Moreover, the flames erupting from the burning trees were neither normal red nor blue.
They were pale purple, mottled with countless crimson and ghastly white points of light.
Even the billowing smoke carried a choking, sour stench.
When Meng Chao caught that scent, he felt as though two Bone Scraper Steel Blades had stabbed through his nostrils into his brain, savagely scraping the inner wall of his skull.
The wolves beneath the Wolf Cavalry were likewise blasted into a sorry state by the sudden shockwave, torn apart and scattered. Some died, some were wounded.
Even those lucky enough to avoid critical injuries were frightened out of their wits, transformed from incomparably savage beasts into birds startled by the mere twang of a bowstring.
As the thick sour stench flooded into the wolves' nostrils, the beasts let out shrill, piercing wails of terror.
Several wolves went limp in the limbs, curled up on the ground, and trembled uncontrollably.
Others were so terrified that they urinated themselves.
Still others suffered complete mental collapse, carrying their masters as they bolted and leaped wildly through the burning forest.
Either they crashed violently into tree trunks, breaking the bones and tendons of both themselves and their masters.
Or they hurled themselves into the swamp, only to be completely swallowed by black slime amid frantic convulsions.
This sour stench feels like the scent of some high-level Totem Beast, Meng Chao thought.
Though wolves were savage, they were far from rulers at the top of the food chain.
In the deep mountains and old forests of Turanze, there were countless natural predators that fed on wolves.
The shamans of the Great Horned Legion must have selected several materials and carefully concocted a secret medicine that imitated the scent of wolves' natural enemies.
Under ordinary circumstances, such crude