The Prophet Tangul leaned against the huge screaming clock. He stared fiercely at the spacious room, and at the vast ocean outside with the dirty and squalid faces of ratmen. Around him, Tangul felt a surge in activity, and smelled the crowds of crowded, lacking combat forces gathered in the surrounding tunnels. All the fighters of the Scarab clan are here, reinforced by a contingent of all powerful factions in the Ratman Kingdom. It feels good to be away from the sewers and go back to the underground passage here, back to the underground passage connecting all the cities under the Marnus Empire. This is good, but now he can not have fun from it. He was so angry.

He struggled with this feeling and reminded himself that somewhere far away, humans were busy with their own affairs, arable land, deforestation, unknowingly, unsuspecting, unaware that the days of their rule were almost over Soon their cities and empire would fall under the iron claws of the Ratman military genius. Even these thoughts can cheer him up or help him dispel anger.

He pressed the clock with his paws, making a slight bell, but still trying to control his anger. Zhong swayed slightly under the prophet's touch, and the carriage carrying this ancient artwork groaned as it moved. The magical energy boiling in the clock comforted Tangul. Before long, he told himself that he would release these powerful forces against his enemies. Soon, he hoped, but now he was full of terrible, devouring all anger, and he needed to find someone to vent it.

Zhang Squik creeped in the mud in front of him, waiting for the Prophet to decide his fate. It took Tanguer nearly a week to find him. The sneaky assassin lay face down in the shadow of the big clock. His tail lay flat. His beard pulled down in frustration. The leader of the gutter walker is still mumbling about how he was betrayed, about how the target was warned, otherwise it is impossible to resist his irresistible attack, how they used evil witchcraft to kill him Warrior-most importantly, these are not his faults. Standing near the assassin, the adjutants of Tangul, they covered their mouths with their paws to cover their laughter. It is rare for them to see a powerful and powerful person demeaning himself.

Countless faces stared at Tangul, eager to know what he would do next. Tangul made his eyes fall on every military leader. They were embarrassed under his watch. Their laughter stopped. None of them wanted to be the focus of his anger-it was unfortunate for them, because one of them must be.

The Prophet looked at the representatives of the Founders' Clan, Isaac's Clan, Scree's Clan, and Pestill's Clan. All these are directed by him. At least before his successor, Warlord Vimic-Skab, arrived. But this will not happen. Tangul prepared a small surprise for the warlord. Vimic Skab can't reach this place alive. This idea hardened his tail. However ... however, although he controlled all these forces, he failed to kill the dwarf.

Anger and fear tormented his stomach. Guerrerogan and his worthless human followers are still alive. It's unbelievable! How could this be?

He, the great Tangul, seemed to be cursed. He shuddered at the thought of this. The devil certainly won't take back his favor from the person he chose? No, he told himself severely that this was not the real reason why the dwarf was alive. The real reason is the incompetence of his subordinates.

Tangul showed his fangs and an angry expression. The **** gutterwalker failed his trust. Due to their incompetence, they let the dwarves and humans escape. Tangul wanted to hang Zhang Sikuike and peel it alive. Only because he was afraid of being retaliated against by the Isain clan, he did not order his bodyguard to catch the gutter walker.

There are rumors that Zhang Squik is a proud student of the master Assassin Sneek himself. In this case, such direct retaliation is impossible. However, Tangul believes that there are more than one method of peeling mouse skins. One day, he will make Zhang Sikuike pay the price for this tragic failure. However, Tanguer's question now is how to find a safe way to vent his killing anger without making enemies in the process. He flicked his tail in frustration. Tangul glared at Isaac-Glot. The extremely fat rat-man wandered lazily in a sedan secured to the back of the ogre. The master trainer of the founder clan came this morning, and he eagerly wanted to participate in this great offensive plan to ensure its victory. He and his entourage hurried along the underground passage from the secret base of the ratmen in the night rock cliffs of the Gray Mountains.

