Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

The centurion declined curtly, his tone not particularly respectful, but slightly more conciliatory than before.

Regardless, although this noble person was a bit willful, she was, after all, just a child caught up in a power struggle. It would be too harsh to blame her for the attack.

"Don't treat me like a child. I'm a genius! There's no such thing as absolute safety these days. Compared to being dragged out and killed, I'd rather take up arms and go to the battlefield. Do you want to tarnish the dignity of an emperor?"

The blonde girl complained in a pretentious manner, her emerald eyes sparkling with intelligence as she frowned and made her demands.

Hearing this tone of half-coercion and half-intimidation, the centurion casually tossed a dagger to the eloquent young girl.

The little girl stared at the bronze dagger, barely three inches long and practically a toy, in her arms. Her face darkened, and she gritted her teeth, slashing open her left palm and spilling blood. With a wrinkled face, she completed the sacrifice of her vow, finally muttering somewhat dejectedly.

"This thing is blunt and small. Holding it, let alone killing enemies, would be too painful even for me to use to commit suicide..."

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I'm a warrior who dares to fight lions! Get me a weapon, and we'll hold out together until the Seventh Legion arrives!"

The girl raised her head, a sly glint in her eyes. What she didn't say was that the lion she was "fighting" with was still nursing.

"You two, escort His Highness back to his carriage!"

However, the centurion did not take the bait, and gestured to the priest to put the troublesome boy into the carriage and keep an eye on him.

"If the lines break, take her and run into those Celtic barbarians..."

A soft murmur came from behind him. The centurion tightened the straps of his crested helmet, raised his shield, drew his short sword, and, looking at the giant wolf near the mountainside, swung it forward.

More than twenty Roman soldiers, with solemn expressions, moved in small steps, forming a shield wall close together, creating a horizontal iron barrier on the isolated hill.

The blonde girl paused, seemingly understanding something. She stopped making a fuss, obediently climbed into the carriage, and listlessly allowed the accompanying female priest to bandage her wounds.

As shouts of battle, the sounds of arrows piercing flesh, and the cracking of bones echoed from the outside, the little girl huddled in a corner, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, her eyes filled with gloom and confusion.

Mother, do you really want me to die?

puff!

The centurion thrust his shield forward, deflecting the cleaving scimitar. His short sword pierced through the gap and plunged into the belly of a giant wolf, but at the same time, he was struck in the back by a stray arrow and stumbled forward.

Bah! Those Hunnic bastards are truly insidious!

The centurion swung his short sword upwards, gritted his teeth, and severed the arrow. He wiped the blood from his face, surveyed the chaotic battle scene around him, and cursed under his breath.

If they had only been dealing with these giant wolves, they wouldn't have been defeated so quickly.

But to everyone's surprise, this wave of attackers included not only giant wolves, but also a group of cavalrymen who, with their superb horsemanship and by taking advantage of blind spots, were poised to unleash their arrows from the backs and sides of the giant wolves.

The Roman army fared better; their tower shields and leather armor allowed them to withstand the first wave of sudden attacks.

However, the Celts, who had virtually no protection, suffered far more casualties, with nearly a hundred falling to the ground.

Even so, under the charge of hundreds of elite wolf riders, the two already weaker sides were quickly divided and devoured, leaving them with few men. The Roman side, which was the first to bear the brunt, was in dire straits.

Damn it! 20 people is too few. If we had more manpower, even just a hundred, we might not have been so easily overwhelmed!

The centurion, watching his comrades being divided and swept away, being mocked and hunted, was filled with rage and resentment, while he himself was also in grave danger.

puff puff!

At that moment, a speeding chariot leaped down from the high platform, its blades slicing off the heads of the two giant wolves, leaving them bloodied and battered. The centurion, his body swaying, his vision blurring, his face deathly pale from blood loss.

"How many more of you are there?"

Boudica gazed at the horrific battlefield littered with severed limbs, flesh, and organs, dropping the druid-prepared potion, and while fending off the giant wolf's charge, she urgently inquired.

"Including me, there are 5 others who can still breathe..."

"Hold on, my reinforcements will be here soon!"

"Let me give you a piece of advice: don't wait any longer. The Seventh Legion won't come. We've been abandoned."

The centurion took the potion, tilted his head back and poured it down his throat. After a moment of silence, he glanced at the queen who had come to his aid at this crucial moment, and then decided to be frank and offer his advice in a deep voice.

"Perhaps, there is still a chance..."

Boudica looked at the wolf riders who were closing in on both sides and sweeping in again, and murmured to himself.

But even she herself didn't believe those words.

As for joining forces to charge out from above, taking advantage of the terrain, or capturing and killing the enemy leader, they have tried it before.

However, the hundreds of tragic corpses of Celts and Romans before the gentle slope had already taught them, through blood, that this was nothing but wishful thinking.

As long as that fierce god stands in the way of the battlefield, they have no chance of escaping.

