A Feast of Slaughter

"That was awesome! I made a killing this time!"

High in the sky, looking at the dense experience tips that refreshed on the panel, Steamed Bun exclaimed how satisfying it was.

"I feel like I've forgotten how to count. Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands... Holy crap, how many experience points is this?" Staring intently at the numbers on the panel, Steamed Bun even doubted whether he was seeing things.

In just these few rounds of bombing, Steamed Bun killed thousands of orcs, and countless more were burned to death in the ensuing fire.

Faced with an extremely dense orcish tide, the Empire's various new types of bombs unleashed their full power.

Although most of these orcs were low- Challenge Rating minions, their sheer number provided Steamed Bun with a massive amount of experience, enough to help him break through the level 10 barrier.

Steamed Bun spoke into the walkie-talkie, "Xin Gou, how much experience did you get?"

"Twenty-three thousand."

"Wow, that's incredible! How come yours has more than mine?" Steamed Bun was somewhat incredulous.

"You're naive. This is the efficiency of warfare in the Imperial era. You probably don't know, but the high-ranking bishops of the Church of the Machine God have long been brimming with experience," Singo replied casually.

Twenty-three thousand experience points—that's the kind of experience you get from killing a powerful boss with Challenge Rating of 15 or higher.

But they simply rode on the back of the Wyvern, followed the operating procedures, and listened to unified commands to drop bombs, and easily gained this experience.

If there were no version or level restrictions, Steamed Bun even suspected that he could grind to the maximum level in this wave of Orc Nest.

Thinking of this, Steamed Bun looked down at the orcs that covered the land like a tide, his eyes revealing an eager gaze, as if he were looking not at a group of savage, ugly enemies, but a group of walking experience points.

"We have to take advantage of this opportunity—to make as much money as possible!"

"Whoosh—"

The Dragon Wing, covered in alloy, sliced through the air with a piercing shriek, and clusters of brilliant flames emerged from the steel tubes at the ends of its wing armor.

"All personnel, ascend rapidly and prepare for the next round of bombing, still using Napalm Bomb."

The voice of the unit commander came through the earpiece.

"Receive."

Steamed Bun, Singo, and other Wyvern Knight quickly responded.

Immediately, they skillfully adjusted the throttle, increased the angle of attack, adjusted the armor's elevator, and maneuvered the Wyvern beneath them to climb into the sky.

These guys basically spent a lot of experience to exchange for the [New Riding] proficiency. Steamed Bun felt particularly bad at the time, and only after Singo urged him did he spend 5,000 experience to barely upgrade the skill to +6.

But compared to the current profits, this experience is nothing. A round of Napalm Bomb bombing is enough to earn back the initial investment. Steamed Bun's biggest regret is that he didn't max out this skill back then.

For example, Singo upgraded his [New Riding] proficiency to +18 in one go, making it as easy for him to perform all sorts of thrilling flying stunts as eating and drinking.

"Aww—"

The Wyvern continued to climb, feeling the thrill of tearing through the air and the powerful propulsion from behind, letting out a long, exhilarating roar.

Steamed Bun muttered to himself, "I don't know why, but I feel like this commander's voice sounds familiar."

Singo said, "You've met him before. The commander of this mission is Curtis, the bishop of the [Source Return Society]."

"It was him? He wasn't him."

"Curtis is familiar with the precise parameters of various bombs and has participated in the design of the Tian Huo Armor, so he is naturally qualified to be the commander of this bombing operation."

However, we still need to be careful; he's a paranoid antisocial person, a complete madman.

"You'd better be careful, or he might overhear you."

"We're using a one-way communication channel, not a public channel for an air formation, so there shouldn't be any problem."

"Hehe, it's not a good thing to gossip about others in private. Please focus on the task at hand."

Curtis's voice suddenly appeared in Steamed Bun's headphones, his tone calm and even, but seemingly implying something.

Steamed Bun was startled and quickly replied, "Yes, sir."

"This madman must have left himself a backdoor in secret!" Steamed Bun thought to himself, sweating profusely.

At this moment, the Wyvern had climbed to a high point. Under the knight's control, they changed direction and drew graceful arcs in the sky at an altitude of ten thousand meters.

Curtis's emotionless voice came through the headset. "Maintain level flight and drop Napalm Bomb."

