Full health is the kill threshold, no matter if you're a god or a demon!

On the seventh day, at the camp of the chaotic three-race allied forces.

Grom sat on a makeshift throne, a whole roasted beast, golden brown, hanging on a grill before him, its fat dripping and sizzling on the embers. He was tearing into a hind leg, his mouth dripping with oil, and he was in an incredibly good mood.

"Report--!"

A pig-man scout tumbled and crawled into the camp, his face full of excitement.

"My lord! Another human secondary city has been captured in the west! Of the more than three hundred players defending the city, only a dozen or so have fled!"

Grom grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Run? Run where?"

"They ran north!"

"North..." Grom narrowed his eyes, "Dragon City?"

The scout scratched his head, looking bewildered: "It doesn't seem like it... They ran north for a while, then turned west, looking like headless flies running around aimlessly. They probably don't know where Dragon City is."

"Hahahaha!" Grom laughed loudly, the sound shaking dust off the tent roof. "Running around! Good! Running around well!"

He kicked away the bone beside his foot, stood up, and walked to the huge map hanging in the center of the tent.

On the map, humanity's original territory was marked in red. In just one week, that red area had shrunk by two-thirds—Azure Ruins, Eastern Mining Town, Forest Farm, West Coast Fishing Village... one by one, former human strongholds were now marked with the battle flags of pigmen, ratmen, or goblins.

In the northeastern part of the map, there is a lone flag with a dragon shape.

That's the symbol of Dragon City.

However, since they could not determine the exact location, they could only roughly delineate an area—a vague dotted circle.

"Dragon Nation people..." Grom stared at the mark, a complex light flashing in his single eye. "You're really not going to fight anymore?"

For the past two weeks, his scouts had practically searched every inch of human-inhabited areas, but traces of Dragon City players were scarce. The black-haired players they encountered weren't particularly formidable, and many were even low-level newbies who scattered easily when they charged at them—completely unlike those fearsome creatures that terrified the pigmen!

Could it be... that Liu Nian and his team have really given up on the war? They're not going to fight the upgraded war anymore?

"Your Majesty!"

A pig-man warchief strode forward, his face gleaming with menacing features. This guy was the newly appointed warchief of the Clefthoof clan, and his confidence had been so inflated by killing humans these past few days that it was about to explode.

"Let me lead the troops to find them and raze Dragon City to the ground! I refuse to believe that their small force can cause any trouble!"

Grom's heart skipped a beat, and he almost spat out the meat he had just eaten.

He wanted nothing more than to kick this idiot to death!

Which village's pig are you from, so arrogant?

I'm trying to avoid you, and you want to provoke me?

Did you think you were invincible after bullying the weak for a few days?

But he couldn't dampen the morale of his own men. After all, the great victories of the past few days were all thanks to these battle leaders who were shouting and leading their men forward. If he were to say now, "The Chinese are terrifying, let's not mess with them," it would definitely have a significant impact on morale.

Grom suppressed his anger, forcing a forced smile onto his face.

"No rush."

He turned to look at the corner of the tent, where a gray-robed figure was crouching—the ratman messenger.

"What did you say over there? How far have you dug the tunnel?"

The rat-man messenger raised his head, his shrill voice like fingernails scraping glass: "The digging is already underway, but we don't know the exact location of Dragon City, so progress is slow. We can only dig in the general direction for now, and we'll see what happens once we find it."

Grom frowned: "General direction? You're not digging in the wrong direction?"

"If you miss it, you can dig again." The ratman messenger grinned, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "We have a lot of people."

Grom didn't bother arguing with him and looked at the goblin messenger on the other side.

The little green guy immediately puffed out his chest, looking smug: "The tech giants say the Doomsday Cannon is almost finished! Then, with just one command, it can blast an entire city to smithereens!"

"Immediately?" Grom glanced at him sideways, his tone full of doubt. "If I remember correctly, you said that thing takes seven days to charge, right?"

The goblin messenger's expression froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered, explaining with an awkward laugh, "Uh...yes, it does take seven days to charge...but the power is immense! One shot, and everything's gone! Seven days for a city, not a bad deal!"

Grom ignored him.

He stared at the lone dragon-shaped flag on the map and remained silent for a long time.

A flicker of apprehension, confusion, and a hint of unease crossed his eyes.

What exactly are the Chinese doing?

Then he smiled.

Whatever they're up to, as long as they don't take action, that's a good thing. We'll see the outcome in a month.

"Alright, since the Chinese really aren't going to make a move—"

He turned and strode out of the tent.

Outside the tent, the squeals of the war boars, the clanging of weapons, and their savage howls merged into a cacophony of noise. In the sunlight, countless tusks reflected a chilling gleam.

Grom took a deep breath, a surge of pride welling up within him.

"Pass on my orders!"

"Expand your search area! Capture any human players you see, and kill the rest! I want them to be unable to find a safe respawn point before the 30-day deadline!"

"Roar!!!" the pigs cheered in unison.

Grom's grin stretched from ear to ear.

Look at that! The morale is really high!

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Meanwhile, in an underground cave.

Selena huddled in the corner.

Her body was filthy—her once elegant robe was now tattered to shreds, covered in mud, blood, and some kind of sticky substance. Her face was covered in grime, and her hair was a tangled mess, making her look like a refugee fleeing famine.

Where is there even a trace of a noble lady?

She stared at the badge in her hand, now dull and lifeless—the words "Eye of Truth" were almost completely obscured by blood.

Leon, Afra, Santos, Asakura Kanna, Cassandra...

Faces flashed through her mind.

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.

She closed her eyes, and the image became even clearer.

That was the scene they witnessed at their stronghold a few days earlier when the small blue town was bombed.

Leon stood by the window, his back to everyone, and said confidently, "Control the losses, keep a consistent story, and nothing will go wrong."

"Nothing will happen..."

They played a winning hand terribly!

Selena muttered to herself, then laughed.

Laughter echoed in the empty cave, sounding like weeping.

In the distance, the faint howls of the pig-men could be heard.

Getting closer.

She didn't move.

He simply gripped the badge even tighter, so tightly that the metal at the edge pierced his palm, drawing blood.

pain.

But it's better than feeling heartbroken.

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