They have no chance unless someone can restrain the being on the gentle slope.

But how could that be? They were nothing more than a group of outcasts of fate.

Woohoo!

At the same time, hundreds of wolf riders roared in and began to slaughter the remaining troops on the mountaintop. The Celts and Romans were forced into a corner, clinging to each other with almost no room to move or maneuver. They could only let the waves of arrows kill them or drag them out of the camp and tear them apart.

As the number of figures before them dwindled, the survivors awaiting their fate were filled with despair.

As a group of shamans chanted obscure and strange incantations, an etheric tide formed above their heads, staining the entire sky.

The devastating blow is imminent.

O God who protects the Celts, have mercy on your people! If a miracle can happen, I am willing to pay any price!

Boudica looked at her two pale-faced daughters behind her with sorrow in her eyes.

"boom!"

At this critical moment, a red and black streak of light, like a meteorite, plummeted from the sky and crashed heavily into the densely packed wolf riders, tearing up pieces of severed limbs.

"Roar!"

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, a colossal dragon with scales ablaze with crimson flames appeared, its serpentine pupils opening and closing as it coldly surveyed its surroundings.

Chapter Sixteen: In the Name of the Gray Wolf and White Deer (1/4)

"Roar!"

The monstrous creature, engulfed in crimson and black flames, roared with its neck raised. The tyrannical and majestic dragon's roar reverberated and echoed all around. The terrifying dragon's might swept and swept over the creatures, causing the giant wolves to tremble in fear, like domestic dogs encountering their natural enemy. They howled and tucked their tails between their legs, retreating in terror.

"Woo!"

Suddenly, the white wolf lying on the hilltop abruptly stood up, flashing like lightning, and smashed several gray-blue giant wolves that were trying to turn and flee. Then it let out a high-pitched and chilling wolf howl, and invisible ripples spread out, rivaling the dragon's might.

In an instant, the fur of the hundreds of bluish-gray giant wolves surrounding Lonely Mountain bristled, their pupils filled with blood-red. The hundreds of wolf riders were of one unified aura, their ferocity blazing. They regrouped, passing over corpses and pits, and surged towards the mountain peak like a tidal wave.

Whoosh whoosh!

As they drew closer, the Hun knights, bows drawn and arrows nocked, fired at the dragon's weak points—its eyes, throat, and heart—that blocked their path.

Like a rain of arrows from black locusts, they fell densely, but most of the arrows were burned to ashes by the surrounding flames before they even reached the dragon's body.

Even if a few arrows pierced the outermost protective layer, the dragon simply closed its eyes and lowered its head, shaking them off amidst the clanging of metal.

boom!

At the same time, seeing that the wolf riders were launching a new round of flanking attacks, the dragon's narrowed vertical pupils revealed a chilling glint, and it immediately slapped its claws downwards.

Boom boom boom!

In an instant, the earth shook and pillars of fire spiraled upwards, accompanied by the blasting of soil, instantly turning dozens of wolf riders into charred remains or splattering their brains, leaving the scene a bloody mess.

Upon seeing this, the Xiongnu cavalry instinctively tightened their reins, causing their formation to falter and their offensive to temporarily halt.

"Moo!"

At the same time, a deep deer call came from not far away. The Xiongnu cavalry parted, and a pure white elk surrounded by iridescent light gracefully stepped forward, raised its head and called out, dispelling the sandstorm.

“@￥＃＃＆……”

Hundreds of people around them had their faces painted with distorted patterns and covered with masks of gods outlined in colorful lines. They held ritual implements such as waist bells, bronze mirrors, drums, and drum whips, and frantically twisted their bodies, danced abstract dances, clapped their limbs, and uttered various unintelligible chants and murmurs.

Immediately, a murky response came from the sky, and beams of light of various colors fell on the Lone Mountain Wolf Riders, enveloping them in a halo-like aura.

"The Eternal Heaven has blessed us, the descendants of the Azure Wolf and White Deer, who are invincible!"

Hundreds of wolf riders regrouped, and the arrows fired by the giant wolves with a running start pierced the air with a sharp tearing sound, and twisted symbols could be vaguely seen on the tips of the blades.

The faint, slight tingling sensation caused the dragon to immediately flap its wings, stirring up a storm that blew away a multitude of arrows, while red and black dragon flames gathered in its open mouth.

"Oh oh oh oh!"

However, the wolf riders on the other side did not retreat but advanced, their faces contorted with excitement. They opened their mouths and let out a series of howls, put away their longbows, drew their scimitars, and used their superb horsemanship to control the giant wolves. They split to the left and right, each raising their gleaming blades and slashing at the dragon's wings, ribs, and feet.

Even if their bodies were stained with red and black flames, their flesh charred and torn apart; even if they were smashed into mincemeat and burned to ashes by the dragon... they did not back down. Like a pack of vicious wolves that were cruel to their enemies but even more cruel to themselves, they desperately tried to leave wounds on their prey and tear off strips of flesh.

