Elven cultivators

Ash Wasteland.

This area is the border between the eastern and northern parts of the continent, and the terrain is mainly gray-brown dry grassland, with the surface covered with coarse gravel and low shrubs.

Spring and summer are short, while winter is long and bitterly cold.

It is covered by permafrost for about seven months of the year.

Deep in the wilderness, on the back of a sheltered hill, dozens of gray tents are huddled together.

The tent in the very center was exceptionally large, standing seven or eight meters tall, with its canvas stretched taut, resembling a giant beast lying prone on the ground.

A dozen or so werewolf guards were scattered around the tent, each with their backs straight and their eyes scanning the surroundings warily, not allowing anyone else to approach.

Inside the tent, under the dome supported by thick wooden stakes, a magic crystal lamp hung in the center. The light was dim and yellowish, with a thin layer of grease floating on the edges, making the faces below appear half-lit and half-shadowed.

About twenty people sat in two rows.

At first glance, their skin color, hair, and body shape are all different.

There were bald, muscular humans, stocky dwarves, orcs with grayish-yellow fur, and halflings wearing dark cloaks with only half their chins showing.

Ethnic diversity.

The group looked at each other, but no one spoke.

The atmosphere was somewhat solemn.

A bald, burly man sitting on the outer edge couldn't hold back any longer. He frowned at the wolf-man sitting at the head of the table and said gruffly, "Everyone's here now, can we get down to business? I don't have that much time to waste here."

A nearby orc nodded in agreement: "Elder Olsen, you didn't call us all this way just to enjoy the wind and sand, did you? You should tell us what's going on."

Upon hearing this, everyone else looked up at the wolf-born man sitting in the main seat.

The wolf-like creature was burly, with shoulders and backs as thick as cast iron doors, and an imposing aura that clearly indicated its strength.

Even under the watchful eyes of representatives from various forces, Olsen remained composed and spoke slowly and deliberately: "There's no need for you all to be in such a hurry. We have plenty of time today. It's been a long time since we last met, so it would be nice to chat."

"Speaking of which, haven't you all had a tough time these past few years?"

These words came out of nowhere, and the group exchanged glances but no one responded.

The bald, burly man frowned, his expression darkening considerably: "Speak plainly, stop beating around the bush."

Olsen smiled, seemingly oblivious to the impatience in his tone, and continued, "Since the Silvermoon Clan banned the half-elf slave trade, business must have been tough for everyone these past few years."

As soon as these words were spoken, the expressions on everyone's faces visibly turned ugly.

The factions they belonged to either started out in the slave trade or had the slave trade as their main source of income. In previous years, they lived very comfortably by this trade and had accumulated a considerable fortune.

As a result, the Silvermoon Clan suddenly appeared out of nowhere, not only absorbing a large number of half-elves, but also prohibiting any force in the eastern part of the continent from capturing half-elves to serve as slaves.

You should know that half-elves are the most sought-after and most profitable commodities on the slave market.

With this source of income cut off, their earnings plummeted by more than half.

But no one dared to confront the Silvermoon Clan head-on.

The fate of the Steelfur Tribe is still fresh in everyone's mind, and no one wants to follow in their footsteps.

With the loss of the half-elf as a major contributor, coupled with the Silvermoon Clan's overt and covert suppression through their trade network spanning the Eastern Continent, their lives have become increasingly difficult, and they have been extremely frustrated in recent years.

"Don't you want to change the status quo?" Olsen said slowly.

"How can we change it?" the bald, burly man sneered. "Unless we wipe out the Silvermoon Clan."

He had only said it casually, but Olsen gave him a half-smile and nodded: "That's a good idea."

The air inside the tent seemed to freeze for a moment.

No one was stupid; they immediately understood the meaning behind Olsen's words and all showed expressions of astonishment.

The bald, burly man sat up straight instinctively, squinting at Olsen: "You didn't call us here today just to pull some people into a war against the Silvermoon Clan, did you?"

Olsen did not deny it, and nodded, saying, "As long as we eliminate the Silvermoon Clan, everyone's slave trade can be restored to its former glory, and we can also obtain a large amount of territory and trade routes. I don't need to say more about how great the benefits are."

The group exchanged glances, all showing a hint of interest.

Olsen took in all these reactions and pressed his advantage: "The Silvermoon Clan killed one of our elders. The Bloodclaw Clan has long wanted the Silvermoon Clan to pay the price, but we were held back by other matters and could only endure it for the time being. Now that we have the time, we will naturally avenge that elder."

"And all of you here, like us, have grudges against the Silvermoon Clan and wish for its destruction. In that case, we can join forces to deal with the Silvermoon Clan."

Silence fell over the tent.

Everyone wore a thoughtful expression.

Just then, a middle-aged man in the corner suddenly stood up, leaning on the table, and frowned, saying, "It's your business if you want to deal with the Silvermoon Clan. We Deeprock Territory will not interfere."

