Chapter 463: The Great Flood

"Go check, check where the explosion came from! Why does this lord feel like, like it's from underground? Could it be that the beard-things have developed shells with, with extreme yields?"

Ikit Claw stood before a device the size of two rats lying flat, calling out to his assistant while continuously loading refined Warpstone Coin into the device's power component.

"Snap!"

"By the Horned Rat, the, the newly updated lens, why is the astigmatism so, so severe!"

Looking at the bizarre detection results on the screen, Ikit could not help but fiercely slap the right side of his face, which was covered by an exoskeleton.

"This? Why is it still two, two energy clusters? The size, it seems, is also not quite the same; could the interpupillary distance be, be problematic? No, no! This big one is, is very close to me! And, and it's getting closer!"

"Report! Director, water! Water! There's a flood!"

"Water? Where did the water come from?"

"Don't know! Perhaps it's, it's from the lake above?"

"Trash! Pig! Go notify this lord, notify... Forget it, notify my ass! Retreat! Quickly!"

The technical director of Clan Skryre possessed rich knowledge and experience brought by the extremely long life of that rat-kind; once he came to his senses, he realized what that larger energy cluster might mean—

Legend had it that that fellow had the whitest beard among all the beard-things from ancient times to the present; the reason it was only a legend, of course, was because every rat that dared to face him directly had not survived to recount the truth.

"Retreat? Then, then the equipment?"

"Five, no, three minutes! If you can take it, take it, otherwise, blow it up! Use, use Warp lightning! Use the strength you'd use to steal milk, and if there's any more, more nonsense, you go detonate it!"

Ikit paced anxiously while staring at the movement of the light sphere; a Demigod was strong but not invincible. A large group of Stormvermin entangling him, followed by a massive volley of Warp-lock Jezzail fire, could still suppress him. But now, the lines of Clan Mors were in disarray, and he did not want to risk wading into this muddy water.

"Big Boss, big, big trouble! The beard-things detonated, detonated multiple water-blocking layers! The water from the Silver Abyss is pouring, pouring in!"

"How can this be? Sinuoli, it must be Sinuoli! Normal beard-things can't, can't do this kind of thing! Which, which areas are affected? Give me, mark them on the map for me!"

"Report! The beast pen has, has been washed away! Lord Throt the Unclean is, is missing!"

"Report! Granary number two has been flooded!"

"Report..."

"Bad! Quick, transfer quickly! They must have a backup plan!"

The messenger entered the command post with one piece of bad news after another; Warlord Genuoduoer did not have time to deal with them one by one, but seeing the swarming rat heads, he realized the crisis.

The successive leaders of Clan Mors had formulated a set of diversionary strategies to hide the location of their command post, but the special situation of the massive flood caused a significant proportion of the responsible rats to rush over to report in a panic, which would expose his location.

"Transfer? You beast, did you ask my axe? The grudge of the villains who usurped Eight Peaks will be settled today!"

Before the words fell, the secret door inlaid with Warpstone runes was slashed open, and a figure with immense pressure strode in, stepping over the rising dust.

He wore a suit of exotic armor, his purple cloak moving without wind behind him, his hands holding a battle axe with flowing runes, and snow-white hair and beard spilling out from under his battle helm.

In the more than a month of fighting prior, the Dwarf had locked onto several possible command post locations, and taking advantage of the chaos brought by the explosions and water seepage, they had killed their way to the heart of Clan Mors.

"Whether it is you or your followers, all must die! This is my oath, and my kin shall witness it personally! Sons of the Mountains, follow me to kill the enemy!"

The White Dwarf's vigorous roar stirred echoes in the hall; behind him was an elite assault team composed of Slayers and Ironbreakers, and fighting beside the most legendary hero made every Dwarf high in morale.

"What are you stunned for? Go, go! Hold them off!"

Under Genuoduoer's urging, a large group of Stormvermin wearing scarlet heavy armor and holding sharp halberds pushed up. This Warlord's personal guard was the most ferocious bunch in all of Clan Mors, having achieved this status only after being tempered a thousand times and repeatedly proving their ability and loyalty.

"Hmph!"

"Swish! Swish!"

The White Dwarf's eyes, like two steel awls, were nailed firmly onto the Warlord's grey-white rat body, the divine axe in his palm flying left and right, as if entering a place without rats. It looked like a leisurely stroll, but it was actually a deadly assault.

"Boom—!"

Genuomu-Suiluozhe swung his arm, and the Ironbreakers threw their Thunder Tubes in unison; the explosion in the relatively narrow space caused instant, heavy damage to the shooters who were attempting to assemble Warpstone firearms.

A brief hesitation caused Genuoduoer to lose the best chance to escape—besides having expectations for his personal guards, he also knew that running away in this situation meant that Clan Mors would find it difficult to organize an effective defense system again.

"Chuan, Chuanquailuo, must go find, find him!"

"Whoosh! Crack!"

Seeing the defensive line being broken through as quickly as cutting wheat, the old rat pressed the mechanism on the armrest, wanting to move the seat to reveal a secret passage, but a Chain Axe flew out and jammed the gap that had opened halfway.

"Well done! Lad of the Dragonbeard Clan, their doomsday has arrived!"

When they heard the explosion from underground, the knowledgeable commanders on the front line were invigorated, and at the same time, the momentum of the Evil Moon Tribe's counter-charge began to gradually weaken.

The appearance of the Gorkamorka Colossus certainly made the Greenskins fall into a frenzy, but no matter how frenzied, relying on Night Goblins—who excelled at stabbing in the dark—as the main force to frontally crush a Dwarf army supported by large amounts of Artillery was too difficult.

"Pass my order, the whole army attacks!"

Sinuoli keenly noticed this and issued the order for a general offensive. The underground assault force was limited in scale, and without the support of the main force, it would be difficult to expand the results.

"Duang! Duang!"

Belegar Ironhammer was at the very front of the line; he was covered in blood but high in spirit, standing on the Oath Stone and forcefully striking the Shield of Resistance with his ancestral HolyHammer; the sound of the two treasures colliding could still attract the attention of most people on the extremely noisy battlefield.

"The lost tomb of the Angrund Clan is already in sight! Can we watch these Greenskin scumbags get away, letting them take our ancestral treasures to continue doing evil? No, absolutely not! The revenge has begun! The Grudge must be settled!"

"Forward! Forward! The great Grimbrindal has already succeeded, how can we fall behind!"

Sinuoli held the Great Book of Grudges in one hand and swung his divine hammer with the other, pointing straight ahead. The savage divine power lingering on the Gorkamorka Colossus had been worn away significantly, and waste materials began to constantly crumble off its crude body; it was time to move this stumbling block.

"Squeak-ahhhhh! This, what is this ghost thing? Where exactly did it go wrong? No, no! It's not a mistake! There must be a rat calculating, calculating against me, Chuanquailuo!"