Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 399 - 84: Thunder of Cannon Fire
As dawn approached, morning bells rang in the castle’s bell tower, startling a flock of birds into flight.
Losa awoke to the sight of Prajna’s pale chin; she was leaning against the wall, eyes closed in meditation, while he rested on her smooth, full thighs... Even from this angle of death, Prajna still looked beautiful.
He quietly got up, the blanket covered with morning dew, becoming much heavier.
Even though he tried his best to move quietly, Prajna was still awakened, though she hadn’t been sleeping at all.
"Good morning."
"Hmm, last night Jeanne..."
"What happened to her, did she drink too much?"
Jeanne could handle her alcohol quite well, drinking as if it were water. If she didn’t have such tolerance, she wouldn’t be drunk at such a critical moment. Her character may be bad, but she definitely knows the importance of situations.
"It’s nothing."
Prajna thought it over but still didn’t tell Losa about the conversation she had with Jeanne last night. She would never admit it unless caught red-handed. Given her perceptive abilities, the chance of that happening was slim.
The weather in Texas was hot, but the summit of Wolf Castle was certainly an exception.
Losa lit a cigarette from the iron brazier suspended by chains, gazing towards the camp in the forested mountains.
The Expedition Army had long cleaned the surrounding forests of the camp, so it was clearly visible from high ground. The silent camp had awakened, and many wolf race warriors began organizing weapons and roasting food on the bonfire, preparing for the upcoming assault.
Perhaps due to their confidence, the Expedition Army’s camp was not far from Wolf Castle, clearly within the range of the fort cannons on the battlements.
Juliano was already patrolling the walls with his sword sheathed, and upon seeing Losa awake, he walked into the room.
"Good morning, Lord Losa."
"Good morning, Clan Leader Juliano."
"Last night, I gathered coordinates and illustrations of several dragon beasts nearby."
"Thank you."
Losa sincerely expressed his gratitude, knowing that time might not be sufficient, but it was better than nothing.
Waiting always leads to idleness.
Losa casually flipped open a page of the illustration book.
The first creature he saw startled him.
This dragon was too abstract in appearance.
It was a rat dragon, with a long neck like a swan but a head resembling a mouse.
The illustration described the innate talent of this dragon species as a deceptive illusion technique that distorts others’ perceptions, causing cognitive dissonance similar to confusing a deer for a horse.
Thinking about it carefully, in a battle, randomly designating a tree or bird as oneself could have miraculous effects, far from being useless.
But its appearance was too ugly; Losa definitely didn’t want elements of this creature in his future dragon transformation.
He decisively looked towards the next.
Page after page revealed quite an abundance of dragon species creatures near Texas.
The New Continent was a wild paradise, with colonial settlers staking claims without the ability or willingness for intensive cultivation.
Until the sun rose high in the sky, a new round of attacks hadn’t started, not even a symbolic cannon fire.
Both sides maintained a certain degree of tacit understanding, neither side taking the initiative to strike.
On the city tower, the Texas Wolf Race warriors, who had endured for long, yawned and complained: "Those bastards are probably scared, huh?"
"We took down quite a few of them last night."
"But we lost just as many as they did."
"Ha, our lives are cheap. Being able to trade lives with those former high-ranking aristocrats feels worth it."
"That’s true, but we don’t have as many people as they do."
"So what? At worst, we’ll die. Being able to knock those high-ranking old wolf races to the ground, even if just to spit on them, is thrilling enough." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦
Someone sighed: "You were born in Iberia, so you don’t know how they treated us wanderers back then."
"If pure-blooded, you might qualify to join a family as a pet dog, but if a mixed-breed or exiled wanderer, finding a livelihood in Italy was impossible. That place belongs to the wolf race but not us."
Losa listened to the idle chatter of the wolf race warriors in the distance, lost in thought.
Juliano might be an ambitious man, but ambitious doesn’t necessarily mean a negative trait.
Dukes and ministers, is it a matter of destiny? In the bloodline-obsessed Western World, it’s unimaginable. The East has Zhu Yuanzhang as an exemplar of grassroots uprising, but in Europe, no king has ever risen from the commoners, or even the peasant slave class.
"Damn it, my joints ache faintly; it’s probably my old injury flaring up."
The speaker was a middle-aged wolf race member, who didn’t look very old, yet the weathered appearance on his face couldn’t lie. The wolf race’s lifespan is long; for humans, this might mean nearing old age, but at forty in the wolf race, he’s just considered middle-aged.
"Your old bones only ache on rainy days, right? Although I also look forward to seeing those mongrels turned into drenched dogs, today’s weather doesn’t look like rain."
Indeed, the sky was clear, with no sign of rain.
"May the Heavenly Father protect us."
"Ha, why would the Heavenly Father protect people like us?"
"Lady Jeanne is willing to bless us, so the Heavenly Father will be willing."
"That’s right, Lady Jeanne is a Saintess; since she is willing to help us, the Heavenly Father surely will."
The wolf race warriors chatted casually about the Heavenly Father without any apparent reverence.
Hopefully, Monica is okay.
The little girl is just an ordinary person; no matter how insane those bastards might be, they wouldn’t easily harm the sheep.
Who knows.
"I had planned to propose to her this Christmas."
"Ha, I remember when you first visited her home, you got hit by her father. She’s a good girl; she’ll be safe."
The young wolf race member’s face showed a hint of melancholy.
Unlike those who emphasize pure blood, trying to constantly create high-level wolf races capable of werewolf transformation.
The wolf races of the New World never cared about that, because their bloodline was inherently diverse.
Yesterday, old John was hit by that cannon shell, and there wasn’t even a corpse left behind.
May he rest in peace.
Can we survive?
I don’t know.
The young wolf race member’s face showed a hint of melancholy.
Unlike those who emphasize pure blood, trying to constantly create high-level wolf races capable of werewolf transformation.
The wolf races of the New World never cared about that, because their bloodline was inherently diverse.
Yesterday, old John was hit by that cannon shell, and there wasn’t even a corpse left behind.
May he rest in peace.
Can we survive?
I don’t know.
Their spirits quickly dropped low.
