Level-eight zombies were hardly rare, but this was a whole horde.
How many were there?
Over a thousand.
The Great Prophet's hand trembled. This had to be a joke, right?
Zombies banding together was common enough, but since when had anyone heard of so many powerful zombies forming a group?
By all logic, this horde had to include level-nine zombies, perhaps even level-ten ones.
The Great Prophet said gravely, "Gather our people immediately. Overwhelm them with numbers. Perfect-a whole pile of Advanced Crystals."
But by the time the Great Prophet assembled his forces and arrived, the enemy was long gone.
After all, his column stretched for dozens of miles.
Unwilling to accept it, the Great Prophet muttered, "What the hell is going on?"
Watching them from afar, Big Strong roared with laughter. "I don't know why, but I just want to mess with them. No hurry. We'll take our time and kill a few every day. If one month isn't enough to kill them all, we'll take two."
That night, Big Strong led his underlings on another raid. This time, the Great Prophet was prepared and encountered the zombie army.
But the zombies ran as soon as they had eaten. The Great Prophet simply didn't dare pursue them-they were too fast.
If he went after the zombies with only a handful of elites, he might never return.
The Great Prophet stamped his foot bitterly. He would deal with them after finishing off Dragon Nation.
That same day, bases across Dragon Nation received word that the Oilheads and Brown Bears were attacking.
With the passage of time, much of the standing water left by the earlier torrential rains had evaporated or drained away.
Mu Hong stepped forward and began contacting the various factions.
She had once joined forces with several base