From the moment those four hundred-odd griffins swooped down from the mountains into the battlefield, this chance encounter between Zelandia and the Shadowmoon Clan orcs had already lost all suspense.
With no prepared corps of archers on guard, unloaded griffins were simply the natural bane of frostwolves.
This was how they normally hunted: locking onto their targets from high in the sky, plunging down to drive their talons into the bodies of large mammals, seizing their fragile spines, and then lifting the entire prey into the air.
And at that point, they did not even need to use their beaks, capable of punching through plate armor.
Because most of the time, with the griffins' own weight compounded by the terrifying kinetic energy of their dives, their prey had already been left paralyzed from head to toe by shattered spinal fractures.
Just a few passes would be enough to wipe out nearly all of the fewer than two thousand wolf riders already on the battlefield.
And without the frostwolf cavalry's charge against the militia formations, the orcs lost their most crucial means of victory and trump card. All that remained was the road to defeat.
As for Li Wei's blast of frost breath, which had cleaved straight through the battlefield like the icy breath of Winter Storm, it became the dragon's leg that crushed the scales on the main battlefield.
One stomp, and it ground one side of the scales flat, pinning it utterly to the ground, unable to rise again.
It had to be said that dragon breath possessed equally terrifying destructive power on the continent's mundane battlefields.
What it destroyed was not merely the body, but the spirit as well.
In fact, Li Wei had already used two breaths in succession today to force the griffins into submission. This