Othua's War Banner

Chapter 572 0419: Burial Ground

Meng rode a wolf into the periphery of Santon Kaya, stopped when approaching the village road, and began to collect his thoughts.

The wolf looked around vigilantly, and sensed some ripple fragments left by the magic, and the information left by the wolves was full of confusion.

This powerful and ferocious beast has never made any sound other than breathing.

The winter pine forest area on the village road should be very lively, but now there are no light cavalry around to greet them, and the guard posts in the core area are also empty all the way.

Meng knew he was coming back late.

There was definitely something going on in the tribe.

During his slight pause, several familiar faces came from a distance.

The remaining Heila basically returned to defend Thornton Kaya, the fisherman and the beast trainer were the opinion leaders, and the other Heila who did not show up either went to the Red Maple Heights with Zhanjing, or dealt with the Hanqi brothers It's a matter of business.

When Meng lifted the huntress from the saddle, the soldiers who were familiar with him were all nervous.

Jura was very resistant, even unwilling to accept the witchcraft treatment from the fisherman.

Her pride is eager to fight, she is an outsider, but she is unwilling to stay out of the crisis.

"Listen, anaconda."

As Meng said, he loosened his turban and tied Jura's fractured part. "I need to save my army, no matter from which point of view, you have no obligation to go with me..."

Jura's stubborn character has never heard similar advice.

Even the words of Pangtu and Wusenbu are useless.

Meng Zha's movements were very gentle, and his tone was neither hasty nor slow.

He was not very strong or turbulent, but he had an irresistible sense of conviction.

Meng reached out to take the magic crystal handed over by the fisherman, and swam over the wound torn by the steel sword. This is the inventory of the tribe, and traders and mercenaries in the southern border countries will trade such items.

Jura felt that she was being healed, and the great power of the old god that had been consumed in her body was also slowly recovering.

She was about to speak when she was stopped again.

"If you don't raise them well, how can you fight?" Meng said.

Jura swallowed back the words, and the struggling movement stopped.

Meng looked straight at her seriously, with a low voice, slightly indifferent: "I need you to recover as soon as possible, if the situation in the northern battlefield is worse than expected, and I don't come back in time..."

He paused slightly, took out the Sandon Kaya Gold Emblem, and placed it in Jura's palm.

This thing was given to him by Ken before he left, and it was made of gold nuggets donated by black market vendors as a symbol of the tribe's military power.

Now all the troops in the tribe have been transferred away, and the golden emblem has lost its meaning, but it is Mongolia's recognition of Jura.

His confidence in her strength and character.

Meng said: "I hope you can help me protect Thornton Kaya until the warring comes back."

The wolf's hair began to flow, and some mysterious magical power began to surge.

Meng stepped on the saddle, handed the anaconda to the other Heila, and then turned on the saddle, ready to head north at the fastest speed.

"Until you come back," Jura said.

"Ok?"

Meng turned his head again, only to see that the anaconda had stood up.

She didn't argue, and she didn't clamor to go north together.

Jura's eyes were also extraordinarily firm, revealing a kind of maturity that had never been seen in her whole body.

She said: "Ken Battle Banner handed over the tribe to you. I have no reason to keep the golden emblem, so you have to come back and fulfill the duel with me!"

Meng nodded, according to tradition.

He swore an oath before the coat of arms on his shoulder.

The wolf stepped forward, and for a moment, the sound of falling snow came from outside the winter pine forest, and then, a black spot appeared [-] yards away.

Its figure is fleeting, like a hallucination when the mind is dazzled.

When Meng went to the north, it was still dark and the night was dark.

……

Bartley was hit by heavy armor and broke his bones.

This is the case with cavalry. When rushing into a pile of mounts, it is easy to encounter enemies of completely unequal size.

His bonewing fell to his knees, the beast's blood drenched in mud, its severed head connected only to its neck by a shell.

Bartley drew the spear from his throat, then crouched in the pile of corpses, grinning and panting.

He has initially grasped the knack and knows how to slaughter this group of iron shells.

Bartley still feels pained.

He believed that the life of the enemy was not as good as the life of his mount.

The loss of life has not stopped for a long time.

The surrounding battlefield was already devastated, and the snow had already turned into a sticky mixture in the morning light.

Batley grabbed the bone winged beast's saddle and crawled out. Two or three swordsmen wanted to attack, but were blocked by his companions in the formation.

There are only dense and various enemies left in his mind.

Live one more moment in the battlefield.

Block one more slash.

Roll over once more beheaded.

Even taking a breather among the hard-to-stay corpses...is a scalp-numbing victory.

Bartley's formation collided head-on with enemy light cavalry.

Snow commanded the northern garrison and some supporting soldiers to fight at the front of the Rift Canyon.

Bituro led the team to the center of the position on the high slope!

Is this the fifth... or the sixth charge?
Bartley can't recall it anymore. In short, the battle situation is basically stalemate.

After the reinforcements merged with the northern garrison, the numbers of the two sides were even. On a fairly familiar land, they fought back and forth with the well-trained city-state expeditionary force.

Seems reasonable, but always unsettling.

Bituro's command is very aggressive, and it can be seen that he is eager to defeat his opponent.

However, as a military city-state honed over the years near the permafrost wall, the strength of the enemy actually exceeded his expectations.

The situation of the battle did not develop according to Bituro's ideas.

The soldiers of the Pistonk Empire did not show up. He was surprised by the level of the enemy's deadly battle, and he was caught off guard by various things.

Bartley heard Bituro's roar.

The sound is like a beast, deafening.

He is a follower of the old god Price, and like most dexterous spearmen, his perception is much sharper than that of ordinary people.

He seemed to have caught the trace of his prey, and suddenly turned his head to look somewhere on the battlefield.

An enemy conjurer has opened the dusty ancient book.

The old manuscript was suspended in the air, and black lines began to appear under the conjurer's skin, and a fist-sized spherical object condensed along the trajectory of the fingers.

For each cursed orb that explodes, a warrior suffers a psychic attack.

He only picks those targets that perform well.

Every time you move your finger, the curse takes effect.

A very insidious trick, after all, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the ever-changing battlefield means brushing shoulders with death several times.

The conjurer activated the spell very quickly, the black balls exploded one after another, and his fingers began to tremble. The magic burden was heavy on him.

He condensed the three curses, his eyes wandered, as if he had picked the final target,

Batley looked in the direction and saw Snow who was leading the charge.

Before he could shout to stop it, he subconsciously pulled out the spear stuck on the corpse: a handle made of rhinoceros, with a hoarfrost ore steel head in front.

Bartley threw the weapon without thinking,
The moment the handle was released from his hand, a certain refreshing feeling spread throughout his body.

Every mature spearman knows that as long as there is a similar feel, it means a beautiful arc.

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