Ride and Cut

　　 The sun has not yet come out in the morning, and the climate is very pleasant.

　　 After a good night's sleep, I went out and stretched out. The oncoming breeze brings a slightly astringent fragrance of bitter wattle flowers in the distance, which is the most pleasant and comfortable time of the day.

　　 But the "Hytest Wolf" tribe has no intention of enjoying this beauty, and has completely fallen into a panic.

　　 The warriors who went on the expedition yesterday have received no news since they started. It was only in the early morning that a few people came back in embarrassment, but they shivered and refused to speak like they had suffered from malaria.

　　 Their appearance has explained everything, the news of defeat spread in the tribe like wildfire in winter.

　　 Nowadays, even women and children know that the warriors who followed the shaman had lost the battle. Men fiercely argued whether to escape or wait, but no one could make up his mind to make a choice.

　　 So they turned to attack each other's direct female relatives.

　　 The loss of nearly 80% of the warriors in one day is tantamount to a blow to the main artery for the Storm Wolf tribe. No matter what you choose, the fate that awaits them will be more cruel than the hungry tiger.

　　 Near noon, centaur horses wandering around began to appear around the tribe. From time to time, they bent their bows and put two arrows into the resident, slowly shrinking to defend.

　　 They are very cautious and skillful, and they are not eager to take this tribe that lacks defensive power.

　　 This kind of performance is enough to show that they are all experienced warriors, making the Dustwind Wolf tribe feel like falling into an ice cave.

　　 And when the werewolves found out with their outstanding eyesight, there was also a group of burly barbarians sneaking in on the tribe, their determination to resist instantly shattered into a scum.

　　...

　　 Richard did not expect that the werewolf, who has always been known for his toughness, would choose to surrender so easily.

"My lord, the werewolves are not wild wolves after all, why do they have to have the character of a wild wolf?" Nehru, who was tied to a wooden stick and carried by two barbarians, was very aggrieved. Prejudice and discrimination."

　　 "But I think you kobolds clearly have dogleg potential." Richard led his head into the tribe resident without angrily.

　　Pompeii folks always regard werewolves as monsters that grind their teeth and **** blood. Everyone can use sorcery, and they even think that they can transform into giant wolves on the night of the full moon.

　　 But what Richard saw was only three or four hundred herders, at most smaller and more dignified. There were cows and sheep in the stalls, and they also lived in leather tents, which was far from the legend.

　　 As a territory, the Alpine Fort is actually very imperfect. Everyone is a soldier but no civilians at all. It is like a weapon with only blades and no backs.

　　 Richard once thought about how to make Pompeii civilians abandon their warm and rich hometown and come to live in this desolate and cold land. He concluded that hurry up and go to sleep. There is everything in your dreams.

　　At this moment, he suddenly realized that his vision is too narrow, why stick to Pompeii, these werewolf herders can also become the subjects of the alpine castle, farming the land, grazing cattle and sheep.

　　 Richard asked Hutt to lead the centaur to drive away the werewolf tribe and relocate. The women and children didn't know what was going to happen, and they were so scared that they cried loudly and jumped. According to the wild rules they are familiar with, it is very possible to be beheaded collectively!

　　 Richard looked at all this coldly, and his heart could not be disturbed. After all, it was the tribe he had met with swordsmen, and not degrading everyone to slaves was all his mercy.

　　 "Boss, what are we doing?" Gunther inserted the spear back into the holster on his back, feeling that there was not much room for him to play.

　　 "Let's find out if there are any trophies." Richard is also not sure if he can gain. After all, this tribe seems to be completely synonymous with backwardness.

"I know the tent of the Chief of the Storm Wolf tribe! It contains their savings for generations! I know where to hide!" It is uncomfortable for anyone to be hung upside down on a stick. Nehru hurriedly seized the opportunity to confess, hoping to Get a little attention to solve it.

　　 "If you say it!" Gunther raised his leg with a kick, and barbarians looked down upon this kind of cartilage.

　　 The two barbarians deliberately mistreated the husband, and gently lifted the stick, so that Gunther's toes were hitting Nehru's liver, and his whole body was strained into a trembling shrimp.

"What I said is true!" The kobold pinned his last hope on Richard. "Their chief was dead yesterday. Only I know that there is a big bull skull in the chief's tent, and there are gold nuggets in the box buried underneath. ."

　　 "Stop, Gunther." Richard waved Gunther to stop.

　　 "Let's go over and take a look."

　　 Chief’s tent is easy to find, the best and most spacious one.

　　 After all, most of the wild people did not maintain the habit of hygiene, and a smelly smell came out from the tent. Several barbarians cut off the ropes that pierced the ground, buckled the bottom of the tent together, and turned them over.

　　 The exposed interior furnishings are very messy, a bunk piled up with hay and fur, and a few large mud urns that do not know what to do. There is a stone as big as a millstone in the center, and there is a huge bull skull on it.

　　The barbarians moved away the rocks and skeletons, drew out their spears and started digging.

　　 Richard suddenly smelled a weird smell, which seemed to originate from those big gray mud urns not far away, UU reading www.uukanshu. Com then gently kicked Nehru and asked, "What's in there."

　　 "The chief's own wine and I have not had time to open it. I don't know if it succeeded."

　　 "Wine?" Gunther's eyes lit up, and he slapped open the mud seal of the urn. He looked down, and the excited expression on his face immediately collapsed.

The mud urn is full of dark brown and translucent liquid. There are **** lumps of small round particles floating on the urn. As the water evaporates, thick black residues are left on the wall of the urn. More importantly There is no smell of alcohol at all.

　　 "Boss, this guy must be lying. I think 80% of them are witchcraft materials."

　　 The moment he opened the mud seal, Richard's state suddenly became very wrong. The whole person was loose, his mouth half-opened and motionless as if he had lost his soul.

　　 Gunther was talking about how to deal with Nehru to relieve his hatred. It took a long time to realize that the atmosphere was not right, so he closed his mouth quickly.

　　 Richard walked over, dipped his fingers in some dark brown liquid in the mud urn, and put them in his mouth to suck.

　　 He sighed suddenly.

　　 It's so familiar, but it smells so strange.

　　 I thought that those distant things had been forgotten a long time ago, but I didn't expect that they had been hidden in the depths of memory and never faded.

　　His whole life: familiar friends, close lovers, tacit partners, magnificent sunset, winter night's sunny face... It is extremely real, but it is like a mirrored flower, and there is nothing but nothing outside of reminiscence.

　　 Sometimes Richard couldn't help but wonder whether the two generations were humans, whether it was Zhuang Gongmengdie or Diemeng Zhuanggong.

　　 The sun shines on his face, melancholy and calm, as if awakened from a deep dream.

　　 "Boss, what is this?" Gunther asked carefully.

　　 "It's soy sauce."