Given the prowess of the undead army, if they were to advance towards the Frost Wind Mountains, they would undoubtedly seize it.

Are you certain? If you dare speak even a word of falsehood, I shall end your life right here.

By fixed his gaze on the man and pressed further, I am certain, chief.

I can distinguish between the undead and the orcs forces.

The color drained from the faces of all the trolls.

Their only escape route had vanished.

Their fate was to be fought to the bitter end by the undead, only to be slain and join their ranks.

Is there truly no other way, Chief Bat? One troll inquired.

All eyes turned to Bat.

He glanced at the undead outside but did not respond directly.

Instead, he declared, "Prepare for battle.

" This statement signified everything.

There was no better option than to fight the undead to the last breath.

"Boom! Boom!" The low drum beats echoed once again, leaving no time for further discussion.

The hearts of all the trolls raced as they looked outside to see the drummers seated at top the massive bulls, striking the drums a new.

A faint halo enveloped the surrounding undead.

By felt a sudden heaviness in his heart.

He shouted, "Return to your ranks.

Check your gear and prepare for combat.

" Everyone understood the impending outcome of the battle, but nonetheless returned to their formations, issuing battle commands.

The drum beats resonated, encircling the undead army with a magical aura.

Blackthornne arrived at the central command position, glancing at the distant troll encampment before quietly commanding, "Release the giant bats and ostrich beasts.

The entire army must prepare.

" "Yes!" the messenger swiftly conveyed the orders.

The skeletal giant bats ascended into the sky, cloaked by the night, carrying explosives towards the troll encampment.

Meanwhile, in the front line, the shield wall parted like doors.

Beneath the shields, iron cages opened, releasing the ostrich beasts, each equipped with explosives in their bellies.

The ostrich beasts shook their heads vigorously before flapping their wings and charging towards the troll encampment.

The ground was soon filled with the swiftly running ostrich beasts.

Small in stature, but incredibly fast.

In mere moments, they had reached the vicinity of the encampment.

Chapter 391.

Glass.

The sky was shrouded in a gray haze.

A swarm of skeletal giant bats loomed overhead like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the land.

The trolls raised their heads, observing the mass of giant bats drawing closer.

Those who stood here were seasoned warriors, having fought alongside the undead.

They were well acquainted with the presence of such skeletal bats in battle.

The true peril did not lie in the bats themselves, but rather in the cylindrical bombs they carried.

As the skeletal giants approached swiftly through the air, the trolls exhibited no signs of panic.

With an understanding of the impending assault, they prepared themselves accordingly.

Under the guidance of their commanding officers, they orderly retreated into the dugout shelters, awaiting the sessation of the detonations.

Boom, boom, boom.

The explosives fell, creating craters upon the ground.

The bombardment persisted for 3 to 4 minutes.

Aside from a couple of shelters that collapsed, resulting in casualties, the majority of the trolls emerged and scathed, preserving their lives, Bett stepped out from the defensive enclave, surveying the toll among his comrades.

He bellowed, "Prepare for battle.

We are well acquainted with their tactics.

Our only hope lies in vanquishing these skeletal forms.

" As the conflict raged on, despite being relentlessly pressured by the undead, the trolls had gleaned insights into the enemy s combat methods and the roles of each skeletal unit.

The usage of explosives and arrows by the undead had diminished, indicating a dwindling supply of munitions.

The next phase would involve close combat.

By issued commands with urgency, rallying the trolls to emerge and ready themselves for battle.

Even in death, they would ensure that many of the undead would accompany them to the grave.

At that moment, a panicked voice from a subordinate pierced through.

Chief, they have dispatched a horde of skeletal chickens toward us.

Chickens? By peered outward, witnessing a legion of chicken skeletons charging toward him with astonishing speed.

The bellies of these skeletal fowls were still laden with cylindrical explosives.

Damn it, how is there still such a thing? by s expression shifted, prompting an immediate change of orders.

They are carrying explosives back to the shelters.

In a flurry, the trolls who had just emerged scrambled back into the safety of the dugouts.

The uneven defensive walls offered no resistance against the advance of the ostrich-like creatures.

With a powerful flap of their wings, the skeletal birds easily vaulted over the low barriers, flooding into the camp.

Gazing upon the vacant encampment, they were engulfed in confusion.

Cackling and clucking, they turned their heads, fixating on the darkened entrances.

The dugouts constructed through the combined efforts of the trolls provided a semblance of safety.

Unless a series of explosives landed directly above, it was unlikely that the shelters would be destroyed.

Inside one such dugout, a troll leaned on a spike club, murmuring, "Why have they retreated again? Is the bombardment relentless?" Once again, a spectral creature reminiscent of a chicken bearing explosive devices charged forth.

Chicken.

Indeed, once this skirmish concludes, it shall devolve into a brutal melee.

Everyone must brace themselves in our kind of burrow.

What shall we do if such a creature laden with explosives bursts in? The atmosphere fell into an abrupt silence.

Suddenly, a cacophony of skeletal grinding echoed from the entrance.

In the next moment, a carcass resembling a mere skeleton of a chicken staggered in.

Upon spotting the nearest troll, it lunged forward, pecking violently at the trolls legs.

The troll, in pain, crushed the creature's skull beneath its foot.

As the bones shattered, two cylindrical objects emerged before the trolls, emitting ominous plumes of black smoke.

Fear etched upon their faces.

The trolls realized the impending doom.

Damn it.

Boom! With a resounding blast, one bomb after another detonated within the shelters.

Outside, the trolls might have escaped or evaded the onslaught.

And even if injured, their formidable regenerative abilities would stave off immediate death.

Yet within the confines of the shelters, numerous tunnels collapsed, intombing many alive.

Blackthornne stood at the forefront, gazing from afar at the flaming inferno consuming the troll encampment.

As the explosions began to wne, he calmly declared, "Advance! All troops! Thump! Thump! Thump!" The drums of the undead reverberated, their rhythm shifting from steady to frenetic.

With no mages casting spells and no archers unleashing a volley, the undead army surged forth.

Weapons raised akin to a deluge rushing forward.

The skeletal tide crashed over the defensive walls, penetrating the encampment.

The trolls who survived the explosions sheltered one another, stubbornly resisting.

Yet the sheer number of the undead was overwhelming.

The troll ranks resembled an isolated aisle, engulfed by an encroaching sea.

The waves relentlessly battered the aisle, gradually eroding the already diminished trolls.

By swung his battle ax, cleaving through the skeletons that lunged at him.

Just then, a dull thud reverberated.

By ax was halted by a massive shield.

The force of the impact jolted him, causing him to stagger.

As he leaned back, a spiked mace swung ominously towards him.

By expression shifted, and he raised his ax defensively.

"Thud!" With a heavy sound, Bat was thrust backward by the violent collision, toppling several trolls behind him.