The northwestern part of the Antagriqi continent is a vast wilderness formed by the constant interweaving of desert and wasteland. Because of the arid climate and lack of rain, coupled with the perennial strong winds and dust, the living environment can be said to be quite harsh, and it is really not comparable with the rich and beautiful plains in the center of the continent. With the exception of a few oasis-like areas with abundant water, the rest of the Northwest is mostly barren and inhospitable, and only drought-resistant dwarf needles or dagger shrubs can take root in the sandy soil.

The Beamon and barbarians, who were forced to migrate here after defeat thousands of years ago, now mostly rely on the wilderness to graze stray goats, dromedaries or sand donkeys, which are highly adaptable to the harsh environment. Compared to the high fertility rates of Beamon and the Barbarians, the food produced in the Northwest Wilderness is pitiful. Therefore, every time spring comes, a large number of newborn children will die halfway because of hunger or cold. Even those half-grown children who managed to survive to the age of three or four may not survive the torment of the spring famine, and eventually can only bury their small dry bones in the desert covered with rubble.

In order not to starve to death or to prevent their families from starving, too many Beamon and the Barbarians chose to go into the Hurricane Wasteland to make a living. Become a thief, kill until you are killed. Endlessly, generation after generation. And so on and on. This is the fundamental reason why for a long time, the caravans that marched through the wasteland, no matter how hard they tried, were only met with more and more bands of thieves to loot and loot.

There was a time when becoming a thief and entering the wasteland to rob humans became the aspiration and ideal of almost every child in the Northwest. Whenever the Beamon and the barbarians who had gone out to "work" returned to the village with a cart full of goods, scars, and the corpses of their fellow villagers, it was the liveliest and most celebratory time in the whole village. From the loot captured, the women and children left behind in the village saw for the first time fine porcelain whiter and more delicate than ivory, multicolored silk so soft that it seemed to float in the wind when blowing a breath, and crystal cups that were transparent and reflective of gemstones...... And the bags and bags of shiny gold coins.

It was only a successful raid, and the harvest was enough to spend and eat the whole village for two or three years. Of course, most of the exquisite goods of the human caravans will eventually be bought by those Junker lords or noble Beamon sacrifices in the royal capital, and the price is not very reasonable, but for the poor and half-starved commoners, it is enough to fight for such benefits.

It is a pity that the "feast" of the commoners of the wasteland did not last long. Once again, the Hurricane Wasteland was discovered, and the Krulord higher-ups began to put their hands inside.

After countless games, battles, negotiations, and compromises above and below the table, in the end, the huge benefits of the Hurricane Wasteland were shared by the Temple, the Senate, and the Military Department. On the same day that the agreement was reached, three privateer licenses issued by the Ministry of War, signed by the Senate in red, and endorsed by the temple were sent directly by the authorities, granting them "Wolfgang", "Savage Totem", and "Tailan Wind" respectively. Since then, the thieves of the Hurricane Wasteland have ushered in the terrifying "Age of the Triumvirate". The small bands of thieves who used to be like loose sand and locusts were quickly integrated and co-opted into a semi-free vassal. As for the few diehards who refused to accept orders or adjustments, they were immediately attacked by the combined forces of the Big Three, and even the villages behind them were completely razed to the ground.

Eventually, when the new order of iron and blood was re-established, the entire Hurricane Wasteland trembled and fell under the sword of the Triumvirate. The vast wasteland truly became a bountiful pasture for Cruelrod, and the human caravans were like fat sheep in captivity, which were selected at regular intervals for the owners of the sheepfold to feast on. …,

The climate of the heath in early spring is unusually cold. Although the snow on the ground has begun to melt in large areas, the low temperatures brought by the melting snow are even more bone-chilling and biting.

It's just that little Fletcher no longer has the heart to care about his hands and face that are blue from the cold. Because if he couldn't repel the vicious barbarian thieves in front of him, he and the nearly 100 people of the entire caravan would probably turn into miserable ice corpses in this desolate ice and snow.

"Die! Kill you! Little Fletcher mustered all his strength and stabbed his dagger at an ugly, big-eared barbarian.

"Poof!"

In the face of the sharp short sword forged by humans, the barbarian's rough leather armor was simply unable to resist it, and it was pierced through the chest in an instant. Blood mixed with lung fluid erupted from the wound from which the dagger had withdrawn, and with a scream of pain, it drenched little Fletcher's head and face. But before the young mercenary could wipe the blood off his face, a huge barbed gavel was already pressing down on his head like a mountain. Little Fletcher couldn't dodge it, and desperately raised his sword to parry, but the huge force from the mallet flicked the small short sword away, and then hit the mercenary in the face mercilessly, completely blowing the whole head like a watermelon.

