The Peak Sixth Grade Warrior at the head took a deep breath and shouted in a low voice:
"Charge!"
Six figures shot toward the Wolf Gang's camp like arrows loosed from a bow!
However—
The moment they rushed into the camp, they felt something was off.
It was too quiet.
Unnaturally quiet.
There were no patrolling gang members, no hidden sentries on guard, no noisy clamor, and no pungent stench of strong liquor.
The entire camp was deathly silent, with only the wind whipping tattered cloth into a flapping rustle.
"Where is everyone?"
One of the warriors scanned the surroundings, his voice full of confusion.
In such a vast camp, there was not a single person in sight.
At that moment, another warrior in the group suddenly spotted something, and his expression changed.
"There are corpses over there!"
Everyone followed the direction he pointed. Not far ahead, a Wolf Gang member dressed in gang attire lay on the ground. His body was shriveled, his skin stretched tightly over his bones, and all signs of life had vanished. He had died miserably.
What had happened here?
The group exchanged looks, each seeing shock in the others' eyes.
They continued onward.
They encountered more and more corpses—some lay before the tents, some sprawled beside weapon racks, while others were curled up in corners.
Without exception, every corpse was shriveled and deathly pale, as though something had drained every drop of blood from their bodies!
"That is... Scar Wolf!"
A warrior stared at the shriveled corpse ahead and cried out in shock.
Everyone looked over and saw a figure lying on the ground before them. Its head was gone, leaving only a shriveled body behind.
Yet the aura emanating from it, along with that distinctive scar, told them—the Wolf Gang's Second Master was