A wisp of red cloud rose from the shattered basket, rolling and squirming about in the air like a bunch of locusts.
The blood locusts were each about the size of a finger. Their wings were black as ink, but their bodies were fresh red and plump like drops of blood. The locusts dispersed swiftly in the air, nimbly flying toward the God-subduing Peak's light screen.
The blood locusts were uncountable and closely packed.
Fatty's face changed slightly as he felt somewhat disturbed.
Blood locusts? What were they for? An unexpected situation had occurred on the battlefield. The enemy had regarded them as their trump card, evidence that this had been plotted long ago.
This sudden change took the cannoneers off guard and threw them into disorder as they weren't sure where they should aim to shoot.
Fatty decided his course of action on the spot and shouted in a higher pitch, "Ignore everything else, go for the broadback batfish!"
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