Chapter 592: Desperate Battle

"Pretty boy?" The long-haired beastfolk blinked: "My name isn't Pretty Boy, but a lowly shaman like you from a petty tribe doesn't deserve to know my name."

The Pretty Boy beastfolk looked at Wu Yue and the others with contempt, his face full of blatant disdain.

Wu Yue's mouth twitched; she wanted to say that "Pretty Boy" wasn't a name but an insult, but after thinking, she chose silence.

After all, we're not from the same era; explaining would be a hassle, so let him think that way.

The next moment, the Pretty Boy beastfolk perfectly exemplified what it means to say the harshest words with the most handsome face.

He lazily waved his hand, his arrogant gaze directed at Wu Yue and the others: "Come on, kill them quickly so we can go back and eat meat; I still need to go soak in water."

The scarred Huo Teng Tribe beastman warrior, hearing this, directly led the beastfolk behind him in a charge toward the few opposite.

The auras of over a dozen Gold-tier Beastmen erupted simultaneously, affecting the surrounding forest trees, each bending its waist as if submitting to the strong.

As the beastfolk chieftain, the Scarred Beastman's aura was the most overbearing; even from such a distance, Wu Yue could feel the wind carrying that aura brush her cheeks, bringing a faint sting.

With his right hand slightly extended, an ancient, mysterious shaman's staff instantly appeared in his hand.

The antiquely shaped shaman's staff lightly tapped the ground, and a shamanic power instantly enveloped the nearby beastfolk, a shamanic blessing.

Yuan Lang and the others only felt their bodies loosen, as the pressure like a collapsing snow mountain from the opposite side instantly dissipated.

Wiping sweat from his temple, he darted forward to meet the leading Scarred Beastman.

Teng Qian and the others followed closely, unwilling to be outdone.

"Boom!"

A tremor-inducing roar erupted from the battlefield and suddenly spread in all directions.

Wu Yue, who had already deployed a defensive barrier, stood calmly; the grass inside her barrier remained lush and vibrant, forming a stark contrast with the deep, exposed earth around her from the battle.

In the distance, the long-haired beastfolk narrowed his almond eyes, his gaze toward Wu Yue faintly glowing.

He glanced at the slender figure beside him wrapped in a shimmering dark-blue robe: "This tribe's shaman has decent defensive skills; once their beastfolk are all slain, we'll capture this tribe's shaman for questioning and bring this shamanic art back to Father—he'll surely be delighted."

The slender figure bowed: "My lord, knowing you've brought back such fine shamanic art, he will certainly be very pleased."

Receiving the slender figure's affirmation, the long-haired beastfolk's gaze toward Wu Yue—and more precisely, toward her surrounding barrier—grew ever more fervent.

"Be careful, don't injure that tribe's shaman."

The long-haired beastfolk's voice wasn't loud, but unlike before, it now carried an strange penetrative quality, more melodious and entrancing, reaching the ears of every beastfolk engaged in combat.

Upon hearing this, Yuan Lang and the others' faces turned cold, their eyes filling with several people's ferocious killing intent.

They did not believe that such an order from this young beastfolk could stem from any goodwill.

Meanwhile, the Scarred Beastman and his companions remained utterly calm; as beastfolk warriors, they could not harm shamans anyway, so the other side's request was essentially meaningless.

"Thud!"

The fierce combat produced dull thuds of flesh striking flesh; Yuan Lang glanced indifferently at the retreating Scarred Beastman, his heart slightly sinking.

The opponent's strength was clearly superior; it seemed he had been a Gold-tier Beastman for years, having advanced via shamanic infusion.

Meanwhile, the Scarred Beastman's arms trembled slightly at his side, making his chest feel as if struck by a boulder; he gazed solemnly at the Snow Moon Tribe beastfolk likewise retreating.

The shaman said the Snow Moon Tribe had only one newly advanced Gold-tier Beastman, yet that beastman's strength was absurdly strong—he himself already possessed peak Gold-tier strength.

Moreover...

He glanced around the three battlefields; there, the beastfolk warriors he had brought were besieging the other three Snow Moon Tribe beastfolk warriors.

Judging by their emitted auras, these three were actually Gold-tier Beastman warriors as well.

The shaman was mistaken; this little tribe is far from as simple as it appears on the surface.

However, as a guardian beastfolk of the shaman, he did not question the shaman's authority.

Clenching his fists, the Scarred Beastman roared and charged again toward the white-haired beastfolk opposite.

Yuan Lang wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, let out a low shout, and stepped forward, bending to dodge the opponent's seemingly wind-shattering heavy punch; as he turned, a whip kick whistled past, striking the opponent's waist.

"Thud!"

Another impact of limbs colliding; upon sensing the opponent's attack, the Scarred Beastman instantly tensed his waist muscles, then swiftly dodged, but his flank was inevitably struck.

Stumbling back with repeated thuds, he planted his foot hard on the ground, flickered his form, and an iron-like fist, carrying a breaking-wind roar, smashed toward Yuan Lang's head.

Yuan Lang crossed his arms before his chest; accompanied by a sharp pain, his body was suddenly flung backward.

The Scarred Beastman let no chance for severe injury slip by; he sneered, flashed forward to follow up, and threw another punch at his opponent.

Not far away, Wu Yue exclaimed in alarm: "Tongzi, Yuan Lang is in danger—do we have any items to exchange for... huh?"

Before her words finished, Yuan Lang's body, which had seemed uncontrollably flying backward, underwent a strange twist; the arms that had just been heavily struck oddly wrapped around the Scarred Beastman's arms, and his body then, via an inconceivable rotation, ended up on the Beastman's back.

The next instant, those arms that had been utterly soft suddenly bulged; the Scarred Beastman tried to struggle but could muster no strength, as if an entire towering mountain pressed down on him, and he gasped in shock.

Why had this beastfolk's strength suddenly become so terrifying?

Accompanied by a grating, teeth‑aching crack, the Scarred Beastman let out a mournful howl.

Perhaps the cry was too miserable; the three surrounding battle rings halted in unison and quickly separated.

The Huo Teng Tribe folk followed the sound and gazed over; their pupils involuntarily contracted instantly.

Their chieftain was currently being suppressed by the opposing white‑haired beastfolk, his arms bent backward in an eerie posture, his body forming a chilling arc behind him.

At this moment, his mouth continued to emit that mournful howl.

What shocked them was that, after the white‑haired beastfolk released their chieftain, his cold eyes instantly turned toward them.

The beastfolk felt their scalps explode, and they involuntarily began to swallow saliva.

"Kill! Kill him! Ah! Kill him, don't forget the shaman's words!"

The Scarred Beastman bellowed with blood‑red eyes; his words reminded the controlled crowd of the terror of the medicine shaman, suppressing somewhat their fear of Yuan Lang.