Ten minutes later, the fleet led by Daelin and Derek spotted several small islands ahead, and the Orcs were heading toward them to escape.
When he saw this strange turn of events, Derek could no longer hold back. "Father, all those islands ahead are covered in dense woods. Their men must be lying in ambush inside. This is a trap."
Daelin was no fool either. When he saw the Orcs fleeing toward the islands, he also understood that this was very likely an enemy ambush. He had no intention of going ashore.
"Derek, these Orcs are playing with fire. They know nothing about naval warfare. Do they think we'll charge in like idiots? Fools. I'll soon make them regret setting an ambush on those islands. Pass down my orders: have every gunship sink their vessels, then bombard the woods across the water. I want to scour every inch of that ground with cannon fire."
"Father, I think..." Before Derek could say anything more, Daelin led his men belowdecks, intending to personally fire the cannons at the Orcs.
Yet what lay in ambush on the islands opposite them was not Orcs at all, but groups of Red Dragons.
"My Warchief, everything has gone as you predicted. The enemy has stepped into our deathtrap. Shall we attack now?" Zuluhed's humble tone was entirely at odds with his savage appearance, yet it left no room for faultfinding.
"Zuluhed, what do you think of the humans' ships?" The Warchief did not rush to attack, asking this question instead.
"Them? They look enormous, and some are even clad entirely in steel. All of that makes them look powerful. And I fear it would be difficult to build them with our current technology." Zuluhed gave a fair assessment.
"Power? An entirely unsurprising answer. After all, every