Chapter 1181 - 584: Only Two Trump Cards

"Ahhh!!!"

The battle cry filled with anger seemed to contain some invisible energy, stirring faint ripples in the air.

From the tribal priest, the deep blue tattoos seemed alive, glimmered with light, squirming and twisting as they climbed up from the collar, covering half of the face.

With the mixed race of barbarian and dwarf, Iron Grid not only had the sturdy and powerful physique of a dwarf but also gained the ability of a barbarian to harness anger and invoke the heroic spirit totem.

Using the battle skill, his skin surface shimmered with a metallic sheen, making him seem as if forged from solid iron, with a shoulder bump flipping over a four-armed Fishman Elite Guard in front of him.

The heavy giant hammer in his hand came crashing down fiercely, causing the ground to quiver slightly from the sheer force.

Until the corpse beneath him was unrecognizable, with skull fragments and blue-white goo melded together, dead beyond resurrection.

Only then did this ferocious warrior gaze with his beast-like round eyes, nostrils flaring, letting out a long breath.

Did the sacrificial ceremony of the Sha Hua Fishmen succeed?

Perhaps only halfway.

The massive commotion from the direction of the altar allowed him to witness the harpoon launched by Haiya exploding above the altar, and he saw the Blood Skin Shark Beast, emanating a strong presence, yet arriving already in an injured and disabled state.

Iron Grid wasn’t sure about the true role of this demon among the Sha Hua Fishmen, but what he could sense was that with the appearance of the Shark Beast, the Sha Hua Fishmen, who were gradually falling behind in the adventurers’ counterattack, seemed to have found some sort of backbone.

Morale surged to the brink of craziness.

Immediately plunging the previously negotiable situation into a quagmire.

Having grown up in a Barbarian Tribe on an island, born of wild lineage...

Knew clearly that facing such circumstances required boosting morale and resisting the pressure.

Otherwise, any instance of retreat would see the entire defense line, like a dam, instantly breached by the enemy.

Therefore, even as his condition weakened considerably after the Secret Realm, he continued to exert every effort, leading the "Furious Tide Battle Gang" to the forefront of the battlefield.

And with every Fishman killed, he would unleash a morale-boosting barbarian battle cry.

It must be said, Iron Grid’s actions were effective for the adventurers on the field who had lost the musical encouragement of Alton.

In no time, these adventurer teams, who had perhaps never seen each other before, let alone fought side by side, truly persisted under the sound of battle cries, turning the Fishmen before them into quickly fading corpses.

Only, everything has two sides.

Iron Grid’s passionate battle cries heightened the adventurers’ morale but also greatly amplified his presence on the field.

Thus, when he once again swung his iron hammer, crushing the chest cavity of a Fishman Guard in front of him, delivering death and issuing his last battle cry.

Where his gaze met, the Blood Skin Shark Beast that had just sent "Haiya" flying into the sea now slowly turned its head, looking over from afar.

Boom—

It was hard to express in words how Iron Grid felt when he saw those slightly murky yet violently crimson eyes.

Perhaps like sleeping alone in the cabin as a child, with the Black Panther head creeping in from outside the door; or maybe the first time encountering a storm at sea, with the black waves towering mightily.

At this moment, Iron Grid even forgot to breathe, instinctively holding his iron hammer horizontally in front of him, thanks to his body’s survival instincts and years of muscle memory training.

The next second.

The Blood Skin Shark Beast that was just in the distance, had come near.

Its strong and mighty arms bent like a bowstring, gathering energy, and fell amidst the whistling sound of tearing air, with the fist bones striking on the iron hammer’s handle.

Evidently, purely from a strength perspective, the weakened Iron Grid after the Secret Realm couldn’t resist such a powerful impact.

Couldn’t even manage a brief struggle.

His legs sunk, and his stature, which was not tall to begin with, was forcefully punched into the sand, reverting to the height typical of normal dwarves.

The excellent weapon forged by a skilled blacksmith in his hand, the hammer’s handle twisted and bent.

The arms holding the ends of the giant hammer trembled violently, the deep blue tattoos on his skin flaring brilliantly before abruptly dimming, as if overwhelmed by impact.

As the fist that almost covered his upper body lifted again, Iron Grid’s face, with clenched teeth and veins nearly bursting from beneath the skin, flushed red, with piercing fresh blood flowing from the corners of his eyes and nose.

At least managing to block the shark beast’s frontal punch with his flesh and weapon, at the cost of severe injury.

Nonetheless, after proving he could withstand such a blow, Iron Grid entered a state of immobility.

Above, the paw with red-tinged scales turned from fist to palm, lightly gripping the bent handle of his giant hammer.

Like taking a toy from a child’s hand, effortlessly snatching away Iron Grid’s hammer, tossing it aside.

The struggling dwarf attempting to resist was slapped down to the ground.

Before he could rise, with a terrifying sound of air being torn, a bloodstained giant anchor descended, driven by chains, from above his head.