King-Chapter 1387 - 267, Grassland Hunt_3

In the distance, a group of Orc Emperors and Kings took one last lingering glance at the black smoke rising into the sky before turning away and leaving this heartbroken land.

Their intuition told them that, from this moment onwards, it would be nearly impossible to let their horses drink from Snow Moon Lake again.

But there was no way around it—the successive defeats had already pushed the Orc Empire to the verge of collapse.

At this moment, the military balance between both sides had completely shifted. If they stayed here and continued to fight to the death, it could very well lead to the annihilation of their entire species.

If they didn’t seize this moment—while the defenders were busy cleaning up the aftermath—to retreat, then once the enemy reacted, escaping would be far from simple!

After a long and desperate sprint, all the tribes tacitly decided to split up and act independently.

In the Orc Empire, when losses were catastrophic, allies often became the greatest potential threats. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Solidarity didn’t exist; they were inherently devoid of such traits.

With no supplies left, the way home was destined to be soaked in blood and riddled with slaughter!

What lay ahead was survival of the fittest—either kill others, or be consumed as prey.

The law of the jungle had always been merciless on the grasslands.

...

"What? A massive outbreak of typhoid patients in the city?"

Hudson asked grimly, his face darkened.

Under normal circumstances, such reports might genuinely indicate cases of typhoid fever.

But at this critical juncture, it was hard for Hudson not to suspect more sinister implications.

"After a great disaster, a plague always follows!"

The recent flood had caused untold casualties. Despite Hudson’s timely preventative measures, it was impossible to entirely halt the proliferation of pathogens.

"Yes, Marshal!

Since your order to initiate anti-epidemic measures, we’ve been tracking the number of sick and injured daily. Three days ago, typhoid cases began to emerge.

At first, the numbers were negligible, so no one paid much attention.

But as of last night, the number of typhoid patients suddenly surpassed a thousand, and that’s when we realized something was wrong.

Following anti-epidemic protocols, the command office has ordered all typhoid patients into quarantine for treatment, but new cases are still appearing!"

Duke Zuell explained with a somber expression.

Initially, everyone thought Hudson’s preventive measures were overly cautious, but who could have predicted that, as things had just begun to unfold, an infectious outbreak would already appear.

It’s worth noting that the Near East frontline wasn’t limited to just one stronghold. If typhoid had emerged at Sateks Fortress, it could also show up in other towns.

In fact, while typhoid was cropping up at Sateks Fortress, other towns might face outbreaks of malaria—or even the plague.

For the defending army, regardless of the disease, the outcome was always disastrous.

"Communicate the situation here to all local defending forces, instruct them to enhance their anti-epidemic measures.

Notify the Kingdom Government and have them immediately dispatch Priests and Magic Potioners to provide support.

Additionally, from now on, Sateks Fortress will operate under strict lockdown. Without my military orders, no one is permitted to leave.

All tents housing typhoid patients must be disinfected with quicklime, and all clothing and utensils used by the patients must be boiled in scalding water..."

A series of measures poured out readily from Hudson’s mind. As for how effective they would be, that was left to chance.

At least having emergency measures was better than having none. Even if it wasn’t entirely effective, it would keep people occupied.

During times of great disaster, the worst fear was panic among the people.

Currently, despite the large number of typhoid patients, most were civilians. Soldiers, who were stronger and more resilient, had clearly better immunity.

...

The sudden onset of disease bought the retreating Orc Army precious time, but that didn’t lessen the slaughter unfolding across the grasslands.

At the bottom rung of the grassland’s food chain, the lucky survivors like Glaem moved cautiously across the plains with a starving group of his clansmen.

To avoid running into powerful Combat Races, he deliberately slowed down their march and even adjusted their direction off course.

In truth, this group had no real destination.

Their tribe’s old homeland was clearly no longer an option. Losing such a significant battle meant their forts and territories were irreversibly gone.

Now Glaem could only hope that the other tribes had suffered enough losses not to need as much pastureland, leaving room for his clan to claim a small corner to settle.

"Stop!"

Catching the scent of blood, Glaem immediately called for a halt, but his incompetent allies still managed to alert the enemy.

Earlier, if Leopardmen and Elephantmen had encountered these convenient "prey," their conflict might never have escalated.

Sadly, there were no what-ifs. The battlefield was littered with hundreds of Leopardman and Elephantman corpses, with the two tribes completely consumed by bloodlust.

Upon realizing it was the relatively harmless Piggy Clan before them, the two sides resumed their ferocious internal struggle.

None of them noticed the flash of cold light in Glaem’s eyes as he watched from afar.

Elite soldiers are forged in combat. For the Pigg Clan to rise, there was no avoiding the trials of bloodshed.

After months of training, his troops finally had an opportunity to prove their worth.

In the previous siege battles, their abilities hadn’t been showcased properly because the enemy was simply too strong.

Starting off against peak adversaries made it impossible to demonstrate the "well-trained" nature of Glaem’s battalion.

Now, watching the two opposing sides tear each other apart, a smile slowly crept across Glaem’s lips.

Minute by minute, the Elephantmen began to gain the upper hand and, at the cost of heavy casualties, finally won the fight.

Yet just as they were about to enjoy the spoils of victory, a group of armed Piggy soldiers charged toward them.

The Elephantman Tribe Chief furrowed his brows and angrily ordered, "It seems they’ve gone mad with hunger. A pack of garbage dares to brandish their swords at us!

Elephantman soldiers, get up, pick up your weapons, and slaughter these foolish pigs who dare provoke us!"

Heeding their chief’s call, the exhausted Elephantman soldiers lying on the ground slowly picked up their weapons and stood, waiting for their enemies to approach.

Clearly, none of them regarded the incoming Pigg Army as a serious threat. Their expressions reflected not just anger but also a trace of pity.

Perhaps tonight’s feast would be richer—Piggy meat was far superior to Leopardman flesh.

"Charge!"

With a hint of excitement, Glaem issued the order.

At that moment, the combative instincts of the Golden Pigg Clan, long suppressed, were fully unleashed.

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