The piercing whistling of the mournful snorting echoed through the silent forest.
Nirwinke extended its lava-colored massive tongue, slowly licking the golden blood from between its sharp claws. Its eyes were full of mockery and pity, tinged with a hint of teasing and taunting, leisurely gazing down at the snow-white unicorn convulsing violently on the ground. This poor creature had already lost two horse legs from its front half, with jagged wounds exposing sharp bones.
Three giant demons from the Netherworld scrambled on the ground, desperately sucking the spurting golden blood.
Even the first defensive super-level magical beast of Aegean, seemed small and fragile before Nirwinke, whose head was about eight meters high.
Sacred things always induce pleasure when desecrated, and the Underworld Clan harbored a desire to savor the unicorn, a holy magical beast of Aegean.
Nowadays, whatever you do, it must have taste; Nirwinke couldn’t avoid this norm. Yesterday, it and its subordinates went through quite a hassle to capture this cunning unicorn.
Also sprawled on the ground were eight alluring Drow Matrons and an aging blood-robed elder, their bodies trembling, seemingly no better off than the unicorn beside them.
"Rarely does the King of Moore appear before me. For my servant’s request, the Blood River Commander has always been generous!" Nirwinke chewed the delicious blood and flesh of the unicorn with a "crunch-crunch," ignoring the fallen elves crawling on the ground like ants: "However, the daylight of Aegean remains a heavy burden on our Underworld army’s advance! Thus, I still plan to proceed according to the original plan, tonight departing from the Southern Cross Star Forest! Within two nights and one day, all creatures of that foul region shall become my food! Rest assured, my loyal servants, I shall surely aid the poor Prince Benitez in avenging!"
The Blood River Commander spoke fluent Aegean Common Language, each word rolling sweetly with a Southern accent.
The Netherworld doesn’t offer a conducive environment for learning the Aegean language, nor would any kind-hearted Beamon priest help the Underworld Clan with "wisdom enlightenment." For higher-level demons of the Netherworld, mastering the language of another plane only has a few simple quick methods, such as what the Blood River Commander uses———devour.
"Honorable Blood River Commander, then we shall await your mighty army to help us vent this rage!" King Hargreaves of the Blood Elves dared not speak much, bowing three times in succession, reaching out trembling hands to offer a golden tray above his head.
In this bright golden tray was a heap of sharp sand dunes formed by blood-colored gravels.
The bizarre crimson scent spread in the air, somewhat resembling rust.
"Oh? My Moore servant, what offering have you presented?" The Blood River Commander forcefully knocked its head, its massive twisted horns sweeping through the air, splintering the towering beech trees behind into fragmented wood chips like a rainstorm. Its nostrils emitted a volcanic rumble, a sound that would silence even the most fearless demons of the Netherworld.
No choice, for now, whenever the Blood River Commander’s head starts thinking, the wound on its forehead beneath the white barbed eyebrows would ooze foul-smelling pus.
This periodically occurring cerebral pain, if prolonged, would lead the Blood River Commander to destroy anything displeasing in unconscious rage.
Like a mighty hill, its shaking grew more intense as Nirwinke rose with its three-forked giant trident. Every Underworld Clan member trembled, unable to guarantee that the next irrational moment wouldn’t reduce them to dust.
"This is a medicine recently refined by our Moore clan, capable of immediately suppressing your noble self’s intermittent head pain!" The aged King Hargreaves of Moore timidly bowed lower, raising the golden tray higher: "If there is even a half-truth in my words, I am willing to wash away my offense to you with my own life!"
Like the most competent handmaidens, the eight Drow Matrons picked up sparkling silver foil folded into long grooves, using spoons made of jewels to scoop red sand from the golden tray, sprinkled evenly over the foil repeatedly. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel-fire.net
After roasting the foil with a flame lamp, the red granules swiftly melted on the foil, continuously producing rows of round black beads, tumbling forward sharply like diagonal eight characters, with blue smoke blooming explosively.
Perhaps utterly unaware that the long-suffering and aging King of Moore held any treacherous intent, or perhaps motivated by desperation’s psychological tendency, the Blood River Commander Nirwinke, having never heard of the name "Bloody Mary," surprisingly followed the servant’s guidance, inhaling the rising blue smoke repeatedly.
In full view, the Blood River Commander, initially teetering on the brink of frenzy, comfortably closed its eyes, leisurely reclined back against the towering beech tree, and after a long breath, it was as if a hurricane swept the forest canopy, rolling up an overwhelming storm of fallen leaves.