Chapter 112: The Dwarven King

Chapter 112: The Dwarven King

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Before Mananxi could react, the players flanking the beastmen had already fired a volley of bullets with lightning speed.

Despite the beastmen's sharp beast intuition, the sudden ambush left many of them riddled with bullets.

"Deserves to die! They have firearms! Draw yours! Draw yours!"

The beastmen finally snapped to their senses, instinctively unwrapping the cloth-covered dwarven firearms and returning fire with a barrage of shots.

For a moment, the battlefield echoed with gunfire.

Mananxi turned to flee, but the moment she saw the beastmen brandishing their firearms, a wild idea took shape in her mind.

"Prepare for close combat! Now!"

She roared the command into the team channel.

The players, who had been on the verge of scattering like startled birds, instinctively charged forward, some even burrowing underground.

Mananxi cast wind magic lightness, soaring down the hillside like a great bird.

Before she even closed the distance, she unleashed the classic mage opener—light magic: radiance!

In an instant, she transformed into a blinding sun descending from the sky!

Even in broad daylight, the beastmen instinctively shut their eyes.

At the same time, the players struck.

Some grabbed the beastmen’s ankles from below, simultaneously shaping their heads into earthen spikes for a brutal tactical strike.

Others thrust forward with their swords, instinctively employing combat techniques.

A few manifested phantom fists, clenching them into massive hammers to overpower their foes with sheer force.

These beastmen were indeed elite warriors. Even blinded by the sudden assault, their terrifying beast intuition allowed them to dodge instinctively—

And even counterattack.

But when they instinctively swung their firearms like clubs, they suddenly remembered the preciousness of dwarven weapons.

In that split second, they hesitated.

And that fleeting hesitation sealed their fate. No amount of beast intuition could save them now.

"Scram!"

"Aaaah!"

The beastmen roared in fury—and screamed in agony.

The decisive ones swung their firearms like great blades.

The hesitant ones were gutted and left to perish.

When Mananxi plunged into the beastmen’s ranks, the mages meticulously trained by the Keville Empire displayed terrifying lethality.

A storm of yellow sand swept across the battlefield, blinding the remaining beastmen once more.

Ice spikes proved deadlier than bullets, carving wounds with chilling efficiency.

But the most horrifying was Mananxi’s mind storm, a Mind Magic technique that shattered the sanity of flesh and blood.

A dozen breaths later, the sandstorm dissipated. Warhorses fled in panic, and the ground was littered with corpses and blood.

"Captain, weren’t they supposed to be elites?"

Xi Ze asked in astonishment. This was his first time witnessing the might of orthodox mages.

Their strength didn’t lie in casting a single overpowering spell—but in their mastery of multiple basic magics and their razor-sharp battlefield judgment.

"They were elite beastmen. But the moment they picked up firearms, they stopped being elites."

A smug smile curled Mananxi’s lips, pride swelling at her own foresight.

"How many did we lose?"

"Three!"

Only the destruction of a magic puppet’s core magic runes could truly kill it.

This alone spoke volumes about the ferocity of these beastmen warriors.

"Loot the battlefield and retreat!"

Mananxi nodded. There was no time to tally gains and losses—she barked the order and moved on.

The players didn’t need her orders—they were already looting corpses.

For players, looting corpses was second only to merit points as their most important income. It was a behavior ingrained in their instincts.

After a few breaths, the players finished looting, gathered their spoils, and sank into the ground, fleeing far away.

Mananxi, restricted by her multi-elemental puppet body, would expend too much mana if she burrowed underground. Instead, she activated her lightweight body and dashed away at high speed.

……

……

"Kaut, I’m going to kill you!"

In the Beast Temple of the primary domain of Draenor, the true body of Beast God Bruhman suddenly snapped his eyes open and let out a hysterical roar!

His surging divine power shook the great hall, filling the air with a deafening hum.

Kaut was the name of the Dwarven King.

Just moments ago, Bruhman had received news that the magic puppets under the Internet God of the Dofi domain had launched sudden attacks on his tribes.

Of course, that alone wasn’t enough to enrage Bruhman.

What drove him to lose his composure was the fact that these magic puppets were wielding large numbers of dwarven firearms—firearms even more refined than his own!

The sight made Bruhman’s blood boil with fury.

He realized he had been betrayed by the Dwarven King.

"Huff… huff…"

Bruhman’s eyes burned red, filled with boundless madness.

Abruptly, he sat upon his divine throne and closed his eyes.

In an instant, a divine projection descended upon the dwarven world—the Dark Pit of Kazad-dûm.

At the foot of the solitary mountain that crowned Kazad-dûm, two towering stone statues of dwarves stood at the entrance, each wielding a massive hammer and shield.

Clad in black armor, Bruhman strode forward, his heavy footsteps echoing along the long stone path.

"Beast God, why have you come again? Hic…"

A drunken voice drifted lazily from the entrance of the mountain’s belly.

"Are you going to stop me?" Bruhman’s voice was icy.

"Hic… Wouldn’t dare. Please!"

Bruhman snorted coldly. He almost wished the Mountain Keeper would try to stop him—just so he’d have an excuse to kill!

Once inside the cavern, the path grew darker and more labyrinthine.

Though Bruhman had visited several times, he still found himself disoriented.

Fortunately, a flickering light appeared ahead—the Mountain Keeper’s torch, guiding his way.

After what felt like an eternity, his vision suddenly widened as he finally stepped into the heart of the solitary mountain—the Furnace Cavern, the dwarves’ core city.

It was a vast underground space, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling like chandeliers. Banded fluorescent ores glowed like stars in the night sky.

Below, the intricate network of stone pathways twisted like the guts of an enemy, sprawling in all directions.

Everywhere, the clanging of hammers on metal rang out.

Everywhere, drunken shouts and brawls echoed.

With a grim expression, Bruhman followed the Mountain Keeper across a long stone bridge before finally stopping in a grand hall.

Those damned dwarves were holding another feast.

The hall was filled with dwarves swaying drunkenly.

The Dwarven King Kaut, his white beard braided and clad in leather armor, sprawled across the Throne of the Arsenal, reeking of alcohol.

When he saw Bruhman arrive, he sneered mockingly, "Bruhman, instead of using my weapons to conquer domains, what brings you here? Don’t tell me you want me to provide maintenance services? Hahaha!"

The drunken dwarves in the hall burst into laughter alongside him.

In the Beast Temple, the enraged Bruhman, upon witnessing this absurd scene, instead laughed in fury.

"Fools with brains soaked in ale, do you really think you can gain anything by making a fool of me? Believe me, I’d rather abandon a domain and attack Kazad-dûm, ensuring your eternal suffering!"

Clang!

The vast hall abruptly fell silent.

One by one, the dwarves, their noses flushed red from drinking, slowly sat up, their thick, carrot-like fingers gripping the massive hammers at their waists.

Behind the Throne of the Arsenal, two crimson lanterns lit up—the photosensitive organs of a giant worm.

"I don’t quite understand your meaning, Beast God Bruhman?"

The Dwarven King straightened his posture, his eyes bloodshot.

"You don’t understand?"

Beast God Bruhman let out a furious laugh. With a wave of his hand, countless metal constructs clattered across the hall.

"Tell me, what are these? Hah!"

His roar shook the temple, sending dust trembling from the ceiling.