The main force of this operation is the Black Blade Knights led by Arthas, supplemented by some undead indigenous mercenaries, due to the lack of troops in Stratholme, only part of the necromancer Prataya mage group has to fight, and most of them have to stay in the city, so the magic power in this sneak attack is a little lacking.

However, the hunger and thirst for war had already burned everyone's hearts, and the raid was still carried out as scheduled.

The highest undead in the enemy's rear base camp was a level 11 ghoul, and he was also frightened when he heard the report of an unknown force attacking.

Although they claim to be camps here, they are simply rude and unsightly. Due to the lack of wood and large stones, the vast and huge camp is only a "wall" composed of scattered rubble blocks, which is not half a meter high, and even a low-level zombie can easily climb in. If this zombie is not too careful, it is easy to step on these simple "walls" that are simply stacked and not reinforced in any way.

So when the ghoul leader stood on a high platform and tiptoed to see the rows of undead knights marching in unison under the huge smoke, his heart immediately fell into despair.

"Drive all those zombies over and let them stand a little denser......" The ghoul leader shouted loudly waving his sharp claws, and a dozen ghosts immediately obeyed.

After all, the ghoul boss has experienced tens of thousands of years of war, and the basic idea of fighting against the undead knights is still right, the only regret is that the zombie hordes are too slow, and before they can gather into a ** city wall without half a gap, the Blackblade Knights have already arrived.

Half a mile away behind the Knights of the Black Blade, there were nearly two hundred huge bats gliding towards the air, and the black pressure on them was full of undead mercenaries of different shapes.

Under the command of Arthas, the Knights of the Black Blade deflected their arrows slightly, avoiding the already rudimentary frontal battlefield, and drew a perfect arc, leaping over the low "wall" and cutting into the waddling zombie colony from the flanks.

"Knock ......"

A continuous dull crash sounded, and countless broken zombie limbs were thrown backwards, and thick black blood from decay splattered everywhere. Looking down from above, the right wing of the zombie group, which was still black just now, seemed to be swept by a wooden comb, and several obviously wide gaps came out of it. All the zombies that stood in the way of the Death Knight's charge were either smashed or trampled down.

In such a chaotic situation, it is difficult for the fallen zombies to get up again, and they can only wail helplessly under the countless black and smelly feet of their companions, and finally turn into sticky meat sauce.

The Knights of the Black Blade did not turn their horses around and continued to sweep the zombie horde, these are only low-value prey after all, and the corpse witches who are hurrying in formation not far away are the primary target of the day.

Compared to the orthodox corpse witches in the cemetery, these naturally evolved wild corpse witches are uneven in strength, lack of equipment, and have a single spell, so they are not qualified spellcasters. But the caster is the caster, and even if the caster is mixed with water, it is a terrible force if it coalesces.

Obviously, the front line is also very hungry for this kind of spellcaster, so there are not many corpse witches staying in the camp, only twenty or thirty. They sensed the chaos in the outside world, and they got out of their own dilapidated tents, and when they saw the undead knights who rushed into the camp and slaughtered, they knew that something was wrong, and hurriedly walked stiff legs and feet to get together.

It's a pity it's too late.

Due to the incompetence of the Flesh Shield Zombies, the charge of the Knights of the Black Blade was not hindered at all, and by the time the group of motley spellcasters had finally gathered together and were scrambling to chant spells, the Death Knights had already rushed forward.

Knowing this, they might as well not get together, and if they disperse, they might even cause some damage sporadically, but now they are spending time on the road, and when they sound the spell, they are just being boiled by the Death Knight.

This is the huge difference between having a command and not having a command, and if you choose the wrong tactics, it is easy to fulfill others and disgust yourself.

The tall and fierce undead knights swept by, and in Arthas's high-pitched reminder, the blades of all the undead knights involuntarily lowered a few points again, and slashed along the necks of the corpse witches, without hurting their heads where their soul fire was.

It's a pity that there are always a few bad lives. The severed head shatters into the armor of an undead knight in flight, or rolls to the ground and is trampled into powder by the massive hooves of a horse.

Moros, the green-haired zombie who was still in the air a hundred meters away, slapped his thigh and screamed regretfully. It's all points, and it's been ruined by that group of big black guys. There seemed to be a lot of dark and gloomy enemies in the camp, but most of them were skeletal zombies of low value, and there were only a few high-value targets that could make the undead mercenaries happy. Now that the black big men of the Knights have won one first, if they don't act quickly, they will lose money in this battle.

