Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 394 - 80: Half a Tyrant

The shooting ports in the tower kept flickering with firelight.

That’s the Texas Wolf Race shooting at the enemies with crossbows and firearms.

Occasionally, an expedition army member climbing on the mountainside would be hit critically by a bullet, screaming as they fell into the abyss.

With a loud bang, a lonely tower standing on the city wall accurately hit the enemy’s artillery position in the mountains with its shells, causing a series of explosions.

The ground shook, and Furinjira felt completely deaf, her head buzzing.

"These damned pups, what a noise they make."

Furinjira rubbed her ears and casually conjured a Blood Spear spell, aiming at the wolf race trying to cut off the chains of the drawbridge that still connected the city gate to the mountain path, pinning them to the ground.

The enemies were increasing in number.

The battle seemed lively, but these wolf race folks were thick-skinned and strong, and their vitality was exceedingly tenacious. Many of them possessed Centurion Hans-like "Undying Body" skills, regular firearms simply couldn’t kill them.

Not long after, fierce cries echoed from a nearby tower.

Prajna’s expression changed slightly: "When are you planning to act?"

Furinjira, who had been arranging the magic array for a month without sparing any expense, was their important main character at the moment. Her duty as a Heavy Iron Guard was merely to protect and support this main character, allowing her to output freely.

"No rush, no rush, wait until a few more significant figures show up."

Furinjira squinted her eyes slightly, observing the movements within the area covered by her magic array.

Although behind the tower protruding from the outermost walls of Wolf Castle, there were still three walls awaiting enemy breakthrough, each equipped with strong fortifications and garrisoned forces, if the enemy got a foothold on this treacherous ground, the natural barrier advantage would vanish.

At the moment, although the enemy seemed not to be hindered by the natural barrier, climbing up was a severe restriction on both the number of troops that could be deployed simultaneously and the warriors’ stamina consumption for the expedition army.

"Here comes a Centurion."

In Furinjira’s eyes flash a trace of blood light; her mouth reveals two small, exquisite sharp teeth, her hair and sleeves floating in the abundant magic power aura.

"Cepesh’s aura, why are you mixing with the rebels?"

The wolf race Centurion, with steady steps, didn’t even pant as he jumped onto the protruding platform.

This was a middling-appearance middle-aged wolf race, with a black wolf head tattoo on his arm, lacking ears and tail, clearly a pure-blooded wolf race like Hans.

Furinjira rolled her eyes in disdain, "What? You stinking, barbaric pup, dare question this princess?"

"Heh, you’ve missed your chance to escape; die here then. I reckon your Piercing Duke won’t go to war with the Yakxi Family over the reckless path of a clueless descendant."

As soon as the wolf race Centurion finished speaking, black fur began to grow wildly. In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a towering, robust giant werewolf, extending half-meter-long sharp Blood Blades from his claws.

He growled hoarsely from his throat, lunging fiercely at Furinjira.

Prajna calmly stood before her; though the girl was tall and slender, she appeared mountainous in that moment.

The wolf race Centurion crashed against the Shield, but Prajna only took a slight step back, steadied her stance, and no matter how hard the Centurion tried, he couldn’t advance.

"?"

Confusion flickered on the crazed face of the wolf race Centurion; among the Yakxi Family, his strength was ranked top three, even the Ripper might not easily defeat him in pure power—how could a woman withstand him?

Suddenly.

Countless blood pathways glowed under his feet.

With his first step onto the platform, countless blood curses descended upon him.

Numerous interwoven blood array patterns clung like veins to the heart, pulsing with Furinjira at their core, continuously channeling power into her.

Her eye sockets turned crimson; sharp bone spikes pierced the flesh, emerging from her shoulders, back, thighs—encasing her like armor.

Broad, blood-red bat wings spread as, in just a few short breaths, Furinjira seemed transformed; even her figure seemed more mature.

She opened her hand; blood solidified into a sharp Longsword, with a pale eyeball slowly turning at the hilt.

Across from her, the wolf race Centurion’s eyes were filled with horror: "Is that... the aura of Tyrant Dracula? Are you his direct descendant?"

Suddenly.

Furinjira appeared as a streak of blood light behind the wolf race Centurion, grasping a still-throbbing heart in her palm, a different expression gracing her lips than usual.

"Such a healthy heart, let me perform a little surgery."

Squish—

The heart crushed to pieces, elastic fragments squeezing through her fingers.

The wolf race Centurion fell to the ground in terror, blood seeping into the array patterns beneath him, making those interwoven lines glow more vividly.

At this time, a female wolf race in tight black leather had just climbed onto the platform, she lifted the black barrel and fired two bullets at Furinjira.

Bam—

The bullets deflected off the Ghost Face Shield.

The female wolf race intended to continue attacking, but as if a strong hand grasped her throat, an overpowering suffocating feeling left her devoid of any resistance.

Crunch.

Her neck twisted, her body slumping to the ground.

Furinjira, with a wicked smile, approached the fallen female wolf race, lowered herself, and sank sharp fangs into the flesh of her neck.

Prajna watched this wicked act calmly, his face emotionless.

At this moment, Furinjira hadn’t wielded the Tyrant Transformation unique to those in Tier Two, merely had some ancestral mutations from the Piercing Duke, hardly a half Tyrant.

...

"Just the two of us again, want some?"

Hans held a can of chickpea stew beef he had roasted over the campfire, a layer of oil floating on top, smelling delicious.

Kurs half-closed his eyes, resting against the brick wall: "No thanks."

Their duo stationed at the back of Wolf Castle.

The abyss beneath them was an insurmountable barrier for ordinary men and even climbing animals like monkeys, but for the wolf race, it wasn’t an overwhelmingly difficult passage.

At this moment.

Artillery fire erupted.

The duo listened to the booming around them; the sudden alarms ringing inside Wolf Castle, exchanging a glance.

"Same old routine?"

"Yes."

Kurs nodded and merged into Hans’s shadow like ink.

"Hans, someone’s coming up!"

A Texas Wolf Race soldier stationed there suddenly spoke, holding a gas lantern, illuminating the mountainside where a shadow seemed to climb upwards.