This Group of Players Are All Slimes

The front-line commander felt that the situation in his barracks was a bit wrong recently.

Although it is a military camp in name, it is more appropriate to say that it is a large slaughterhouse.

Some hopeless scum, gangsters, and depraved people were sent here, and they would be sent to the battlefield the next day, and on the third day they would be trampled into meat sauce by the swarming corpses.

The city wall here is entirely made up of stones mixed with corpses. Flesh and bones are mixed in clay. After being exposed to the sun, it becomes a relatively strong city wall. Those walking corpses must work hard to break through the city wall.

The survival rate of the exiles sent here after the first impact is only 30%. Most of them can only understand how to find shelter after the first time and how to inspire the newcomers to stick to the wall and hide behind. , How to cut off the head of the dead companion to pretend to be military exploits in exchange for dinner tonight.

When there is no walking corpse attacking, they will wander around the battlefield to search, a bag of tobacco can make them fight, or do some very disgusting things to the trembling walking corpse.

The commander’s personal soldiers will not do this kind of thing. They don’t have to go to the battlefield. Their most important task is to protect the commander and also prevent those scumbags from rebelling or escaping.

But now, those people are not in the right condition.

They began to collect the hard branches on the ground and grind them into suitable long rods. They began to build stones and polished them into a disc shape. They erected two parallel branches on the ground and placed a length of about one meter in the middle. Five tree trunks.

In their spare time, they didn't go to collect loot, but in groups of three or five, using the props they created in batches.

The commander thought that this group of people was preparing to rebel, but when he saw this group of people starting to use these props to perform so-called "dumbbell presses", "dead pulls", and "squats", he felt that the situation was a bit weird.

Even more weird was the newcomer Luo Lin.

The tall and burly man walked among the scum with his upper body naked, shaking his chest from time to time and making deafening slogans.

"Those who can't kill you will only make you stronger!"

"No pain, no gain!"

"One more, one more, you can!"

"Pay attention to drinking water and protein! Only by eating well can we practice well! What is our goal!"

"Muscles!" a scum who was practicing deadlift roared, sweat mixed with saliva splashing around.

"Very good! Then what is our ultimate goal!"

"More muscle!"

"Very good! Go on!"

The commander with a haggard face and drinking inferior wine frowned at the scene below, and then called his adjutant.

"How long have they been like this?" the commander asked, pointing to the person below.

"Three days."

"Why didn't you report to me?"

"It has already been reported, along with that camp beef consumption record."

The commander rummaged on the messy table for a long time, and finally found both records.

"Last month, three hundred and ten cows were consumed, each with thirty-two copper coins. Has the price of beef increased recently?"

"The cattle raisers said that all the cattle have taken refuge recently, and there are not many cattle left."

"Let those high-ranking officers eat less cattle. It's too much once a week. Why are there bulls?"

"People's tastes always change. You should continue to read another report."

The commander glared fiercely at his cronies, but he could only helplessly shook his head and began to read another report.

Although he is the commander here in name, he also knows that he is just a display and a backer.

Victory has nothing to do with oneself, but it is very likely to be operated to the trial court. Failure will not escape and go to the trial court first. Anyway, it is a dead end, so it is better to be happy.

Half a bottle of wine was killed, and the inferior taste made him feel a little nauseous, but he still resisted the urge to vomit to suppress the feeling.

After all, only drunk can make him forget the unpleasantness here.

Looking through the report dizzyly, he felt that he knew every word on it, but he couldn't connect it.

Throwing the report away, he pulled up his crumpled military uniform and walked out staggeringly.

"Where are you going?" his adjutant shouted behind him.

"Go and meet that guy."

When he walked in front of Luo Lin, he glanced at the scumbags who were still actively working out and didn't care about him, and then fixed his gaze on Luo Lin.

"Rorlin? I don't care who you were before... Hiccup... Remember me! Here... Hiccup... I have the final say!"

Stepping forward, he lit half a cigar, and after a sip, he directly crushed the cigar on Luo Lin's chest, and then jumped up and grabbed Luo Lin's hair in order to give the other side a slap in the face.

However, he obviously underestimated the effect of alcohol. Instead of letting him grab the opponent's hair, he slipped and fell heavily to the ground.

The impact of the landing made his stomach tumble again, and the inferior wine he drank was mixed with stomach acid and poured out and splashed on the smelly clothes, making the commander look extremely embarrassed at this moment.

Several exiles wanted to laugh, but Luo Lin raised his hand to stop them.

Looking at this group of exiles, Luo Lin asked loudly, "Article 113!"

The exiles stood up subconsciously and shouted: "Don't laugh when others are down, and don't show off when others are down!"

"Just understand! Go on!"

Bending down, Luo Lin carried the vomiting and unable to control commander to his chapel, healed the opponent with his fists, then wiped the commander's face and hands clean, and gave him milk.

Then, he personally washed the commander's clothes quickly, squeezed the last drop of water from the clothes with brute force, and then hung them up before sitting opposite the commander.

"Is it better!"

"Be quiet, I'm starting to hurt my head now." The commander rubbed his head and said.

"That's because your physique is too weak! You have to keep fit, so that you can have a good physique, and you will be extra vigorous if you drink!"

"You think everyone is the same as you." In the corner of the room, the master painter who was still painting said dissatisfiedly, "Don't put your distorted common sense like youtiao on others, okay?"

"You are very dissatisfied with me, God Painter!"

"After drawing the muscles for three days, I feel like vomiting now when I see you! When can I stop!"

"Come on, I don't want to care about these things!"

"I care! No one told me that psionic weapons would be so troublesome when they awakened!"

The commander squinted his eyes and looked at the talking master painter, UU reading www.uukanshu.com felt that he might be really drunk.

Otherwise, why would I see a slime who can draw and talk.

After he recovered a little bit, he stood up and put on his dried military uniform.

Rejecting Luo Lin's company, he walked to the door and stopped, and said to Luo Lin behind him: "This time I owe you, but don't expect this to change my opinion of you."

"I didn't count on it! I just need to be myself!"

"Haha, hope."

"Wait a moment!"

The commander who was suddenly stopped turned his head and said, "What's wrong? If you have any needs, hurry up and I will satisfy them as appropriate."

"I don't know your name yet!"

"Does that kind of thing make sense... Forget it, I am Ferdinand II, a poor creature who has been deprived of his title."