In an instant, several scales of the dragon, which had been repeatedly attacked, developed slight cracks, and after this round of slaughter, nearly half of the hundreds of wolf riders were lost.

The problem is that the enemy has already broken through the dragon's defensive line and is flanking from behind without hesitation.

The Celtic population, numbering less than 200, had lost a third of its members, further fueling their panic. The morale that had been so hard to regain after the dragon's appearance also began to decline.

At the same time, a commotion arose as another small force crept up the isolated hill from the rear, wielding scimitars and hurtling toward the magnificent carriage that was being fiercely guarded by only five wounded Roman soldiers.

Under the sharp scimitars and the bites of the giant wolves, the exhausted Roman soldiers were quickly beheaded and torn apart. Even the centurion, after killing a wolf rider, was pierced through the shoulder by an arrow and pinned to the chariot.

puff!

A mentally broken military officer, just as he screamed and poked his head out to escape this terrible inferno, was instantly bitten in the head by a giant wolf that swept past. His headless corpse convulsed and stiffened as it collapsed, blood spurting from its neck and pale yellow urine flowing out uncontrollably.

The two remaining priests, huddled in the cramped carriage, screamed and trembled.

With their eyes closed, they frantically poured magic into the defensive spells, ignoring the depletion of their magical energy. However, the ear-piercing scratching and howling of wolves around them caused their mental defenses to crumble after only a few seconds. Their last barrier crumbled with a cracking sound.

Is Yu really going to die?

The blonde girl, pushed to the front, was pale and terrified. She gripped the bronze dagger tightly, trembling as she held it to her throat, repeatedly trying to slit her own artery for a dramatic end.

However, as she caught a glimpse of the obvious rust and nicks on the blade, she swallowed hard, her momentum waning.

boom!

Just as the little girl was hesitating, the wooden partition between the carriages was violently smashed open. Amidst the flying wood chips, a ferocious wolf's head, with bloodstains at the corner of its mouth, reached inside and viciously pounced, the stench of blood rapidly approaching.

“?…<……?…”

At the critical moment, three intermittent chants reverberated, and runes representing the three powers of "Guardian Triangle," "Flame," and "Fate" flashed and exploded in mid-air, sweeping in all directions.

Instantly, the strange feeling of restraint dissipated, and pillars of fire rose from the position, incinerating nearly a hundred wolf riders who were frozen in place.

The carriage and the Celtic camp, enveloped by the inverted triangular light pattern, felt no temperature from the outside and escaped disaster once again.

The majestic light that surrounded the dragon soared into the sky, forming an invincible thunderstorm that darkened the sky, as if a god were enraged.

Looking at the whimpering, growling, and uneasy-looking gray wolves and white deer, as well as the heavily damaged vanguard, the Xiongnu people's expressions changed drastically, and fear filled their hearts. They couldn't help but turn their gaze to the king who sat on the low hill, holding his sword.

Attila slowly rose, gazing indifferently ahead. She raised her hand and pulled out the seven-colored greatsword that was stuck into the rocky ground. As magic was injected, the star-shaped light patterns on the sword converged and lit up in circles.

"laugh!"

Just then, thunder roared in the sky, and a slender and elegant figure, holding a long spear burning with blue flames, plummeted down, stirring up a fierce ethereal storm along the way, immediately interrupting the Hun king's gathering of power.

boom!

Attila's gaze sharpened, and she immediately raised her sword and slashed upwards, a seven-colored arc of light striking diagonally upwards.

Under the intense spatial distortion, the halo of the explosion splashed out in all directions, forming dazzling colors. Attila below swayed and took several steps back, but the Valkyrie holding the gun groaned and flew backward, blood spilling from her mouth.

The difference in strength is obvious at a glance.

However, just as the light green-haired Valkyrie was about to fall to the ground, the dragon's body surged with light patterns, its size shrank dramatically, and it transformed into human form, catching the swaying, falling figure in time.

The man who appeared in mid-air, amidst the surging red and black ethereal storm, had his long hair dancing wildly like snakes. His vertical pupils, exuding a murderous aura, looked down and stared at the Hun king on the desolate plain.

Attila gave the two uninvited guests a deep look, her brow furrowing, before she flipped over and leaped onto the wolf's back, raising her right arm.

In an instant, the remaining thousand or so Xiongnu wolf riders turned their horses around and followed the silver-haired girl, retreating like the tide and gradually disappearing on the horizon.

Chapter Seventeen: Chaos Arises! (2/4)

"Your Majesty, why do you want to withdraw your troops?"

Amidst the sandstorm, an elderly shaman priest, leading a white deer, caught up with Attila, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and asked with a furrowed brow.

The silver-haired girl turned to look at the lonely mountain that had disappeared from sight, remained silent for a moment, and then gave a faint response.

"I can't beat the two of them combined. That man gives me... a dangerous feeling!"

"The kids haven't lost yet! We can hold those two off for you!"