Chapter 327: Fighting Queek (Part I)

Considering the potential tactics of poisoning or sabotage, Sinuoli specifically arranged a team to protect the water source and food storage, but it turned out he was overthinking it; the elder Genuoduoer, worried that Clan Eshin would interfere, did not incorporate them into Queek's team.

As the large candles on the ceiling were replaced, sounds of footsteps and "squeaking" echoed outside the fortress. The warriors quickly formed up behind the low wall, and Belegar Ironhammer's Oath Stone was carried out once again.

This Oath Stone was also a treasured heirloom of the Angrund Clan, a stone pedestal carved with the clan's lineage and glorious deeds in Dwarf runes. Standing on this Oath Stone could steady a lord's resolve and ensure that all enemies would notice him first thing to come up and meet their deaths.

Belegar's eyes beneath his helmet met Sinuoli's briefly; he was asking whether to hand over command. The King of the Southlands shook his head; there were only so many men, and the combat objective was very clear—just hold the line and defend it.

"Your experience in this regard is richer than mine. My men and I will act as a detached force, lest the rats use some underhanded tricks."

It would be overkill for the Slayer Brotherhood to deal with cannon fodder; it would be better to wait until the Skaven elites appeared. If possible, Sinuoli still wanted to lead them in another attempt to kill Queek.

"Envoy of the Divine Thurni, may I ask if this treasure should continue to be controlled by me or handed over to you?"

Up front, Belegar stepped onto the Oath Stone with the help of his guard, and behind him walked up an Ancestor Spirit. Sinuoli naturally knew this last of the four grandfathers, Thoroni Ironbrow, once a Rune Master of Karak-Azul.

He was a distant relative and close friend of King Luen. Upon learning the news that Eight Peaks was likely to fall, he led his Anvil Guard and apprentices to leave Tiefengbao and risk traveling north through the Earth Vein Network to help his relatives in distress.

At the final moment, he and the Rune Masters of Eight Peaks sealed the Ancestor tombs and important vaults together, but unfortunately, after the deed was done, they were blocked by the enemy and could never return to their homeland. Now, Thoroni had been awakened, wielding the anvil he had brought out back then to provide help to Belegar.

"You do it; every anvil has its own characteristics, and it would take time for me to get used to operating it." Sinuoli declined; he had been busy studying the spirit veins these past few years, and his runic skills had become somewhat rusty.

"Clanrats right from the start, lads, keep your spirits up!" Belegar Ironhammer stood high and saw far; he shouted a warning to his subordinates.

"Prepare for battle! Little Beards!" King Luen was also shouting.

Sinuoli yielded the front-line position; he prepared to observe Belegar's capabilities first, while waiting for an opportunity. The Dwarfs saw the approaching tide of rats, the dense, glowing red eyes possessing an extraordinary sense of oppression in the darkness.

"Respected Ancestor Chosen, could you lead everyone in a prayer? These children have never faced real war before." Lady Ainiya's soft voice pulled Sinuoli's thoughts back.

The mistress of Keladeluomen had also put on her armor; the upper body was a standard breastplate, while the lower body was tasset armor. She and a team of Brass Guard and handmaidens brought from her maiden family were protecting the women and children at the very rear.

Sinuoli looked back and saw several little Dwarfs crying softly; their mothers, grandmothers, and the older or braver children around them were comforting them.

As Sinuoli approached, the immediate family of the crying children looked embarrassed. To behave so unseemly in front of the Ancestor Chosen would, at the very least, be a disgrace to themselves, and at worst, would make the clan's ancestors unable to hold their heads up in the halls of Gazul.

"Grown-ups, say, say that you are here, that the ancestors are here, and that everything will be alright—is it true?" a little girl asked with a sob, seemingly having been pinched secretly, her words getting stuck halfway.

"Hmm, I think so!" Sinuoli mused; he knew that compared to those famous quotes and grand principles about bravery and strength, a direct affirmation was the most comforting thing at a time like this.

"My name is Zhanruike, and I'll be an adult soon! May I join your team and follow you? Back at Tongshanbao, I was the bravest among my peers! I want to participate in today's battle, but Grandma won't agree!"

A boy who had just grown stubble stood out; he broke free from his grandmother's restraint, held his head high, and looked at Sinuoli with full expectation.

"Hahaha, good lad! How about this: if you don't close your eyes in fear tonight, I'll count it as you passing."

While they were speaking, the Skaven vanguard had already engaged the Dwarfs. Under the threat of the sharp halberds behind them, the Clanrats brandished their crude weapons and launched a desperate charge against the shield wall.

Clan Mors would not pity the lives of these small clans, but if they showed ability and performed meritorious service, they might be rewarded. One must know that after Sinuoli's airborne strike during the day, quite a few good positions had opened up.

"Clang, clang, clang!" Belegar struck his shield with the Warhammer in his right hand, triggering the runes on both legendary weapons.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Today is a good day; today we shall slaughter the Skaven! Today we shall settle the grudge of Clan Mors! The Chosen of the Ancestor Gods is by our side, and they are watching us too!" The master of Eight Peaks made a passionate war mobilization.

"Bang!"

"Crack!"

"Thud!"

"Pop-pop!"

The clash of weapons, the roar of firearms and artillery, the muffled thuds of blunt weapons smashing into flesh, the loud war cries of the Dwarfs, and the shrill shrieks of the Skaven filled the entire hall at once.

Sinuoli looked at the little ones beside him; some buried their heads in their mothers' arms, while others watched the battle, then turned away. Zhanruike, however, kept his eyes fixed on the front, looking eager to try.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

Suddenly, Sinuoli heard a familiar movement; it was the sound of Warpstone Jezzails firing. He had experienced the power of this thing just that day. Without a doubt, the target of this projectile was the most conspicuous Belegar Ironhammer.

"He shouldn't be standing."

"."

Sinuoli subconsciously reached for his warhammer, but then withdrew his hand. Belegar had, after all, been fighting in Eight Peaks for many years; he had been standing on the Oath Stone and surviving until today, so there was no need for him to worry.

"No! No! Don't, don't waste, waste ammunition on him!"

Queek stopped the Bofeng Skaven from firing. These Jezzail gunners were horrified to find that the living target standing on the stone had simply blocked the volley with a light cover of the strange shield in his left hand, rendering the attack invisible.

"As expected of the Shield of Resistance, the pinnacle of Golden Age Fuweng-Jishu." Sinuoli praised; according to the records in the guild, it was almost impossible to break its defense without the strength of a Demigod.