The Coming Crisis

An eleven-man Lonely Mountain Squad was riding on replacement Dragonblood Warhorses and heading west all the way.

They had been walking for nearly twenty days.

Along this entire road, they encountered almost no obstacles or assassinations. Aside from a few rather reckless magical beasts suddenly rushing in front of them and then abruptly stopping in shivering terror, they did not run into any accidents.

Yet this kind of boring life was something everyone had anticipated, as well as the situation they least wanted to encounter.

Because this meant that if the Dwarf Empire made a move at all, it would certainly do so with the determination and strength to send Odom to his death.

"Old O, how much further is it to your old hometown now?" Combat Warlock McLean suddenly asked.

Odom, riding a little Dragonblood pony, pinched the horse's belly with his short legs and said, "Didn't we just enter the territory of the Red Fire Kingdom? If we don't take any detours and pass directly through the territory of the Sand Sea Kingdom, then only half the distance is left."

"What are your plans? The Red Fire Kingdom and the Sand Sea Kingdom are currently at war, and William is also there. We can take a detour; anyway, I'm not in too much of a hurry."

Odom scratched his honest head and said with a sheepish look.

Meanwhile, Acaro said indifferently, "Why take a detour? We'll just go in a straight line. Even if there's a battlefield right in front of us, this old man isn't taking a detour."

"Is that really good? It might cause trouble." Odom remembered William's plan and couldn't help saying carefully.

"What are you afraid of? Am I, a melee warlock, going to take a detour just because there's danger ahead?" McLean drew