It seed they had a mutual understanding. Prajna looked at him and said blandly, "Rather than asking , why not ask Hog."
True enough.
Prajna is of the Ghost Race, but not a ghost. You could understand him as a native humanoid born in Hell, soone who fundantally still adapts better to Hell’s environnt, rather than a ghost surviving solely on a soul body.
The sound of cannon fire gradually subsided as the Wolf Race elites stord the city.
A three-ter-tall brown-haired werewolf, like a specter, charged swiftly at Losa.
Bang—
Prajna stepped in front of him, his Black Shield expanded, holding off the impact from the brown-haired Wolf Race.
A fiery blade flashed by.
The large head of the brown-haired Wolf Race was cleanly severed by Losa.
The fla scorched the wound into a charred black, not even leaving a drop of blood. Even an elite among the Corner Wolves had no chance to react against Losa’s strike.
Currently, his body was covered with black triangular scales. The Half-Dragon Transformation granted him imnse endurance and, combined with the Dark Lord’s oppressive aura, instilled a fear in the surrounding Wolf Race, both friend and foe, far exceeding that of an ordinary Centurion.
Prajna was sowhat astonished, not expecting Losa to initiate the Half-Dragon Transformation so rapidly.
Losa was also helpless.
The enemy’s strength was too formidable. Without initiating the Half-Dragon Transformation, he was at the level of elite foot soldiers. Facing any leader-level entity, he wasn’t a match. Prajna wasn’t known for her offensive power either. Though she possessed Centurion-level combat strength, swiftly killing any opponent was highly challenging.
More and more enemies climbed onto the city walls. There were already six Centurion-level formidable enemies, while on Losa’s side, even including himself, there were only three of equal combat strength.
He, Prajna, and a Texas Wolf Race mber.
He had seamless cooperation with Prajna, holding their ground against three Centurions.
But not far away, two enemy Centurions were flanking their Texas Wolf Race Centurion. Seeing their Centurion struggling left and right, unable to contend with the enemies, Losa grew anxious.
The enemies outnumbered them. Allowing them to divide and encircle, eliminating an important allied combat strength, next would be facing six enemies with just him and Prajna.
Prajna obviously discerned the intentions of the enemies.
These four opponents weren’t eager to attack but were rely wandering around, blocking the path of reinforcents for the two.
Losa raised his hand and hurled a string of Continuous Fireballs. This magic, learned from Anna, was quite powerful. Although counteracted by Demon-Blocking Gold, in a world without it, this flaw was nearly nonexistent.
Moreover, with the dual Volcanic Divinity boost, the fireballs erged with rolling heat waves, swiftly soaring forward.
But the enemies were agile, and seeing the fireballs coming, they imdiately retreated to dodge.
Losa had anticipated just this reaction. At the sa ti, he activated Bloodfall, and his robust physique allowed him to reach extre speeds, even without mastering any body technique. The Fla Longsword in his hand left a red trail as it fiercely struck toward the enemies flanking their Centurion.
Misel, seeing reinforcents arriving, couldn’t help but feel relieved. These two enemies weren’t inferior to him, and the flanking was truly beyond his capability to handle.
But at this mont, he saw the Expeditionary Centurion with his back to Losa not panicking or attempting to evade. Instead, a grin appeared on his face as he continued to attack Misel.
Not good!
This guy, being on par with himself, could not have failed to notice the enemy approaching from behind—there must be sothing off!
"Watch out!"
The words were caught in his throat.
Misel then saw, from the edge of the city wall, a tall werewolf with a ring of white mane on its neck leap up.
In his hand was a long spear, already poised for action. In the mont it appeared, it fiercely hurled the spear.
The intense sense of crisis made Losa break into a sweat on his back. With no ti to dodge, he directly activated the Solid Stone Talent. As the long spear was thrown, it transford into a blood-red giant wolf with sharp fangs, biting down on Losa’s neck.
The Blood Wolf bit into Losa’s body, shaking vigorously, but felt as if it was biting into solid steel. No matter how it shook, Losa remained unhard.
Bang—
The edge of the Black Shield spun violently, directly slicing the blood-red giant wolf in half. The unbreakable long spear was severed at the waist. A hint of heartache flashed in the white-maned werewolf’s eyes. With a roar, four Expedition Army werewolves charged towards the now-unard Prajna.
Prajna frowned, looking at the enemies in front of her.
Did they really think I could only defend?
But should I really reveal this thod?
After a mont of hesitation, seeing the first werewolf pounce on her, she made up her mind.
The Black Ghost Face Shield shot out like a chainsaw, moving at lightning speed, weaving among the city walls, quickly harvesting the lives of enemy after enemy. The ghost faces on it swiftly devoured one soul after another, yet no hint of joy appeared on its face.
The attack after releasing the shield consud not Prajna’s power, but the soul energy it had painstakingly, ticulously stored like a miser for so long.
Even though each kill allowed it to devour back a portion of energy, it knew its owner needed much more energy than that.
With the slaughter of over a dozen Wolf Race mbers.
Black Demon Fire suddenly ignited on Prajna’s surface.
Killing ten consecutive enemies activated her third talent, Fierce Battle.
Black, blood-vessel-like bizarre totems crawled over her pale skin, and sothing like a worm wriggled beneath the skin of her forehead’s center, continuously bulging upward, seemingly ready to break through the skin and grow out at any mont.
Her eye sockets were filled with ink-black color.
Bang, with a punch, a Wolf Race charging towards her was sent flying as if hit by a speeding train.
Then, the Black Shield returned to her side, exploding into a dense black mist, enveloping Prajna.
The remaining three Wolf Race besieging her halted montarily, not sure if they should continue the attack. Their Beast Intuition warned them not to let that black mist touch them.
When the black mist dissipated, there was no longer any trace of Prajna in the eyes of everyone. Instead, a gigantic black giant ghost appeared, with a spiral horn, a mouth full of ferocious fangs, and green long hair draped like a cloak over its back.
It crouched its five-ter-high body, with sharp white claws at least one ter long. As it appeared, the claws pierced the body of the nearest Wolf Race.
The werewolf scread continuously, as the nurous white claws rapidly split into countless branches.
With a loud snap.
Countless white spikes protruded from his skin, even extending from his screaming mouth.
Losa’s face was filled with uncontained shock.
Is this Prajna?
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