Faced with one provocation after another, Sword Valley Outpost naturally could not simply sit and wait for death.
As the officer in charge of rotations, Cain had keenly detected the Blackscale Lizardfolk's psychological arrogance from the testimonies of captured survivors.
Those cold-blooded creatures believed Kobolds would forever be lambs awaiting slaughter.
So Cain quickly planned a reverse hunt.
He selected a group of former Kobold veterans and equipped them with steel spearheads. Half of them changed into tattered sacks and carried bamboo baskets, disguising themselves as a gathering party as they swaggered toward the areas where incidents often occurred.
They were the bait.
Meanwhile, Cain and the outpost's professional soldiers, along with the remaining Kobold soldiers, lay in ambush amid the grass on the reverse slope a li away.
Sure enough, the Blackscale Lizardfolk hunting party appeared right on schedule.
They had little in the way of tactics. Their long-standing racial dominance over Kobolds had made them extremely arrogant.
In their eyes, these tiny creatures would collapse in terror the moment they saw the towering Lizardfolk and their waving spears.
Moreover, although Lizardfolk and Kobolds were both reptiles, they were different races after all, and had trouble distinguishing faces.
This further ensured that they never noticed the steady steps and sharp gazes of this group, which were nothing like the weak, elderly, women, and children they had encountered before.
"Hiss—" With the sharp sound of tearing cloth, the Lizardfolk captain was the first to burst from the swamp. It tried to intimidate its prey with a sudden attack as usual.
However, what greeted it was not a scream, but a short, forceful whistle.
The Kobold group that had been "panicking" instantly became disciplined, rapidly contracting their formation.
Even worse, the things in their hands were not walking sticks at all,