Where the Trump Card Lies

Most members of the Cult lacked patience.

Considering the history of how they had built their fortunes, such haste for quick gains was not difficult to understand.

In the end, they could rely on their powerful regenerative abilities to cling to life anyway. Naturally, burning through their existing resources was not such a difficult decision.

Not to mention that after being besieged for so long, the Cult's missionaries had long been crushed beneath mounting psychological pressure.

With someone taking the lead, the missionaries behind naturally followed suit;

after all, what was being lost here might be clan assets, but as long as they could come up with an excuse afterward, it would not be some irreparable disaster.

Protecting themselves was what mattered most right now. And if things went well, perhaps they could even gather up the survivors and continue attacking and plundering?

Bottle after bottle of medicine was thrown into the slumbering herd of aberrant beasts. The creatures, which had only been forcibly restrained by massive doses of tranquilizers, immediately awoke.

Strange roars rang out without end. The savagery within their disordered genes shattered the beasts' minds at once.

Biting, devouring, evolving.

The craving for flesh instantly overtook their minds. The foremost aberrant beasts scattered and surged forward. Only after the Cult missionaries controlling them on both flanks went to great lengths—and even personally dealt with several creatures that wandered off course—did they manage to aim them at the Starfire cultivators' encampment.

"Enemy attack!"

Near the front lines, the Starfire cultivators had naturally not let down their guard.

A vital part of this military formation, assembled from various places, had originally come from beastfolk tribes. Their minds were not as sharp as those of the human race, but their bodies were each stronger than the last.

Several hours of