With Moros' loud command, all the bat demons no longer landed on the periphery to rest as before, but flew straight into the chaotic camp and swooped down on a group of high-level undead who were different from the surrounding ones. This group of undead looks majestic, but in fact, their real strength is between level 5 and 10, and now they are no longer in the eyes of the fully armed undead mercenaries.

The bat demon was still descending at high speed in mid-air, and the impatient green-haired zombie Moros had already risen and jumped down directly when he was 20 meters above the ground. Moros, who weighed two or three hundred pounds himself, plus the armor and shield weapons all over his body, smashed straight into the body of a corpse demon like a heavy piece of iron. After the loud "bang" sound, the corpse demon was smashed directly into meat sauce from the middle, breaking into two pieces of convulsions.

"Hey, boy, I'm sorry!" Moros, who had no sincerity, smiled at the corpse demon's head when he stood up, and shouted loudly to Arthas, who had just rushed not far away: "Lord Arthas, this place has been contracted by us, please change the route!" ”

Arthas, covered in a black mask, spat angrily, flicked his horse's head, and led the Knights of the Black Blade to rush towards the other. This cunning bastard will grab the loot, and he must move quickly, otherwise the bastards in the sky will jump down and occupy the target, and he will only have a zombie group to cut down.

Unfortunately, things in the world are always good and not bad.

With Moros as an example, before the undead knights could rush to the next target, another mercenary boss jumped down desperately and preemptively captured the undead.

With a hateful wave of his hand, Arthas stoodled the skeletal horsemen to their feet, and he took the opportunity to check the distribution of the enemy situation in the camp. Damn, what runs on the ground is not as good as flying in the sky! At a glance, undead mercenaries have appeared around all high-value target groups. There was even a mercenary leader who jumped from a height of 50 meters in order to be one step ahead, and was still shouting "This is ours!" Then he was loaded into the dense group of undead with his head down, and he was not afraid to fall to his death at once.

It's just such three turns and two turns, and there is already a fight in the huge camp, and the dignified Black Blade Knights can't find a worthy target. Oro, who was hiding behind a death knight's horse, grinned, pointed to the most conspicuous high platform in the field, and smiled sinisterly: "The boss there is mine!" Ask the leader of the Knights of the Black Blade to switch around and slash the zombie skeletons! ”

After saying that, his figure darkened and disappeared in place.

"Damn, I'm ......" Arthas, who is usually very polite, couldn't help but scold his mother desperately at this moment, and looked left and right to no avail, so he could only cough and sigh and lead many undead knights to rush to the largest number of zombie clusters.

One hour later, the shouting in the camp had gradually subsided. The once-black zombie skeletons were scattered all over the camp in various strange shapes, most of them were mutilated, and everywhere the eye could see, there were disabled undead people crawling all over the ground looking for their bodies.

The large enemy groups had been cleared, and there were some sporadic skirmishes continuing in the camp. In fact, it is not accurate to say that it is fighting, and the most accurate statement should be hunting. Some of the recalcitrant rebels of low value have been chopped into meat sauce like chopping melons and vegetables, and only those high-value undead, the indigenous undead mercenaries are willing to spend some time and energy to capture them completely and preserve the greatest value.

Therefore, in many locations, more than a dozen undead mercenaries are surrounded by a group, and 3-5 high-level undead are imprisoned inside, and they are working hard to put them down one by one, trying not to hurt their vital points and soul fire.

The bat demons on the periphery are also taking off and landing hard, the tightly bound defeated high-level undead back to Stratholme, and each undead mercenary team is carefully counting their gains, and everywhere the captain curses his teammates for breaking the trophies.

The undead knights under Arthas's command had already spread out and began to harvest the escapees from the periphery, while Arthas flicked the reins, and the super skeleton warhorse under him walked gracefully and leisurely to the central high platform.

This is the hub of the camp commander.

Black blood flowed on the earthen platform more than 3 meters high, all kinds of stumps and broken arms were scattered in pieces, and the ghoul and the personal guards directly under it had been dismantled, leaving only the bare torso rolling all over the ground, and the large mouth full of fangs was still opening and closing in anger.

"Need help?" Arthas rode his horse straight up to the commanding platform, and under the trampling of the huge iron hooves of the skeleton horse, several hapless ghouls were trampled on huge gaps.

"You did it on purpose!" Oro's short figure appeared in the corner of the high platform, and complained dissatisfiedly.

"You should learn from them. Killing may be your forte, but how to improve the quality of the harvest, Moros is much better than you. At least they won't be as bloody as you are! Arthas pushed back his heavy mask, revealing a pale, grim face, long lead-gray hair poking out of the crack in his helmet and fluttering slowly in the wind.

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(l~1`x*>+``+