Chapter 588 Ambush 4

Chapter 588: Chapter 588 Ambush 4

They didn’t need to wait for their ambushers to make the first move.

The Tigrens were never the type to sit back and patiently wait for an enemy to reveal their hand. They were hot-blooded by nature, and when confronted with an enemy, their first instinct was to tear into them rather than stand around devising elaborate strategies.

The moment they received the command, they attacked whoever crossed their path.

Claws flashed.

Blades were drawn.

Roars and screams erupted through the forest as the battlefield finally exploded into chaos.

But the enemies hiding within the shadows weren’t afraid either.

The moment the Tigrens charged, they emerged from their hiding places and lunged forward without the slightest hesitation, seemingly unconcerned about death. Rather than confronting the Tigrens individually, they immediately began concentrating their numbers on single targets, swarming them from every direction.

It was like a cluster of ants throwing themselves at an elephant.

One Tigren might be powerful enough to crush several opponents alone, but against a relentless tide of enemies attacking from all sides, even their overwhelming strength would eventually be put to the test.

More importantly, the Tigrens couldn’t shift into their beast forms. They had been drugged, their bodies weakened, and their strength was steadily being drained. For the attackers, this was the perfect opportunity to finish them off.

Most of the attackers were rogue werewolves, and now they threw themselves at the weakened Tigrens in their wolf forms, moving with the savage hunger of feral beasts. Claws raked across flesh, jaws snapped down on limbs, and whenever one of the Tigrens exposed an opening, the rogues pounced without hesitation, tearing chunks of flesh from their bodies.

"Ugh!" A Tigren warrior grunted as his legs suddenly felt heavy. His limbs weren’t responding with the same explosive strength they normally possessed, and for a split second, his defense faltered.

That was all the rogue needed.

The wolf lunged through the opening and sank its fangs into his arm, violently ripping away a piece of flesh.

"Get off me!" The Tigren warrior roared, swinging his massive blade with brutal force. The weapon cleaved through the rogue werewolf’s body, splitting it in two and sending its blood spraying across the ground.

But there was no time to breathe.

He was surrounded by six rogues.

Now there were five.

Under normal circumstances, five rogue werewolves would have been little more than a nuisance to a Tigren warrior. Their natural strength and physical prowess should have allowed him to tear through them with ease.

But the drug was still coursing through his body.

His muscles felt sluggish. His movements were heavier, his reactions slower, and every swing of his massive blade demanded far more effort than it should have.

It felt as though his fighting strength had been cut in half.

And the rogues knew it.

They weren’t trying to overpower him head-on anymore.

They were waiting for him to weaken further, circling him like starving wolves before lunging at every opening they could find.

"This won’t do. Our people can’t shift into their Tigren forms, and they still haven’t purged the toxins from their bodies. We’re at a severe disadvantage..." The Priestess spoke through gritted teeth as she looked around the battlefield.

Everywhere she looked, she saw the same thing.

The Tigrens were being pushed back.

It was becoming increasingly clear that their enemy had devised this entire assault long before the battle began. They weren’t simply trying to overwhelm the Tigrens through sheer numbers. They were deliberately isolating individual warriors, pinning them down, and wearing them out one group at a time.

Slowly, methodically, they were dismantling the Tigren formation.

Fortunately, the Deputy Chieftain had recognized the danger and immediately ordered his warriors to reinforce anyone who was being overwhelmed. Those who were too badly wounded were dragged back toward the core of the formation before the rogues could finish them off.

But even that was proving difficult.

These rogues fought as though they were death warriors who had already thrown away their lives. They didn’t care if they were going to die as long as they could take a Tigren down with them.

They charged without hesitation, even when a Tigren’s blade was already swinging toward them. Some were cleaved apart and still tried to sink their claws into their target before they died. Others latched onto their enemies like starving beasts, refusing to release their grip until either they or their prey stopped moving.

They fought like feral animals.

Yet the Tigrens were not inexperienced warriors. They had fought countless races throughout their long history, and that wealth of battle experience was the only reason they had managed to hold the line this long.

But the Priestess knew they couldn’t keep relying on that.

This was not a sustainable battle.

They were outnumbered. Their bodies were still being weakened by the toxins. They couldn’t access their Tigren forms, which meant they were being forced to fight without one of their greatest advantages.

And worse, their enemy knew this terrain far better than they did.

The rogues moved through the trees and dense undergrowth with an almost unnatural familiarity, attacking from angles the Tigrens hadn’t anticipated before vanishing back into the forest. Every part of the terrain was being used against them: the thick bushes that concealed attackers, the uneven ground that disrupted their footing, and the narrow passages that prevented the Tigrens from properly utilizing their numbers.

The Priestess’s expression grew increasingly grim.

Then she felt it.

More hostile presences.

And they were coming their way.

"More of them are coming..." Her voice was low, but the tension in it was unmistakable.

The enemy wasn’t running out of warriors.

They were sending in more.

Which only showed that their attackers had not only scouted the terrain along this route beforehand, but also had far more manpower than they did. No matter how many enemies they managed to kill here, they had no way of knowing how many more death warriors were still waiting in the shadows, men and women willing to throw away their own lives simply to take theirs, fighting like lunatics who had no fear of death.

And that was the most dangerous part.

No matter how strong they were, even powerful warriors had their limits. Their strength and stamina would eventually run out. Against an enemy who was seemingly willing to sacrifice as many lives as necessary just to drag them down, even the strongest among them could eventually be overwhelmed.

"What do we do then?" the Deputy Chieftain asked the Priestess through the mindlink, his face tightening with anger as he watched his warriors fall one after another.

If he hadn’t ordered the other warriors to cover those who were being swarmed, they would have already lost several of them by now. Never in his life had he felt this helpless. He was a warrior and the Deputy Chieftain of the clan, yet here he could do little but watch as his people were slowly being worn down.

His frustration boiled into anger, but he couldn’t simply leave the Priestess’s side. Their enemies could be waiting for an opportunity to launch another ambush, and without their Chieftain, the one who normally served as the brain of their clan, they couldn’t afford to let anything happen to the second person they relied on most for strategy.