''Howl --''
Hoarse and hateful wolf howls appeared at the salt mines.
The head of Jackal pirates chief, his scarred face was filled with the wrath of an outcast.
They carried supplies themselves around the Devil's Zone, from the Mannheim coast to the southern part of the Nahrin Desert, even didn't find the corresponding team, let alone the camp that should have been built.
They had been almost exhausted, whose heart gushed out endless killing intention.
It wasn't easy to make the long journey to get here.
The clean water in the water sacks had long since been drunk, and now were filled with stinky urine, but even this kind of filth, which would have made them vomit and been spurned by any civilized high-level jackal, was the guarantee of their current lives.
This was because their supplies had already reached the desperate point of exhaustion.
In the vast dunes, no one knew which one would be their grave.
"Something's wrong."