Glot tried to lock Tangul's hot eyes, but failed. He looked away, reached out a claw and touched the largest of his group of ogre rat bodyguards, this creature was so huge that the deceased, no one regretted the name was broken bone The kind of the person looks quite small. When Grotte fed it a small piece of delicious human fingers, it let out a happy roar. Behind Grote, the other trainers and their pet beasts were standing there waiting.

Tangul decided to leave Glotter. He had no doubt that he could kill the fat guy. But if these angry beasts lose control, he is not sure whether he can survive their attacks. In any case, he cannot blame the newly appointed master of beast tamers for the failure of the attack plan last week.

So he turned his attention to Villebris-Nure, a low-level monastery dean from the Pestirian clan. The plague monk stood there alone, unlike any other ratmen. In the hood of the dean of the monastery, pus-filled, fearless green eyes met Tangul's own gaze.

Tangul immediately dismissed the idea of ​​venting his anger on the sick man. Like all Ratmen, he knew that the plague monks were crazy. It is meaningless to fight against them. Tangul slowly looked away. The plague monk proudly used his moldy robe sleeve to blow his nose. A huge green snot bubble swelled on his wrist and burst.

At the bottom is the heavily armed one-eyed Heskett, a magic stone engineer of the Scree clan. Even his only left eye was small by the ratmen's standards, but his bodyguards carrying long-bore muskets had no less armor than the dwarves. Tangul is still angry at the explosion of the remote pager. He suspected there was some kind of assassination attempt there, but in fact, it seemed unlikely that the Scree clan was manipulating behind the scenes. It is not their style to deliberately blow up a precious device of their own to kill the enemy. Tangul decided to let Heskett go. His bodyguard's long-bore musket can shoot down the wings of flies in this range, but this has no effect on his decision. Yes, not at all.

He knew he could not punish these people. They are too strong. Their clan is so influential that he needs them to take the lead in attacking human cities. Nevertheless, he still had to kill people, both to rebuild his authority and to please himself. You can't just let them go. This is not a rat-like way.

An example must be set.

One by one he turned his attention to the military leaders of the Scarborough clan. They are all here except Warlord Vermick Scarab himself. Everyone wore the red and black uniforms of their clan. Everyone has a scar from the left ear to the left cheek, which is the badge of their clan. Each of them was as proud as a rat, an unmatched master with a group of fierce warriors, but when the eyes of the prophet met them, each of them hurried away. They knew that Tangul was known for his bad temper. Even the great leader of the Storm Commander, Chakul, did not want to face his anger. He is looking down on his feet, like a child facing elder discipline.

Very good, Tangul thought. They were scared. He sniffed a handful of magic stone snuffs, watching them tremble. In an instant ~ lightnovelpub.net ~ the madness of terror and slaughter passed his mind. His self-confidence swelled, convinced that at this moment he could face a member of the Modu committee and win. As usual, after the thrilling moments, the confidence caused by the medicine subsided, and the pure and chaotic energy afterglow burned in his veins. Soon, before the heat subsided, he chose a victim. He stretched out a sharp claw and pointed at Luck-Snake Tongue. Luck is the weakest of all military leaders, and, not coincidentally, he is also the one with the fewest allies here and in Demon.

"Do you think there is anything funny, snake tongue?" Tangul asked in his most scary, sharp voice. "Maybe you find something interesting?"

Luck-snake tongue licked his nose nervously. He shook his head flatly and raised his empty paws. "No! No! The great prophet."

"Don't lie. If there is something funny in the tragic failure of the powerful gutterwalker, please share it. Your insight may be very useful. Come! Say! Say!" Luck-Snake Tongue The ratmen on both sides began to back away, carefully pulling as much distance as possible between themselves and the unlucky guy. After a while, Luck-Snake Tongue found himself standing on a twenty-foot-wide open space. He glanced back, trying to find a way to escape, but couldn't find it. Even his bodyguard would not stand beside him, and the prophet was staring at him angrily. Luck shrugged, shook his tail, and put his hand on the handle of the blade. He apparently decided to hold on daringly.

"If gutterwalkers fail, it's because they are too cunning," Luck said. "They should attack head-on, revealing their blades in a dense charge. This is the Ratman's way. This is the way of the Scarab clan."