In the depths of winter, the weather is cloudy.

The murky night sky fell on the pale yellow earth.

A cold wind with frost blows across the vast and desolate plains, rolling up the dust of the remnants of the leaves, and it is desolate.

At the edge of the plain, in the dim moonlight, the lizardmen warriors who jumped out of the dense forest sea could be faintly seen, densely packed, like ants pouring into the territory of the Stoke Kingdom.

Although the plague that pervades the territory of the kingdom of Besilik is contained, time passes quietly.

Winter has swept across the kingdom, and the devastated lizardfolk are in dire need of supplies to supply their tribe for the winter, otherwise the cold environment will once again cause serious population losses.

The wave of lizardmen split in two before reaching the ruined Forsbello Fortress in Kuroki Province, with the majority of the warriors heading to Morishige Province and the few remaining warriors heading to Silverpine Province.

It's not that he underestimates the power of the Silver Pine Province, but the strength of Valoran's leadership has to be treated with caution by the Lizardman Temple behind it.

The missing temple priest crown, and the rumored god fall**, who does not know whether it is true or not, are the best proof of this.

Based on the information gathered with great difficulty in recent days, the Lizardman Temple learned that the Valoran Territory possessed extraordinary military power, so the Lizardmen warriors who went to Silverpine Province were mostly elite, and they were not responsible for looting, but for preventing the Valoran Territory from advancing westward as much as possible.

Silence enveloped the lizardmen, and heavy wheezing and noisy footsteps weaved together the melody of war.

North, the shaman of the Cockel tribe, leads this elite army of lizardmen, and is the most elite force that the Cocker tribe can bring.

In the plague plague that has just passed, the Kokel tribe can be said to have suffered heavy losses, falling directly from the top tribe of the Beshilik Kingdom, almost clumping, and even the opportunity for North to become a temple priest was completely lost, and he became a shaman priest of the tribe for life.

The night was bleak in the northlands, and the lizardmen legions marched through the desolate plains, gradually groping their way to the edge of the province of Silver Pines.

In the center of the array, North faced the cold wind and looked at the quiet plain in the hazy night, his old face unusually solemn.

With a slight movement of light, a light shining on his side, he pulled out an ancient scroll from his bosom and carefully read the information he had gathered about Valoran's Territory.

This is information gathered by the Cocker tribe through their own channels, in addition to the Lizardmen Temple, including the rout of the previous vassal race of the Gnolls.

For some reason, North always felt that there was an inexplicable emotion in his heart, and he couldn't tell what it was, was it brought by Valoran?

"Pass my orders, find a place to set up camp, and in addition, arrange camouflage scouts to reconnoiter the front."

"Yes, Priestess." The lizardmen guards behind him left in two teams, their strong feet trampling the grass and splashing a little dirt.

Seeing the lizardmen team leave, North breathed a sigh of relief and continued to look at the contents of the scroll, hoping to find some useful information, but he had already flipped through it several times, but still couldn't find the key information.

Browse to the end of the scroll, which records the strength of the Valoran Lord Modrian, the peak of the knight (doubtful here), and the path of the war knight, and the aura he holds is suspected to be related to blood.

"Blood..... Blood.... Blood ....." North's eyes shone with a strange light, and a different thought welled up in his heart, and then he flipped up and saw something similar, many followers of Modrian.

"Oracle, blood!"

The grim color flashed on the old man's face, and North made up his mind to make the plague caused by the Corkel tribe and the disappearance of the temple priests**, which had already put the tribe in trouble.

From this dispatch of all the elite forces of the tribe, I know a thing or two.

The former allies are no longer reliable, and there are now too many tribes in the kingdom of Besilik who covet this rich land.

Only divine grace can redeem the Cocker tribe.

North put away the scroll with a cold expression: "Survival and inheritance are the most important things for the Cockel clan right now. He looked at the lizardman camouflage scouts leaving the array in the night, and his heart became more and more determined.

Camouflage Scouts, an extremely elite class of the Cocker tribe, are good at using their own skin to camouflage attacks in different environments, making them the best choice for Scouts.

Through the hazy night and dim moonlight, the camouflage scouts who left the group escaped into the desolate plains, and their skin changed strangely as they moved, but in a few steps, they completely blended into the plain environment without a trace.

A bitter cold wind swept across the vast plains, and the night was deep, and a dull darkness swept through.

As they went deeper, the lizardmen camouflage scouts became more and more cautious, and arranged a different number of reconnaissance teams according to different areas, in order to complete the mission as soon as possible.

In previous reports from the lizardmen, they knew that there was a terrifying scout team on the edge of Silverpine Province, harvesting the lives of many ordinary lizardmen scouts, leaving behind bloody lessons.

The clouds fluttered, the crescent moon that obscured the sky, the already dim moonlight, fell into darkness, and the camouflage scout's skin was slightly adjusted.

This adaptation required a brief exposure of the figure to complete the change, but in a moment, the camouflage scout in the scouting state disappeared into the plains again.

It's a pity that the short-term changes can't escape the attention of those who care.

This is especially true of the war zone where blood has been shed.

Phew! Phew! Phew! Phew!

The faint sound of blowing arrows sounded quietly in the dark night, and then a cold light crossed the distance of space, piercing through the camouflage scout's standard chain mail and submerging into the strong body.

The offensive is non-stop.

The scouts of the exposed main ship quickly put away their blow arrows, drew the sharp daggers at their waists, and bullied them forward, directly attacking the vital parts of the lizardmen in front of them.

Sonorous!

The blades collide and the sparks jump.

Surprisingly, these lizardmen camouflage scouts did not immediately lose their combat effectiveness, and the scale armor of their bodies gave them a glimmer of life, and a fierce look appeared in their eyes, wanting to fight back.

But they underestimate the combat capabilities of the main ship scouts, the Bander City Ace Special Forces.

and the weird and deadly thallium poison of the Pyroxa.

The pace of jumping did not stop, and the scouts of the main ship chose to continue the offensive, daggers dancing, and dexterous figures intertwined around the camouflage scouts, like a death show.

Poof! Poof! Poof!

Torrents of green blood splattered across the desolate meadows, and a dagger pierced the scales, taking the camouflage scout's life.

Not only here, but also near the edge of the province of Silver Pines.

The confrontation between the main ship scout team and the camouflage scouts was constantly staged, silent and fierce.

In the dark night, the breath of life disappears with the wind all the time, decorating this battle under the cold winter with a touch of pathos.