With eyes bloodshot and his mind on edge, the Dirty Claw Chieftain rode his majestic pure white throne wolf, leading his elite clansmen and reinforcements from the Split Claw to the battlefield.
The Chieftain's state was quite abnormal at this moment.
He stared intently at the small group of Transylvanians still resisting on the shattered land ahead, muttering under his breath as if on the verge of madness from the pressure.
Commonly known as rage, exasperation, and a breakdown after hitting a mental barrier.
This can be understood.
Since Military Governor Hurley demanded with righteousness that the Dirty Claw clan be responsible for conquering the Blood Flag Heights, the Chieftain who always prided himself on cunning had already lost nearly 2000 elites in this godforsaken place. Even though his clan had thrived under the Split Claw clan, losing 2000 elites was still a headache-inducing sacrifice.
