My Players Are So Fierce – Handsome dog Frank
Chapter 1342 - 453. Poor Hog, what’s the point in ruling over a bunch of crippled and inferior breeds? - [Extra 20/25]_2

Chapter 1342: 453. Poor Hog, what’s the point in ruling over a bunch of crippled and inferior breeds? - [Extra 20/25]_2

They hoped to rediscover the glory and power of the King of Bone Biting, yet were unwilling to take even a tiny step of action towards it.

Each Military Governor only thought of preserving their own power, letting others deplete theirs, treating the ancient relic mentioned in legendary tales as mere ludicrous gossip, completely oblivious to the power that the King of Bone Biting relied upon to overturn the world during the Black Disaster...

As humanity began to arm its minions with cannons and muskets, they were still immersed in the illusory victory brought by the pitiful advantage in numbers.

Cowards!

A bunch of cowards!

Tear Flesh grew more agitated as he spoke.

In the end, it turned into a scathing criticism of the inaction of the Wolf Peoples’ Military Governor clans, like an angry and helpless old Wolf Person cynic, while his confused apprentice could only obediently stay there, pretending to listen attentively, though the apprentice didn’t care about any of this.

He was a Wolf Person, politics and grand trends were never his forte, more interested in the power contained within the "Black Disaster" itself than the foolishness of the Military Governors and the outcome of the Black Disaster.

In fact, Tear Flesh also knew that, as he grew older, his control over the clan was increasingly faltering.

These talented and cunning youngsters longed for him to choke on breakfast or suddenly have a heart attack while using the toilet, eager to ascend to demonstrate their power, yet completely disregarding the arduous quest through which Tear Flesh had secured the path of power for the Pestilence Clan years ago.

Even knowing this, Tear Flesh could no longer suppress these perverse thoughts.

He had reached the twilight years of a Wolf Person’s life, where the cold hand of time was stealing away his already scant energy, cruelly reminding him of his grand ambitions and forcing him to adopt even more brutal methods to maintain control over his clan.

Now, Tear Flesh’s greatest worry was whether his apprentices would be able to manage the small stretch of land and the modicum of influence the Pestilence Clan had fought over for thirty years after his death?

These youngsters, ruthless and malicious, showed stark lack of wisdom in leadership and governance, thinking no further than immediate gains, and these Jackal Warlocks armed with Spiritual Energy seemed indistinguishable from their ordinary Wolf People kinsmen.

Ordinary Wolf People were trapped by hunger, while his clan struggled in a vortex of power.

Looking at the young Magician before him, respectfully on the surface, utterly disrespectful in essence, the helplessness in Tear Flesh’s murky eyes grew more evident.

In this moment, he felt profoundly weary; after a lifetime of effort, he still hadn’t found a proper successor who knew how to wield wisdom...

These fellows were even worse than that Transian scum!

That loutish little Wolf Person called Hog.

From the moment Tear Flesh first encountered him, he knew Hog was a sly member of the Wolf People, rare to encounter in a century. He could even guess that Hog might have played a dubious role in the death of Plague Tooth, but he genuinely admired Hog’s cunning and did not urge himself to probe further.

What a pity.

A pity that this scum wasn’t born in the Dark Mountain Range; born in a wretched place like Transia, his bloodline meant Hog could never reach the upper echelons of Wolf People civilization, much less rise and lead a clan.

"Get out."

Tear Flesh, somewhat listless, waved his hand and chided his apprentice:

"Go and tell Lame Claw to speed up the creation of the remaining thirteen Netherworld Knights. Once the hundred knights are rested, we’ll enter the Swamp Forbidden Area.

We must finish this task before the Transia People break through the triple defensive line near Pestilence Town. We will return to Dark Mountain Range with the remains of the King of Bone Biting and his secrets, and integrate the power of the Pestilence Clan into the collective of the Black Disaster.

We will come back.

By then, you can shed your restraints and unleash the destructive power you control over this land that does not belong to us, but for now, I need you to focus.

I need you to be fully prepared to face the Legendary Creature."

His apprentice did not dare to object and obediently retreated.

In the highest chamber of the Wizard Tower, when he was left alone, the old Magician meticulously completed his alchemical process, placing his strangely colored concoctions into his personal Spiritual Energy hide bag, and then returned to his resting place.

He did not sleep, but once again picked up the pearl bracelet to contact "Origin", his delay in entering the Swamp Forbidden Area partly because he was waiting for "reinforcements."

The Spiritual Energy communication took a long time; minutes later, it finally connected, but the voice that answered Tear Flesh was not Lord Source, but another man.

Sunny, cheerful, and gentle in tone, it was not what one would expect from a Heretic.

He said:

"I’m already on my way, I will cross Lake Xiuerpres and enter the swamp tomorrow night. Are you in such a hurry?"

"I just wanted to confirm one last time."

Tear Flesh replied wearily:

"If you come alone, what help could you possibly offer against the Legendary Creature on the battlefield? I understand the power of the Twilight forces, but you are just a servant."

"You see, nobody likes to hear that, Master Tear Flesh."

The man on the other end responded unhappily: