"Commander! The commander is dead! The commander is dead!"
The hunters nearby who had witnessed Mo Sha Wo's gruesome death shouted in panic, their faces filled with terror. They had often seen that expression on the faces of their prey, but had never imagined it would appear on their own.
Cries of Mo Sha Wo's death spread rapidly. Once all the hunters heard the news, the already frightened Mercenary Group fell apart like a swarm of bees without its queen, like a colony of ants that had lost its queen. A swelling sense of fear and disarray spread through them, and every pair of eyes became no different from a child's, filled with fear of death.
The helplessness brought on by their commander's death mingled with the terror inspired by the Little Diamond White Bear, creating a pressure that finally left them unable to breathe. More than a hundred men lost the will to fight and turned around, like soldiers fleeing with their backs to the enemy, ready to escape this dreadful slaughterhouse.
"Everyone, attack! No retreating! Anyone who runs will die on the spot!" A thunderous voice rang in their ears, especially those of the hunters who had turned to flee. It carried pure murderous intent, the bloodlust and authority unique to a veteran of the battlefield. Even Mo Sha Wo, whom they had placed on a pedestal, could not have matched its intimidating force.
Many dared not disobey that intimidating shout infused with Elemental Power. They could clearly sense that if they uttered a single word of refusal, the speaker would target and attack them the very next second.
Yet a small number of veteran hunters and young, unruly hunters remained unafraid of that threat.
"Stop fucking joking! If we don't leave now, we'll all die here!"
**"Fuck!