The Sanctuary Army thought the messengers were exaggerating, as there were no opposition forces in the Empire that could compete with them. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info however, when the Templars, monks, and mages entered the jungle without hurry, they were really startled.

A smell of blood, worse than the slaughterhouse, came to my nose.

It was surrounded by muffled chants, animal crawls, and the crying, moaning, and screaming of babies like countless flies.

The leading mage frowned and raised his staff.

As the horse went deeper, the light grew dimmer, but he noticed that there were countless mounds of earth moving on the ground.

As the horse's hooves stepped into the heart of the jungle, the acolyte shuddered. The scene was bloodier than the slaughterhouse—in the shady clearing, between the roots of the trees, densely covered with minced flesh and broken human bones.

Yes, minced flesh - even intact bodies are rare.

The ground was covered with stumbling faceless clay figures, tearing whole pieces of flesh with their hands, and these pieces of flesh, whether they were human or horse, were stretched like strips of cloth, clinging red muscles, white tendons, and hairy human skin, and their armor was peeled away like nut shells.

The clay figure opened its mouth - from the earthy-yellow, irregular head, a black hole was revealed, and the bite was aimed at the strips of flesh, and the toothless mouth had a surprisingly large bite force, breaking the strips of meat into three pieces at once, and there were also flesh droplets splashing out.

There was a tearing and biting sound, red muscle, white fat, dark red organ fragments, and yellow-brown excrement flowing everywhere.

Under the hooves of the Sanctuary Army, a layer of soft, slippery and sticky things was laid out, as if stepping on a smooth mud flat, and the acolytes had to stop riding and tighten the reins carefully to prevent the horses from slipping and slipping.

They resisted vomiting, silently chanted the blessing of the true god, raised their staffs, and finally entered the wooded hinterland.

The survivors were dozens of meters away from the Sanctuary Army, divided into several groups, gathered tightly together, hiding among the narrow trees, their expressions frightened, their faces as pale as paper, like a group of statues with exaggerated expressions.

There were several fallen bushes around them, apparently pushed down to avoid the attack of the clay figurines.

The rat-like sounds around make people's scalps tingle. The clay figurines are densely packed around the survivors, looking like a low mud wall. They scrambled to climb onto their horses' legs, and from time to time there were heart-rending wails from the ranks, and the knights swore to surround the leader in the middle.

The moment they saw the Sacred Territory Army, their firm faith finally collapsed, and they raised their arms and danced wildly, shouting, "Help us, save us!"

The acolyte immediately began chanting the incantation, and in an instant, the flames of the Holy Fire Spell fell to the ground like a meteor shower, falling on the clay man's head. The tongue of fire lit up the surroundings, running higher and higher along the dead man's grease, and the smell of burnt roasted meat emanated all around.

As the flames rose, the sight turned orange-red, the ground became shiny, and the criss-crossed pieces of meat and grease were more vivid in the firelight, just like the legendary underworld.

Attracted by the firelight, the clay figures began to stagger away from their nearby prey and staggered towards their attackers. They were numerous and densely packed, and they were not afraid of the scorching flames, pushing each other into the open flames.

The monk saw the clay figure approaching, the chant became louder and louder, and the fireballs released by the staff became denser and denser, and the dwarf monsters rushing in front of him were all enveloped in the sea of fire in an instant.

The heads and faces of these clay figurines can be clearly seen, crowded with bright tongues of fire, like ghosts crawling out of the underworld. They didn't struggle, they still made a clattering sound, swaying towards the Sanctuary Army.

The formation sent shudders down the ranks as they looked at the half-burned, stenching, meat-smelling crumbs on the ground, and knew that if the clay figurines broke through the lines and attacked closely, the spell would be helpless.

"Templar!" the commander of the Sanctuary Army, Mage Becky, commanded in a loud voice, "Defend the Monks!"

The silver-clad Templars quickly formed a semi-encirclement from the surrounding guards, keeping the monks and mages behind.

The fireball of the Flame Charm rained down like a torrent of rain, creating a musket on the ground. The fearless clay figurines are still advancing. I've crossed the centerline, and I'm only ten paces away from the Templars!

However, this is not without effect.

In addition to the sound of fat burning, one can faintly hear the dense popping sound. A closer look at the wall of fire reveals that the movement of these faceless clay figures has slowed down considerably, and like ordinary pottery, they have cracked in fine crumbs due to the dryness and heat. Some of the smaller monsters were pushed and shoved into clods of dirt and trampled under the feet of their companions.

Eventually, the clay figurines at the front staggered out of the flames, and they danced towards their fresh prey.

As the fireball attacks got closer, they finally came into the paladin's range. The more robust smell of blood makes these clay figurines excited.

They nimbly dodged the blades of their swords, climbed up to their horses' legs with great skill, and held the Templars' hands and legs as they did against the Imperial army!

The Templars finally understood why the Imperial Army, even heavily armed, had been so vicious.

Because the clay people are not only flexible, but also surprisingly powerful! The strength of a clay figure is almost comparable to that of a Templar! You know, the body of a Templar is several times stronger than that of ordinary people!

Despite their mental preparations, the clay figurines' attacks were more difficult to deal with than expected, and the Templars on the periphery of the circle began to dance with their hands and feet, and the monks were helpless.

Because they've found that the Forbidden Spell doesn't work against these weird monsters!

A Templar gritted his teeth and ripped the clay figurine from his thigh, its limbs scribbling through the air and whining like a baby's cry, its black mouth open but nothing in its sight.

The Templar threw it to the ground, then plunged the tip of his sword into its heart.

This attack had no effect on the Clay Figures before they had rushed through the wall of fire, as their wet and sticky bodies were able to heal naturally under the blades, and although they looked indistinguishable from the previous ones, the dry bodies immediately appeared under the scorching tip of the Templar's sword, with several radial cracks in the center of their chests.

The Templar greatsword struck again, and the clay figure was reduced to a lump of dirt.

And another Templar even smashed several of them with his fist!

However, there were still a few knights standing on the outermost side, who were pulled off their horses by the clay figures and torn to pieces.

The two sides were at a stalemate, and the clay figurines rushed through the wall of fire into the encirclement, but were unable to break through the Templars' defenses.

The Monks, however, were unable to intercept the clay figurines halfway, and screams rang out among the Templars.