mixture of world-weariness and fortitude settled after experiencing the test of life and death!
"Come! For the leader! For Blackwood Fortress! Finish this meat!"
A young Werewolf Warriors, still looking somewhat childish, used a sharpened wooden stick to skewer a piece of sizzling, golden, oily deer leg as big as his head. He roared excitedly at his companions, his face flushed red!
His voice was so hoarse and cracked, as if he wanted to completely vent all the accumulated ecstasy of victory and longing for the future in his chest at this moment!
"Hahaha! You little brat! You almost had your butt pierced by a calf during the day, and now you have the strength to howl here!"
A fierce veteran unceremoniously tore a large piece of the fattest, most tender deer meat from the young warrior's stick and stuffed it directly into his bottomless, dark mouth without even looking. He chewed loudly and without grace, while indistinctly and kindly mocking the young "hero" whose face had already turned beet red.
"You... you're talking nonsense! I was... I was just scratching its itch!"
The young warrior retorted, refusing to be outdone, and then followed the veteran's example by taking a huge bite out of the massive deer leg!
The scalding, wild meat juices instantly exploded in his mouth! It was a pure, primitive, and peerless delicacy filled with vitality!
The taste was so overbearing and full of temptation that he instantly forgot all his excuses and shyness. In his eyes, only the most primitive desire for food and the gratitude for survival remained!
The entire camp was immersed in a jubilant atmosphere full of ruggedness, unrestraint, and the most sincere camaraderie between men.
The warriors talked and laughed loudly, boasting and sharing their thrilling, dangerous, and exciting achievements from the day.
Some were animatedly describing how they had used a small lasso to trip a mountain-like, rampaging Giant-Horned Ox; others were gesturing wildly, mimicking how they and their equally young, wild Snow Giant Wolf partners had conducted their first awkward and clumsy, yet incredibly dangerous, coordinated operation.
Their voices were so noisy and full of vitality that even the unceasing, ghost-like howling of the cold wind seemed insignificant amidst their life-filled, earth-shaking laughter and curses.
On the other side of the camp, in the exclusive area for the "heroes," the Snow Giant Wolves displayed a satisfied and lazy posture, starkly different from their tall, powerful, and fierce appearance.
They were no longer as vigilant and aggressive as they had been during the day, simply lying quietly beside the massive, steaming carcasses of Giant-Horned Oxen that the warriors had specially dragged over for them. With their sharp fangs, capable of tearing thru anything, they devoured large mouthfuls of fresh raw meat that still held a trace of warmth and elasticity!
They ate with such focus and devotion that even their beautiful, crystal-clear eyes narrowed slightly into happy, curved lines due to excessive satisfaction. From their throats, low, thunder-like whimpers of contentment came from time to time.
That sound was their most primitive and direct way of announcing their victory to this frozen world!
Barton, the tower-like Boarman Legion commander, was currently being held high above the heads of a grolled with resentment and the flames of revenge had already completely locked onto them.