The officer who tried to stop him shouted harshly, but Juan didn't even turn his head and could only helplessly turn away.
As soon as he turned his head, he saw a blood-colored long spear coming towards him. He tried his best to dodge, but he didn't have that kind of power.
The long spear pierced directly through his skull, pinning him to the nearby building.
A figure leapt over the wall, crashing down heavily next to the corpse, and pulled out the spear.
A slender tongue licked the blood and the white jelly-like substance on it.
"Hmm, the taste is not bad." It was a burly Blood Race Warrior, with a ferocious and arrogant expression.
Opposite the fortress.
There were the camps of the Blood Race, with many of their soldiers gathered around. Some of them continuously rushed towards the fortress.
They intended to launch incessant attacks, not giving the soldiers within the fortress any chance to catch their breath.
Martin sat inside the camp.