"Little Fletcher!"

Seeing that his partner was killed instantly, the other mercenary next to him immediately yelled and pounced, raised his spear and stabbed at the large orc who killed little Fletcher. It's a pity that because of the excessive force, the mercenary's revenge blow actually grazed the body of the orc and slid over. Before he could retract his spear, another big-eared barbarian from behind him had already rushed forward, stabbed the mercenary in the waist with his short knife, and then viciously stabbed him several times, killing him completely.

"Hold on! You must hold it! Defeat this group of thieves, and the Tulip Chamber of Commerce will reward each with 100 gold coins! ”

Seeing his own escort mercenaries fall under the enemy's blades one by one, dead or wounded, the caravan steward no longer cares about the money, and shouts a sky-high reward, just to be able to withstand the attack of the barbarians and thieves. However, the power of gold coins is not always able to reverse the trapped home. In the constant flow of blood and flesh, the defensive circle of the human caravan is rapidly collapsing. If it weren't for the ferocity of the barbarians and thieves, who also suffered heavy casualties due to their fierce attacks, I am afraid that the caravan would have been unable to sustain itself.

At this moment, two huge wolves silently stepped onto the top of a hill half a kilometer from the battlefield.

"Old Crow, seems almost?" After a moment's pause, a female werewolf wearing a huge horned helmet looked at the battle situation in the distance and suddenly smiled. Qing Yue's voice came out through the nose-covering helmet, slightly dull, but full of youthful excitement and sweetness.

The female werewolf is dressed in a set of bright red close-fitting leather armor, with concave curves, and her wonderful body is enough to detonate the heart of a male animal even if she rides on the back of a wolf. Although it is impossible to see its true face because of the cover of the helmet, the thin peach-colored lips that are only exposed can easily conquer the most discerning eyes.

"Yes, Miss Margaret, the time is right." The old werewolf riding on the other gray wolf narrowed slightly, swept the entire battlefield, and then nodded to the female werewolf.

Unlike Margaret's flamboyant attire, the old werewolf wears an old collar of chain mail and an old-fashioned light helmet. Although both the chain mail and the light helmet were adorned with various patch marks, they were all spotless and neatly shiny, and it was clear that the old werewolf had carefully maintained and wiped his equipment.

"Very good, I order, attack!"

Confirmed by the old werewolf, Margaret immediately waved her arm excitedly, then pointed to her lips and let out a loud whistle. At the same time, the slender legs of the toned and slender legs slammed into the wolf and rushed towards the bottom of the hill first. …,

At the same time, dozens of wolf cavalry armed with sharp scimitars behind the hill suddenly rushed out from both sides, like a flood out of the gate, driving the double blood-red wolves, roaring towards the battlefield five hundred meters away. The earth-shattering wolf howl resounded through the sky for a while, and even suppressed the howling wind roar on the wasteland, and this was the signature military horn of Krurod's wolf ride.

"Ah, it's the wolf cavalry!"

"So many wolf cavalry, what to do?"

"It's those Wolfgang! It's over, we're all done! ”

Looking at the many wolf riders rolling in like a surging tide, a desperate coldness suddenly floated in the hearts of every surviving caravan member. If in the face of the attack of the thieves before, the caravan still held on to the hope of survival and fought to the end, then the appearance of a large number of wolf riders easily extinguished this flame of hope.

"Wolfgang! It turned out to be Wolfgang! The steward of the caravan looked through the gap in the crowd and looked at the wolf cavalry who was rapidly approaching him, trembling all over, and his lips were purple and blue. At this time, he no longer had any desire to resist or cheer up his subordinates.

Legend has it that Wolfgang's wolf cavalry is the most terrifying shadow of death in the Hurricane Wasteland. No caravan on record has managed to escape ascension after being the prey of Wolfgang. Whether it's holding on to the spot, escaping quickly, or even breaking into pieces and breaking through, in the face of the fast, agile, tenacious, and extremely tracking wolf cavalry, even if the entire caravan is made up of rabbits, don't want to escape one.

Of all the terrible cases, the most impressive one was the "Dresden massacre" that took place 25 years ago.

At that time, a large caravan of several hundred people belonging to Dresden, Kingdom of Erathia, was spotted and tracked by wolfriders of Wolfgang while passing through the Guò Wasteland Trade Road. The caravan with its own strength ignored the warnings of the wolf riders to "stop and pay taxes", and instead set a trap and used the crossbowmen to shoot the wolf riders, and skinned Beamon and the wolf as trophies.

But the boundless nightmare of the Dresden caravan also began in earnest from this moment

Thank you for the double evaluation of Tan Yu Kexing, good Yinha; Thanks to the five evaluation votes of the White Cross, Brother Fierce ~~~