Before absolute numbers, the speed and power of arrows became utterly meaningless.
Every arrow the centaur scouts fired in rapid succession was detonated in advance by the storm-like fragments, blossoming into brilliant fireworks around Meng Chao.
Not only did they fail to touch a single hair on him, they instead added several shades of unfathomable mystery to him.
The remaining fragments, propelled by the blast waves and Totem Power, flew toward the centaur scouts at twice their original speed, shooting Turanze's foremost marksmen into a sprawled mess.
For a time, the area within nearly a hundred meters around Meng Chao became a forbidden zone capable of freezing all attacks.
Any Turan Orc who dared attack him either rolled across the ground or went limp as mud, unable to make any sound besides pig-slaughtering howls.
Even the Turan Orcs more than a hundred meters away, an entire massive army, fell deathly silent, leaving only heavy breathing.
"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Kasava Bloodhoof was shocked and enraged.
Driven by the double provocation of bone-deep hatred and the monstrous humiliation of having the temple's treasure stolen, he lost his reason and personally climbed onto the war-drum platform beneath the great banner, which was pulled by four Totem Beasts.
He kicked a drummer aside, seized two drumsticks made from the leg bones of giant beasts, each as thick as a bowl's rim, and began pounding the thunderous war drums.
"Kill him! Advance, all troops! Crush this Black Dwarf to pieces!"
His eyes were blood-red, steaming white vapor poured from his nostrils, and he let out a hysterical howl.
The war drums were an order.
Beneath the great banner representing the War Chieftain, once the drums sounded, whether there lay a bottomless abyss ahead or a death line formed by Holy Light magicians, elven archers,