Chapter 169: Chapter 119: Reconnaissance Squad
On the Wasteland, the Jackal Wolfman Fortress, built like an armored vehicle, slowly decelerated and came to a stop.
"Wang Defa!" Percy swore, still shaken. "We actually ran into the Undead!"
"Calm down, Percy. Take it easy. They’re just the Undead. The one controlling them is probably a Human, just like us," Benjamin said with a smile, leaning back in his chair as he watched Percy pace anxiously.
"How can you still be smiling?! And how do you know a Human is controlling those Undead?" Percy stopped his pacing and frowned at Benjamin’s nonchalant attitude, his tone sharp.
Benjamin adjusted his collar, stood up, and walked over to Percy. "You should read more. It would teach you how to think."
Percy was in no mood for a lecture; he just wanted to know the source of this deduction. "Benjamin, what is it you know?"
Benjamin gave a smug smile. "Didn’t you see our prey take refuge among them? Those Undead were there to help him. They aren’t Natives—the Natives aren’t nearly this friendly to people like us."
"Gods, you’re right!" Percy cried out, recalling the scene. The sight of the Undead had made him panic, but Benjamin’s words made everything click into place.
Patting Percy’s shoulder, Benjamin said smugly, "Don’t worry. I’ve already made preparations."
Benjamin had figured it out during their escape. He, too, had been startled at the first sight of the Undead, but he’d calmed down during the retreat. He recalled that the Catman hadn’t been attacked when he charged into the undead horde. This meant the Undead weren’t what he’d initially thought. They were being controlled—they were the Catman’s reinforcements.
The Undead were nowhere near as fast as his fortress, so he had quickly lost the ones giving chase. Benjamin then secretly dispatched his Jackal Wolfmen with orders to track the Undead.
Benjamin’s Jackal Wolfmen were far more than simple soldiers who just fired their Firearms. His own rapid rise to power was built upon the versatility and ferocity of the Jackal Wolfman Race.
True Jackal Wolfmen are not cowards who rely on Firearms from a distance. They are ruthless Hunters of the Wasteland!
They have manes of dark yellow or deep red, giving them a bizarrely postmodern look. They stand over two meters tall and weigh over 120 kilograms on average. True nocturnal carnivores, they are fast runners and experts at flanking and encirclement. They possess sharp teeth with an astonishing bite force and prefer to attack with blunt weapons.
Furthermore, Jackal Wolfmen have companion beasts: Earth Wolves. Though slightly smaller, Earth Wolves are no less ferocious. Once they clamp down on their prey, they never let go, making them the Jackal Wolfmen’s finest helpers.
In addition to Warriors, the Jackal Wolfman Race includes Priests and other professions. When attacking in groups, they can even use a Summoning Technique to call upon Ogres or Giant Demons.
It was precisely because the Race under his command was so ferocious that Benjamin dared to engage in wanton Plundering across the Wasteland.
Dark clouds drifted slowly across the sky, pushed by the wind.
A dark yellow mane grew from its spine, fanning out over its shoulders and continuing to the top of its head, where the hairs stood stiffly on end. The Jackal Wolfman’s nose twitched. They possessed a sense of smell as keen as any dog’s, allowing them to clearly distinguish scents in the air. It raised its head, pointed a clawed finger, and the other Jackal Wolfmen immediately broke into a run in the direction indicated.
This was a Reconnaissance Squad composed of Jackal Wolfmen—though they preferred to call themselves a Tracking Squad. Each squad was made up of ten Jackal Wolfmen and five Earth Wolves, with their roles consisting of one captain, one Emergency Priest, three Archers, and six Jackal Wolf Warriors.
The members of the Tracking Squad were uniformly outfitted in Leather Armor, which offered decent Defense Power without hindering their movement.
The squad had received orders from the City Lord: track the Undead, find their location, determine their numbers, and identify any other hostiles.
This kind of mission was all too familiar. Ever since the Tracking Squads were formed, they had been carrying out these assignments in the Wasteland without a single mistake.
And this time, their targets were Undead. Beings made of bone were impossible to lose track of.
They were exceptional Hunters. As they ran across the Wasteland with their claws retracted, their padded feet hit the ground without a sound, barely kicking up any dust. Following the Undead’s path of retreat, they had already found the scattered tracks they’d left behind.
Unfortunately, the Jackal Wolfmen of the Tracking Squad never thought to look up. High above them, concealed by the dark clouds, several Ghosts drifted, watching the creatures on the ground in surprise.
"I think we’ve found the enemy, haven’t we?" one Human Ghost asked hesitantly, pulling his gaze from the ground to look at his companion.
"Mhm. Judging by their direction of travel, they’re heading for our territory," the other Human Ghost said, turning his head toward the Undead Fortress and nodding firmly.
He had just finished speaking when he paused, noticing two of their other companions rapidly floating away. "Where are you two going?" he couldn’t help but shout.
A voice drifted back from the distance. "We’ve spotted the enemy! We’re going to inform the Master of the Undead, of course!"
The Ghost who had asked the question froze for a moment, then ground his teeth and shook a fist. ’Damn it! Those two crafty bastards! I’ve been a Wandering Soul for so long my brain’s gone stiff. To think I forgot to be the first to inform the Master of the Undead... they beat me to it!’
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