At this moment, in Yrel's eyes, the Orc before her was exceptionally strange.
Gagoma no longer had that ashen pallor from before. What Yrel saw on his face was an even, healthy, and—apart from his tattooed jaw—completely green complexion.
Moreover, compared to before, the Orc before her now possessed an indescribable passion—or rather, bloodlust. His chest rose and fell with his fervor, and his fists clenched and loosened. He looked as though he was ready to fight her to the death...
At the same time, the power of a paladin that she wielded told her that some new force had appeared within the Orc's body. It was a chaotic, corrupting power—powerful and uncontrollable.
She believed it was precisely this power that had driven the Orc before her into such an abnormal state, transforming him from a warrior into a powerful and pure... beast.
Yes, a beast.
Yrel felt that this was the only fitting word to describe him.
Under Ye Ting's guidance, Yrel deeply agreed with one idea: warriors were not a simple, crude profession. To become a truly outstanding warrior required not only courage and strength, but also sufficient wisdom.
The greatest warriors should be familiar with the martial techniques of every school, able to respond appropriately no matter what enemy they faced. They should know the structure of the body inside out, understand how to fully unleash their own physical potential, and inflict the greatest damage with the least amount of strength.
More importantly, true warriors needed sufficient combat wisdom.
Combat required using one's brain.
True combat was not merely a simple contest of martial prowess. It should be a clash of intellects between both sides. As the most intelligent of all creatures, people should make the most of their greatest advantage. No matter the battle or the