All eyes turned to him.

Olsen seemed to have anticipated this situation, showing no surprise on his face. He simply tilted his head slightly to look at the middle-aged man, a sneer appearing on his lips.

"I heard that a rare metal vein was discovered in Deep Rock Territory. In recent years, they have gradually transformed into weapons forging and trading, and their business is booming. They have even stopped the original slave trade."

The middle-aged man said expressionlessly, "Since you know, then you should understand what I mean: don't drag us into your affairs with the Silvermoon Clan."

"This is troublesome." Olsen sighed, looking very distressed. "You said you didn't want to get involved, but you already know the inside story. What if you step out of this tent and then tell the Silvermoon Clan about what happened here? We'll be in big trouble."

The middle-aged man's face darkened: "What do you mean by that? If I wanted to inform on someone, would I bring it up now? Wouldn't it be better to inform on them quietly afterward?"

Olsen shook his head: "That makes sense, but I'm still not reassured."

The middle-aged man's expression changed slightly: "What do you want?"

Olsen didn't answer, but instead raised his hand slightly.

In an instant, a very faint ripple appeared in the air in the center of the tent, like the surface of water being rippled by the wind.

A curtain of water silently appeared, hovering above everyone's heads. The image gradually became clearer, showing a city built of gray stone overlooking from high above.

The middle-aged man immediately recognized the town in the picture as their old lair, Deeprock.

His expression changed drastically, and he glared angrily at Olsen: "What do you want to do?"

Olsen smiled without saying a word.

The scene then changed.

Large numbers of figures have silently gathered on the wasteland surrounding Deeprock City.

Those were giant wolves, each nearly two meters tall at the shoulder.

The gray-black fur clung tightly to the raised muscle lines, and the limbs were thick and well-proportioned.

The blood-red claw tips gleamed darkly in the sunlight, as if they had just been pulled from a pool of blood.

They didn't howl or stir; they just stood quietly on the wasteland, like a shadow that couldn't be moved by the wind, surrounding the entire city in the center.

The four or five giant wolves at the front were half a circle larger than their kind, with a ring of blood-red mane around their necks that fluttered slightly in the wind, like flowing blood.

The garrison of Deeprock quickly spotted the wolf pack, and warning bells rang out instantly, echoing throughout the town.

The moment the bell rang, the wolf pack charged toward the town.

They are incredibly fast.

The gray-black torrent swept silently along the ground, crossing the moat and climbing the city walls, its movements as synchronized as a curtain billowing in the wind.

Before the defenders on the city wall could issue a second warning, they were pounced on by the wolves that had stormed up the wall.

In just over ten breaths, the defending line was torn to shreds.

The wolf pack surged into the city like a tidal wave and began a bloody massacre.

Looking down from above, the gray-black torrent surged and flooded the streets, blooming scarlet blood flowers wherever it passed, turning the town into a shocking sight.

The people inside the tent were stunned.

Everyone froze in their seats, staring wide-eyed at the water screen.

They were no strangers to carnage, but the large-scale, well-coordinated wolf pack massacre of a city before them was something they had never witnessed before.

The way those giant wolves climbed the city walls, their flanking routes through the streets, and their encirclement of fleeing targets... every step they took was driven by clear tactical intent, not by the instinctive hunting of wild beasts.

Those present are all key figures in various forces in the eastern part of the continent, so their judgment is naturally quite good.

They determined the strength level of the giant wolves almost simultaneously.

Gold Rank!

The wolf pack, estimated to number in the thousands, was entirely composed of Gold-rank wolves.

The leading few exceptionally large male wolves exuded a far greater sense of oppression than the others, clearly indicating they were legendary-level beings.

The key point is that these giant wolves can also cooperate and execute tactics, with their movements being perfectly synchronized.

This level of coordination far exceeds that of ordinary herds.

Everyone turned to look at Olsen, their eyes filled with barely suppressed horror.

Such a well-organized and meticulously coordinated gold-tier wolf pack is almost comparable to the legendary gold legion, isn't it?

Apart from the five major powers at the pinnacle of the continent, probably no other power could muster such a fighting force.

How exactly did the Bloodclaw Clan manage to do that?

The middle-aged man's face was deathly pale.

He stared intently at the town being stained with blood in the water curtain, his lips trembling as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Orsen ignored him, staring indifferently at the city in the water curtain that had been completely transformed into a bloody meat grinder, and said, "Only the dead can keep secrets. Since you don't intend to participate, then I can only make sure you never have to say it again."

The moment he finished speaking, Olsen suddenly raised his hand, his five fingers curling into a tearing motion.

Despite being some distance apart, the middle-aged man's neck suddenly split open, and blood spurted out, drawing a dark red arc under the light.

"Hmm..."

