Boiling Beast Bloodline-Chapter 1265 - 349 Treasure Imam_2

Armor and strength were indeed the greatest assets of the Feilengcui Warriors—unique throughout the Pan Continent. Even with such assets, they couldn’t withstand the onslaught of the Summer Palace Warriors because the powerful air force that Feilengcui heavily invested in was the heaviest weight on the scales of victory.

Less than a thousand Bimon warriors swarmed into the Caliph Royal City; they were all part of Feilengcui’s seasoned core forces and were aided by such powerful allies as the Panta Warriors. Apart from the Mammoth Cavalry dispatched to clear the streets, all other mighty warriors and royal guards made their grand entrance today. Nearly three hundred of them donned the Crown Thorns Armor, brandishing heavy weapons—so intimidating that even the Mulanese, wielding twelve-pound scimitars, were embarrassed to face them.

One hundred seventy-eight Panda warriors and three hundred fifty-six Antelope warriors—the two strongest warrior factions from east and west—were all skilled in long-range attacks. Whether with lance or Kuerke Flying Blade, the carnage they wreaked was without compare. The pandas could throw their lances twice within two hundred paces, landing to pierce the shields, pass through multiple bodies, and bury into the ground. The antelopes’ flying blades could be thrown and then circled back into their hands, perfect for decapitating their enemies.

The Mulanese inside the royal city were unprepared, to begin with, and meeting this group of hellish stars—especially the fire-breathing Panda warriors—caused them to scatter chaotically as if they had encountered real demons. In no time, they were driven into complete disarray.

All over the city walls and in front of the palace square, Mulanese soldiers scurried in all directions, uncoordinated, without orders, like headless flies and roaches. The Feilengcui warriors, too, dispersed with a boom, exterminating enemy groups in small factions. In such chaotic battles, no one enjoyed it more than the Bimon warriors with their bizarrely lengthy and heavy weapons and large attack radii.

Two small detachments of troops desperately shielded the Imam, using Peng-brand huge shields and three-meter-long Sulan spears to erect a barrier at the foot of the palace steps, leaning against the stairwell walls in the hope of delaying the Bimon Army’s advance, buying time to gather more survivors. Inside the royal city, there was a well-stocked armory; although the Caliph’s knife wielders had perished alongside Ali Dai Yi Yabusan at the Suwit Oasis, there were still three thousand strong and able eunuchs who practiced swordplay and staff combat. If only they had time to regroup, they might have been able to turn the tide of the battle.

Their plan sounded feasible, but the spear formation made up of Peng-brand shields was but a single rush from a hundred Bimon warriors, leaving behind a pile of broken wooden shards and dismembered corpses. Five Serrated Crescent Blades were still embedded in the stone wall, trembling and shaking off droplets of blood.

Before another shield formation had time to react, the Summer Palace Warriors unleashed another devastating move—a dragon tail sweep that broke through like a tide breaches a ditch, leaving behind another sprawl of mutilated bodies. The sparse Sulan spears stood no chance against the Crown Thorns Armor; many Mulan soldiers were sent flying by the impact. Before they could land, they were turned into sieves by the rain of lances and flying blades, pinning them against the stairs behind them.

The heavy tread of the Bimon warriors stomped over injured Mulanese, like rhinos trampling a tomato field, making crunchy, crushing sounds. The Imams ran headlong in terror, only to find themselves surrounded in the center, desperate and with no way out, unless they could burrow into the ground.

What truly terrified the Imams was witnessing tall warriors, barbaric as titans, with Crown Thorns Armor, their barbs still embedded with chunks of flesh resembling hedgehogs ready for winter with bodies full of berries. Their armor was dull and stained with the dark red of chronic blood absorption, and their gazes were cold and bloodthirsty, reminiscent of vultures hovering over corpses on the ground.

Liu Zhenhan, armored head to toe, stood imposingly with Guoguo, Katusha, and the little parrot in the center of the palace square, basking in the thrill of victory.

The sky was covered in dark clouds, with twirling pillars resembling black pythons, sparking arcs of electricity and hazy flames, casting the gilded royal city into intermittent luminance—a harbinger of an imminent storm.

The royal palace of the Caliph’s city, merging Mulan, Moya, and Gelan styles, spanned several sections, with each one grander than the last, in an imposing and luxurious array of red walls and glittering tiles. Every gallery column was engraved with elegant women; any artist would consider these a fine example of delicate lines and touching artistry. But in the eyes of the worldly Liu Zhenhan, these were nothing more than a collection of lewd and vulgar displays of promiscuity, although he did have a liking for such style.

Palace maids screamed, their hands covering their faces, while eunuchs scrambled desperately. The steps were littered with bloodstains of various shapes, and even the flying eaves of the front hall were dripping with strands of blood, the entire square carpeted with the bodies of the slain.

The battle atop the city wall was nearing its end, and with the inclusion of the melee giants Bertil and Gerein, the slaughter had begun to lose its meaning. Without magic, facing super-level Warcraft in a head-on fight, low-level soldiers had no reason to take part.

A few Mulan Imams looked on, terrified, at the warrior who was evidently the leader, their gazes flickering like candles in the wind.

"Who... who are you..." the eldest and whitest-bearded Imam mustered the courage to ask.