To the Golden Back Guards, honor was life.
The Great Chieftain's unsheathed saber meant the highest command and the highest honor. The Great Chieftain had also made it clear: if they failed to take their target, his saber would never return to its sheath.
The Golden Back Guards served the Great Chieftain and regarded him as their sovereign and father. This was the Great Chieftain's trust in them, his favor toward them.
And they had to protect that trust and honor with their blood and their lives.
At that moment, they had only one thought: charge the battlements, take the city gate, welcome their tribal brothers through it, seize this damned fortress, let the Arrow Wolf Tribe's iron hooves trample their enemies' faces, let their sabers hack at their enemies' necks, and water this trust and honor with their enemies' blood!
Kill!
The Golden Back Guards had entered the fray. Every son of the Arrow Wolf Tribe knew exactly what that meant, and they grew even more frenzied, their blood boiling.
All they had to do was follow the Golden Back Guards, charge forward, cut off their enemies' heads, split open their chests, and kill every last one of them.
The Golden Back Guards were like streaks of golden lightning, shooting toward the battlements. They climbed far faster than ordinary Arrow Wolfmen.
Their attacks were swifter, their dodges more agile, and their defenses far stronger. In just a fleeting moment, more than a dozen of the first wave had avoided the dense attacks raining down from the battlements and climbed to the top amid a hail of spears and arrows.
Slash!
A Golden Back Guard's wolf saber hacked viciously into the neck of a defender on the battlements.
A flash of gold, and the man's head shot up from his