He instinctively raised his hands and covered his neck tightly, making muffled sounds in his throat, as if he wanted to say something, but he had no strength left.

He slumped down, the chair back tilted back under his weight, and then he and the chair fell to the ground.

The hands that had been covering her neck fell to her sides, revealing a bloody, mangled wound on her neck. The edges were jagged, as if it had been torn apart by the claws of some wild beast, ripping off half of her neck.

The tent was deathly silent.

The bald, burly man stared at the middle-aged man's unseeing face, his gaze flickering uncertainly.

Olsen had clearly anticipated that Deep Rock would refuse to participate in this operation and was already prepared to eliminate him.

Otherwise, the wolf pack wouldn't have launched an attack on Deeprock City the moment the people of Deeprock opened their mouths.

Deeprock City is hundreds of kilometers away from here, so it couldn't possibly have been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

This whole thing was a show of making an example of someone to scare others.

Olsen turned his head, his gaze sweeping over every face in the tent, and spoke in a calm tone:

"Who else wants to quit?"

No one spoke; everyone sat there, as if petrified.

After waiting a while and seeing that no one spoke, a satisfied smile appeared on his face, and his tone became gentle again:

"Then I wish us a pleasant cooperation."

He paused, as if to calm the emotions of those present, and then said slowly, "On behalf of the Bloodclaw Clan, I promise you all that after we take over the Silvermoon Clan, all our territories, resource points, and trade networks will be shared with you, distributed according to the amount of contribution each of us has made."

These words finally eased the tension in the tent.

The tension on everyone's faces eased slightly, and they exchanged a few glances.

They had actually wanted to take action against the Silvermoon Clan for a long time, but they had been hesitant to do so due to their own insufficient strength and lack of a basis for alliance.

Now that the Bloodclaw Clan is willing to take the lead, and with such an unprecedented wolf pack as their trump card, their chances of winning are undoubtedly much greater.

More importantly, what they just witnessed clearly showed them what the consequences of refusing to cooperate would be.

"I agree to this plan."

"Let's do as Elder Olsen says."

"Haha, I've wanted to kill those elves for a long time, and now I can finally get my wish."

In an instant, the atmosphere inside the tent came alive, like a frozen river surface thawing.

Everyone chimed in agreement.

Olsen watched this unfold, his smile deepening.

Now that an agreement has been reached, the next step is to discuss the details of the operation.

It wasn't until evening that the group of representatives left, their faces beaming with excitement, to go back and make preparations.

The tent quickly fell silent again.

Olsen remained seated in the same spot.

A figure appeared behind him without his noticing.

Olsen didn't turn around, he just chuckled softly.

"The plan is progressing smoothly. The representatives of those forces have all agreed. With their cooperation, our clan's advance into the eastern part of the continent will be much smoother, and annihilating the Silver Moon Clan will not be a problem."

The figure stepped forward, revealing its face and body in the light.

But it was Rexxar.

He glanced at Olsen and said in a deep voice, "The Silvermoon Clan is, after all, a vassal race of the Emerald Court. Bloodhowl Fortress cannot openly send troops, otherwise it will further escalate the war, which is not in line with our strategy. However, we will withstand the pressure from the Emerald Court for you and will not allow them to free up their hands to interfere in the affairs of the East."

Olsen smiled and nodded: "That's enough."

The Silvermoon Clan is, in essence, a newly promoted first-class power, while the Bloodclaw Clan is a long-established first-class power, far surpassing the Silvermoon Clan in terms of foundation and accumulation.

With the combined forces of many small and medium-sized powers in the Eastern Continent, annihilating the Silver Moon Clan would be more than enough.

If we could remove Anton, this pillar of strength, even earlier, dealing with the Silvermoon Clan would be much easier.

Seeing the confident look on Olsen's face, Rexxar's eyes flickered, but he said nothing more.

Over the years, the Jade Court has sent delegations to the Silvermoon Clan on several occasions to persuade them to join the war.

Upon receiving this intelligence, Bloodhowl Fortress took it very seriously.

If it were just an ordinary first-rate power, it wouldn't be enough to make Bloodhowl Fortress pay too much attention.

However, the Silver Moon Clan is different.

Those special flying vehicles that can traverse half a continent and directly deliver an entire army into enemy territory pose a tremendous threat.

Once it falls into the hands of the Jade Court, that thing could create a variable on the battlefield that could turn the tide of a local battle.

For this reason, the upper echelons of Bloodhowl Fortress quickly reached a consensus after several discussions.

The Silvermoon Clan, this destabilizing factor, must be eliminated as soon as possible.

Ideally, the manufacturing technology for that special flying vehicle, or at least the finished product itself, should be kept under the control of Bloodhowl Fortress.

In order to achieve this goal, they provided considerable support to the Bloodclaw Clan, greatly accelerating the progress of the Bloodclaw Project.