Almost as soon as she finished speaking, a heavy, savage aura, carrying a strong smell of blood and an ancient, barbaric pressure, pierced through the layers of mist and slammed heavily onto the camp like an invisible tsunami!

The flames of the campfire were instantly suppressed by this atmosphere, emitting a whimpering sound.

Kyle and Ruby instantly entered battle mode, their holy light and fire magic resonating and flowing instinctively.

Ork and the other reserve knights also stood up abruptly and quickly formed a defensive formation, with the light of the Holy Light Barrier shining on each of them.

Enzo roared, grabbed the new warhammer from the ground, and his short, stocky body erupted with molten fighting spirit as he stood firmly in front of Anna.

Monica's figure once again blended into the shadow beneath Mark's feet, the cold glint of the dagger appearing and disappearing in the shadows.

Mark took a deep breath, put down the iron spoon, and his eyes became cold and focused. Under the disguised holy light, a seven-colored black light quietly surged in the depths of his pupils.

“By the Holy Light,” he stared in the direction from which the oppressive aura emanated, a completely unsmiling smile curving his lips, “it seems… we’ve attracted quite a formidable opponent this time.”

The flames from the burning orc corpses suddenly shot up, illuminating the figures of the people in the camp who were on high alert.

The damp, cold mist of the swamp was shaken apart and churned by the heavy sound of war drums, the dull drumbeats seeming to strike the hearts of everyone.

Outside the defensive perimeter formed by Mark's squad and Kyle's squad back to back, the crisis had already surrounded them like an iron barrel.

The first thing that catches the eye is the orc prince Grom Gorehowl, who is like a mobile fortress.

He sat atop the back of a ferocious swamp behemoth covered in heavy bone armor. His bronze skin gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen in the dim light, and his menacing bone crown, inlaid with blood-red gems, exuded a suffocating aura.

Behind him, dozens of fierce-looking orc guards, the "Skullbreakers," clad in blood-stained armor, formed a formidable assault formation, like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves, wielding heavy axes and warhammers, their every step causing the swamp to tremble.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and the scent of barbarity.

But that's not all.

Outside the encirclement formed by the orc guards, more menacing figures could be seen looming about.

Some were draped in tattered black robes, their hoods gleaming with a greedy, eerie light, their eyes fixed on the ominous red, bulging animal skin pouch at Kyle's waist.

Some were dressed in strange costumes and covered their faces with special equipment, clearly desperate outlaws drawn by the alluring "encirclement and annihilation of the remnants of the Holy Light" mission and the right to customize legendary equipment from the Rotten Vine Alliance.

Even worse, their eyes were filled with pure madness and a deep-seated hatred for the Church of Holy Light, like sharks that had smelled blood.

"Roar—!" Grom's roar was like a thunderclap. His crimson eyes swept over the scattered covetous on the periphery, filled with undisguised contempt and killing intent. "The Heart of Bloodvine is mine! You scum, get out of my way! Otherwise, the Skullbreaker Guard won't mind adding a few more heads to your drink!"

At his command, a small squad of elite orc warriors pounced on the outer perimeter like wolves, brutally driving away the lone heretics and mercenaries, clearing the area.

"roll!"

"Take one more step, and you're dead!"

The roars of the orc warriors and the gleam of their weapons forced the crowd on the periphery to retreat unwillingly, while chaotic whispers and curses spread through the mist.

However, no one noticed.

The gaunt old shaman standing beside the Grom behemoth.

During the process of driving them away, his cloudy eyes made extremely brief and barely perceptible eye contact with several heretical figures who seemed to be forced back.

No one noticed that while everyone's attention was drawn to Grom's imposing presence and the chaos of his driving away...

The old shaman's withered fingers twirled gently inside the wide sleeves of his leather robe, and some nearly tasteless, grayish-blue powder, like dust, silently fell into the swamp surrounding the camp, quickly disappearing from sight.

Grom was completely unaware of this.

His entire focus was on the human force in the center of the camp, heavily besieged yet still radiating an indomitable holy light and fiery aura.

He looked down at Kyle, his enormous, bell-like eyes fixed on him, his voice booming like thunder, carrying an undeniable arrogance:

"You insects of the Holy Light! Hand over what belongs to me!" His enormous finger pointed to the animal skin pouch at Kael's waist. "Then, kneel! In the name of the Beast God, swear to be my eternal slave! I, Grom Bloodhowl, will show mercy today and spare the lives of you ants!"

He paused, a cruel smile spreading across his狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face. He looked around at Mark, Kyle, Ruby, and every member of the team who were on high alert. His voice suddenly rose, filled with a bloody threat.

"Otherwise... I will personally twist your heads off! I will make your skulls into the finest goblets, and your filthy spines into new decorations on my scepter! Your flesh and blood will feed the maggots of the swamp! Choose, you worms! To live on your knees, or... to die crushed?!"

The terrifying pressure crashed down like a massive, tangible mountain.

The campfire was extinguished completely, and the decaying, dead trees around the camp groaned under the weight of the fire.

Ork and the other reserve knights turned pale, and their holy light shields fluctuated violently.

Enzo grunted, his obsidian-like skin shimmering with molten light. He sank deep into the mud to barely keep his balance, his knuckles white from gripping the warhammer tightly as he desperately protected Anna.

Under this suffocating pressure, Mark and Monica, lurking in the shadows, made their decisions almost simultaneously.

“High-level peak…” Mark’s voice was extremely low, yet it clearly reached the ears of those around him, carrying an unprecedented solemnity.

In the shadows, Monica's cool whisper rang out simultaneously: "The strength of her aura is basically equivalent to that of Commander Alfonso."

Despite being in dire straits, Grom's terrifying aura, far surpassing that of ordinary high-level experts, was revealed, and the resulting oppressive feeling only made Kyle and Ruby's eyes sharper.

The holy light and flames burned even more intensely in the resonance.

Upon hearing Mark and Monica's words, Grom exhaled two thick puffs of white air from his massive nostrils, a fleeting smugness at having his strength exposed flashing across his face, only to be replaced by disdain:

"Hmph! Alfonso Lin? That coward who only knows how to run away? I will personally snap his neck and raze his knights to the ground sooner or later! Now, enough talk! My patience is running out! Bloodvine Heart, and your knees, offer them up immediately!"

The orc guards' battle axes slammed to the ground in unison, producing a dull thud, like a countdown to death.

The heretics who were driven away from the periphery had gleaming eyes that seemed to hold either schadenfreude or a predatory glint.

The old shaman lowered his eyelids, as if everything was irrelevant to him, except for the traces of grayish-blue powder remaining on his cuffs, which gleamed ominously in the dim light.

For Mark's team and Kyle, this was a hopeless situation with no chance of survival!