"Good job, Captain Hog."
Losa spat out bloodied saliva, his face a mix of surprise and delight.
He hadn't coordinated with Captain Hog beforehand, so to appear so precisely on the battlefield meant that, from the night the enemy landed, he had already launched a raid on the Yakexi left behind by the Wolf Race.
The zombie sailors couldn't stand up to the Wolf Race in a head-on confrontation; besides lacking weak points and being unaffected by blood loss or crippling injuries, outside the Ghost Ship, they're not much stronger than ordinary people.
In fact, Losa's winged cavalry squad could easily trample the disorganized zombie sailors to bits on the open field.
Yet, at this crucial moment, an undead army appearing as if dropped from the heavens was still the last straw that broke the Expedition Army's morale.
The black flags fluttered on the artillery positions.
The ghastly white skull, surrounded by intertwined bones, wore a wickedly carefree grin.
