As soon as he finished speaking, the reception hall's carved wooden doors were thrown open with a bang. More than twenty Ratman Warriors swarmed in, their pauldrons clashing. Their jet-black armor glinted like cold steel in the flickering candlelight, and the blades of the Black Crystal Longswords in their hands shimmered with an inky light. The clang of their overlapping armor plates sounded like the prelude to the beating of war drums.
They instantly formed a fan-shaped battle formation, closing in to create an impenetrable circle around the three Ratmen in the center. The sound of their boots grinding against the floor tiles carried the chilling finality of quenched steel.
Moreover, these cowards who had once thrown down their weapons and surrendered on the Withered Leaf Tribe's battlefield now had a near-sacrificial fanaticism churning in their eyes.