Upon hearing the command, all the Wyvern Knight pressed the bomb-throwing button in unison. Instantly, the bomb bays on the Wyvern opened, and bombs poured out once again.

"Whoosh—"

Bombs rained down, landing among the orcs before exploding violently, the explosions unleashing blinding flames that engulfed all the surrounding orcs.

The flammable material, ignited, scattered like petals, gradually creating a raging inferno. It was another successful bombing.

Wailing cries, roars, the booming of explosions, the howling of hot winds, and the crackling of burning flames echoed across the wasteland. Thick smoke shrouded the sky, soaring into the clouds, while several ferocious fire dragons raged across the land.

Those heavily armored Wyvern that swept across the sky were like the scythe of death, wielding it again and again, reaping the lives of the orcs.

This is a feast for the senses.

Due to the extremely high density of orcs and the terrifying power of the new bombs, the Wyvern Knight didn't even need to calibrate the parameters; they could kill hordes of orcs and cause massive casualties even if they dropped bombs with their eyes closed.

As the war has progressed, the orcs have not even encountered the Empire's garrison directly; they have only been slaughtered unilaterally.

"Great Chieftain, the magical power of the Embers of the Burned Empire is too strong. Should we retreat first and avoid their sharp edge?" On the hill, a clan leader lowered his head and asked cautiously.

Gazing at the thick smoke filling the sky and the sea of fire engulfing the land, Great Chieftain Soro stretched out his hand, shook his head resolutely, and said in a heavy tone, "No, we must not retreat."

He raised his head and looked at the Wyvern soaring through the sky, saying, "How extravagant! No wonder it's a kingdom that has conquered North Aisel and the High Mountain Kingdom, to have those arrogant spellcasters do such a thing."

However, this level of magical bombardment cannot be sustained for long. Even if everyone on the back of those Wyvern is Archmage, they cannot unleash so many fire spells at such a high intensity.

"We can use the lives of our vanguard to deplete the enemy's spells, reducing the pressure on our subsequent attacks." Soro's tone was full of confidence.

However, there was one special reason he didn't say aloud: the word "retreat" didn't exist in the Green-skinned Orcs ' dictionary.

Even if he gave the order, most of those war-crazed Green-skinned Orcs would not obey and would still shout "Waaagh!" and charge into the fire—moreover, he himself possessed this bloodline and clearly knew the rage that filled his heart.

Soro knew that his prestige was far from enough to change the nature of millions of Green-skinned Orcs.

Most orcs only admired and feared his power, and regarded him as their nominal "boss".

But if given the chance to rise to power, these simple-minded, Limbs strong Green-skinned Orcs would not hesitate to swarm him and tear him to shreds.

Upon hearing Soro's words, the clan chief beside him suddenly realized and clapped his hands in delight. "That's right, Great Chieftain, we can use the lives of the lower orcs to deplete their spell reserves!"

Another clan leader grinned and chuckled, "These inferior orcs are born from the soil anyway, their lives are worth less than weeds."

Soro continued to look at the battlefield, then raised his spear and pointed it at Avendell Dan, which was shrouded in thick smoke. "Gentlemen—that place will eventually become our orcish territory."

The Empire's spellcasters are indeed incredibly powerful, but can they truly slaughter millions of lower-class orcs? The moment they run out of power will be the moment our Red Blood Tribe marches in!

Then, Soro stood atop the hill, brandishing his spear and roaring at the Green-skinned Orcs, "My people! Keep charging! They won't last much longer!"

Once the flames from the sky have died down, you can storm the fortress and plunder all the wealthy humans and Dwarf!

"Waaaagh!"

Hearing Soro's words, the Green-skinned Orcs were greatly encouraged and charged toward the battlefield covered in flames, brandishing their simple Bone Club and stone spears.

Orcs are never afraid of death; they are only afraid of having no staff to beat them with, nothing to steal, and no one to kill them!

In the Red Blood Tribe today, the Green-skinned Orcs born from the soil are called "inferior orcs," and are despised by the Blood Orcs because of their large numbers and weak strength.

Some Pure Blood Orcs, unable to tolerate the unconventional behavior of "inferior orcs," actively abused, beat, and even slaughtered Green-skinned Orcs.

