Blood stained the grasslands red, and corpses covered the earth. The Expeditionary Corps, having just finished a battle, looked like gods of slaughter who had emerged from hell.
Though he stood beneath the blazing sun at the front of the army, Hudson still felt a chill.
Just moments ago, a tribal coalition numbering several hundred thousand Beastfolk had vanished beneath the Expeditionary Corps' slaughtering blades.
Similar battles had occurred many times since they entered the great plains. Almost every day, Beastfolk tribes were crippled by the Expeditionary Corps.
By now, no one had the heart to count their victories. No matter how many ordinary Beastfolk they killed, it could no longer stir anyone's interest.
"Pass down the order. Recall the scattered troops. The entire army will shift southwest. Next, we will carve out a bloody path!"
Hudson gave the order with murderous intent.
No matter how elite an army was, its soldiers were still human. Constant slaughter across the great plains inevitably exhausted both body and mind.
Since landing until now, every Expeditionary Corps soldier had several Beastfolk lives on their hands. There were no shortage of those who had taken more than a hundred heads.
Hudson was destined to bear the title of "Prairie God of Slaughter." The Beastfolk who had narrowly escaped death would spread the word for him on their own.
As long as Beastfolk still existed, he would be the most terrifying Great Demon King. After all, the dreadful Abyssal Demon King existed only in legend, far less terrifying than pain that cut to the bone.
If time could be turned back, perhaps ninety-nine percent of Beastfolk would oppose starting this war.
Other than slaughter, the war had brought them no benefits whatsoever.
Making achievements on the battlefield, plundering wealth from the human world, and reaching