“…… The Shadow Mists awakened the dead corpses, who joined the Legion of the Undead and now fought for me. ”

Icares said plainly, but it was not difficult to find that when he said this, there was a pride in his bones.

Presumably, with the exception of the army of the undead, the armies of the world are all rabble.

Ize frowned, the undead's actual combat power was not strong, but the immortal trait was enough to make up for its shortcomings.

If a war is fought into a war of attrition, a tug-of-war, the advantage of the undead will be completely magnified - their numbers will continue to grow, there is no so-called tactics, only complete numerical suppression.

Ize knew in his heart that if there was a war between the Red Dragon Legion and the army of the undead, perhaps the Red Dragon Legion would gain the upper hand in a short time.

But over time, all the advantages will slowly turn into weaknesses, and eventually they will be defeated and become evil undead.

Izer looked down at Icares again, if it wasn't useless to kill him, he really wanted to crush this lich to death at all costs.

The Grand Duke of the Undead really couldn't stand Izawa's gaze, and he sneered: "Red Dragon, do you really think that you are invincible in the plane? Even the true gods couldn't kill me, so if you want to fight, just say it! ”

Izawa looked at him with disdain: "It's not interesting to fight with you, an undead old monster, you have the ability to collect all your life box fragments, and then we will fight again." ”

"The rudimentary agitation method, do you think I'm going to be fooled?"

"Don't be fooled, then you say a hammer."

Izawa turned his head to look at Samoyed: "Pipilong, lead the way, let's go to trouble those savages." ”

The white dragon roared, spreading its huge dragon wings and flying over the Winter Mountains, towards the endless ice fields, the gathering place of the frost giants.

……

"My king, the wind and snow can't stop the spread of the shadow mist, and the snow eagle has seen an undead creature wandering over the Winter Mountains and near the ice field."

A frost giant kneels down towards the throne and reports the latest news from the front.

"What about the Icefield army stationed on the front line?"

The King of the Frost Giants, seated on the Frozen Throne, let out an angry roar, "Are those guys all dead? ”

"Yes, they are all dead, the undead have captured Ice Valley, and the dead corpses have been re-transformed into new undead by necromantic magic, and one of the clansmen used magic to cause an avalanche before dying, only to temporarily resist the advancing pace of the undead army......"

The voice of the frost giant became smaller and smaller, and the momentum in the ice palace was so oppressive that it was impossible to breathe.

No one expected that under the charge of the undead legion, the Frost Legion would be completely defeated and crushed.

Frostbone's big hand grasped the handrail of the Frozen Throne and gradually tightened it, and the coiled meridians resembled vicious snakes with baring teeth.

His heart was filled with unquenchable anger, and he was the king who unified the entire snow field, the king of the frost giants who trampled the white dragons under his feet!

However, now, they can only rely on the various dangerous places, passes, fissures, wind vents, valleys, and cliffs in the snowfield to block the enemy's attack.

But there is no way, the number of snow creatures is inherently much sparser than that of other regions, and compared to the almost endless army of the undead, it is completely at a disadvantage.

He couldn't understand why so many undead suddenly appeared from Kazarin under the Winter Mountains, wasn't that place the territory of the red dragon?

Or was it that during the time he was being trained by the Wrath Lord, the Red Dragon was dead and Kazarin had changed hands?

"My king, the ice field of the Pingchuan River can't stop the attack of the undead, even if it is a glacial rift, those undead who are not afraid of death can fill it with countless bones, and now, the storm cliff is our last line of defense."

Rindong suddenly stood up from the throne, his cold eyes filled with intense murderous intent.

"The Great Wrathful Lord is watching us, and this land of ice and snow is not a place where the skeletons can be free to do whatever they want."

He sneered and looked around, "Gather all your minions and follow me to the Storm Crags and give those damn skeletons a bit of color." ”

The Land of the Priests.

It was the Frost Temple built by Winter Frostbone for the Wrathed Lord Koschage, and several dying and scarred white dragons were forcibly dragged by the Frost Giants, leaving a trail of scarlet blood on the ice.

A mournful whimper came out of the white dragon's teeth, and their eyes no longer saw the arrogance of being a real dragon, leaving only a bleak dead ash.

- This is helpless despair.

The white dragons looked up at the huge idol erected in front of them, a frost giant that looked extremely evil.

His face was contorted, and he held a staff of authority made purely from a skull, and his body exuded an evil aura that could invisibly drive people insanely.

Winter Frostbone knelt reverently in front of the idol, muttering obscure words that symbolized despair, fear, and negative elements.

The aura on his body was gradually matching the fluctuations emanating from the idol, and as a deity personally chosen by the Angry Lord, he could reach the heavens through sacrifices and actively connect with the Koschurch.

The wind and snow became worse invisibly, and it seemed that a mysterious will came silently.

After a while, Winter Frostbone stood up and turned around, looking at the white dragon with a look at livestock, ignoring the curse and resentment in the dead gray eyes of the white dragons, and then he let out a loud shout:

"Kill the dragon, sacrifice!"

Many white dragons trembled slightly, and then lowered their heads as if they were resigned to their fate, closed their vertical pupils and waited quietly for death.

Perhaps, for them, death is a real relief.

It is only hoped that the so-called sacrifice will give them a good time, not torture them to death......

There seemed to be a sad and cold cry in the wind, which was the white dragon soul that had been sacrificed as a sacrifice before.

When they die, their souls cannot go to hell or the abyss, and most of them are offered as a sacrifice to the Wrathful Lord through some channel.

Only remnants remain here, but they cannot leave, only wandering day after day, imprisoned in the altar, experiencing the pain of death over and over again.

Feeling the emotions of their compatriots before they died, the white dragons left tears of despair.

The frost giants under Winter's command were all holding ice spears in their hands, and their eyes were full of excitement.

The hunt for a white dragon is enough to drive any frost giant insane, even though they have presided over this sacrificial ritual many times, and can even be said to be a pistol.

But, this is - a great honor!

The white dragons were placed on the altar one by one, and the sharp ice spears were suddenly thrust down, dragon blood splattered, and the white dragon's terrible wail instantly spread throughout the ice field......