In the previous storyline, Da Ya led the Green-skinned Orcs in a "Bloody Uprising," slaughtering all the Pure Blood Orcs, making the Green-skinned Orcs the legitimate rulers of Fei An Suo, and unleashing the "Orc Disaster" that shook the north.

But now, the emergence of the Embers of the Burned Empire has completely changed everything.

"Boom!"

Another Earth-Shattering roar followed, and a barrage of bombs exploded in mid-air, causing the sky and earth to tremble violently, and the orcs howled in agony amidst the sea of fire.

The fourth round of bombing by the Air Force Corps began, and the Green-skinned Orcs roared in response, launching a new charge.

Anzeta Great Wasteland, Dragon Blood Mountain.

The Red Dragon lay horizontally on the mountaintop, its broad wings outstretched, exhaling a plume of Sulfur Scent white smoke. The dragon crystal on its chest radiated brilliant light, like the sun.

Keosius was still processing the power of the Sun God Amanata.

Within that golden light, there was also a thick, earthy yellow glimmer—that was the divine power left on the incarnation by Dumasong when he descended, mainly related to the earth, minerals, and other fields.

Keosius immediately dispatched his engineering team to excavate all the surrounding rocks, turning the earth upside down, and extracting the divine power from them.

At the same time, the Red Dragon's eyes were also gleaming—he was using the [Calamity Dragon Eye] to observe the war on the Ugo Great Prairie, no, more accurately, the massacre.

From Keosius's perspective, the earth had turned into a raging inferno, constantly devouring the lives of the Green-skinned Orcs, yet the orcs continued to charge forward relentlessly.

However, he also keenly observed that these orcs were gradually evolving!

While struggling in the flames, some orcs developed a tough protective film on their bodies from the spores that blocked the high temperature, but in the end, the orcs were still burned to death by the flames.

Seeing this, even Keosius couldn't help but sigh, "Tsk, what terrifying adaptability! Such a mutation can occur in just a few seconds. Indeed, such unreasonable things should be nipped in the bud." The Red Dragon clenched its claws, its knuckles rubbing against each other, making a crisp cracking sound.

In his memory, the Green-skinned Orcs, transformed by the power of the Abyss, were complete War Machine. What was most terrifying about them was not their strength, but their insane will, powerful reproductive and adaptive abilities.

Newborn Green-skinned Orcs are actually extremely weak, as fragile as plants, but soon their spores will multiply rapidly and evolve traits that adapt to their environment.

They are the product of the evil gods' collusion with the Abyss, a species born to create slaughter and spread chaos, and true biological weapons.

These orcs were supposed to grow stronger and stronger in battle, eventually evolving into terrifying harbingers of calamity.

Unfortunately, this time they encountered Keosius and the Embers of the Burned Empire controlled by the Red Dragon.

Gazing at the battlefield engulfed in flames and thick smoke, Keosius's pupils gleamed. The power Bloodline Gift transcended time and space, delivering an imperial edict to the Hobgoblin thousands of miles away—

"Dror, do it cleanly. Make sure to completely exterminate those Green-skinned Orcs. If necessary... even destroy the soil in which they live."

At the top of Dragon City, Dror heard the grand and majestic voice and immediately knelt down. His heart, flowing with hot blood, pounded, and his expression became incredibly fanatical and excited.

It's no wonder Dror was so excited, after all, this was a decree personally issued by the Embers of the Burned Emperor, a direct transmission of the Great Red Dragon's will! In the vast, transdimensional territory of the Empire, few can enjoy such an honor.

Even his superior, Dolo, the Imperial Army Marshal, Minister of the Military Department, and First-Class Dragon Blood Duke, rarely received such an imperial edict, which shows how much importance His Your Majesty Keosius attaches to this matter!

This also means that Dror can take this opportunity to show off his skills in front of the emperor, and even gain his favor and become a favorite of the emperor.

Dror knelt on the ground, his voice firm and resolute. "Yes, Your Majesty, I will definitely complete the mission and wipe out those orcs completely, leaving not a single one alive!"

The Hobgoblin raised his head and looked at the orcs surging in from afar, covering the horizon like a tidal wave. In his golden eyes was a murderous intent that was almost tangible, as well as a deeply hidden greed.

For the glorious cause of the Empire, for the Great Blueprint of the Red Dragon, and for my glorious future, you must die, Dror thought.