Although Lokos admired his father very much, but today is different, he will go all out to compete for the championship in a while, and he still wants to think carefully, formulate a set of clever plans, and win by surprise! So he said with some anxiety: "Got it! Dad, it's going to start soon, and I'll talk about it later......

Stoll must have been stunned by this kid's words!

Instantly understood what the stinky boy said, and went up and gave him a neck crutch: "Stinky boy! I'll talk about it later! What I'm going to tell you is the precautions for your competition, and I'll talk about it later, it's all wrong, you are stupid to go up, you won't get anything, listen!"

Rockos shrunk his neck, yes, the old man can't be provoked!

He said, "Okay, you say, I'll listen." ”

Stoll said, "...... You see, it was a stiff stump, about six feet above the ground, perhaps an oak tree or a pine tree, which had not yet been eroded by the rain, and on the trunk was two snow-white stones, one on each side, and this was the end of the journey, and the beginning of the return journey, surrounded by a comfortable plain, and when you got there, don't go any further, but come back quickly! This thing may be the remains of an ancient burial mound, or it may be the mark of a turning point in a car race set by a predecessor. At the same time, in a well-braided chariot, you must tilt your weight slightly to the left, and strike the right one with your whip to push it forward, let go of the reins and let it run as fast as you can, but to the left one, you must keep it as close as possible to the stump of the turn, so that the wheels of the rook look like they are grazing against its edge, but be careful not to really touch them, otherwise you will injure the horse and ruin the vehicle, and the result will only be pleasing to your opponent and dishonoring your own face; therefore, my child, think a little and be careful。 If you can hold on to your opponents and throw them down at the bends, then no one will be able to make amends, and no one will be able to catch up with you, even if the opponents behind you will be able to catch up with the best galloping horses captured by the great horses of the East City. ”

After Stoll had finished speaking, he sat back in his seat, and he had told his son what he needed to know about racing and his own experience.

The fifth runner in the glove car was Menes, and when all the competitors boarded the carriage and threw the stones into their helmets.

Nodin waved his hand, and Rokos's stone lot landed first, then the mighty Omelos struck his lane, followed by the famous gunsmith Moreus. Menes took his position, followed by Mordes, who were the standout of COSCO, to take the fifth starting position. They lined up at the starting point, Noudin pointed out the place of the turn, and erected it all the way on the plain, and a referee had been sent to observe the race and bring back a real report.

When all was ready, the riders hoisted their whips, struck their spines, and shouted loudly to urge them forward, and the galloping horses rushed out and scattered their hooves over the plains, and in an instant they threw the ships far away, and under the horses' breasts, the mud and dust rose and flew like clouds in the sky or a whirling storm, and on the nape of their necks, long manes fluttered along the wind.

The horses of the chariots were drawn and galloped forward, sometimes clinging to the land that had nourished us, sometimes leaping off the ground, and the riders stood in the chariots, their hearts pounding, eager for victory, and each shouting to their horses, which staggered through the muddy plains.

But when the swift horses set out on the final leg of the race, heading back towards the grey-blue sea, the riders all did what they could, and on the field, the horses squeezed every ounce of leg strength. In the blink of an eye, Melos, riding the pair of fast horses with quick hooves, ran ahead first, followed by the two horses of Medus, the good horses of the eastern city, closely following behind, not far apart, as if they could pounce on the chariot in front at any moment, spewing out the steaming heat, baking Melos's back and broad shoulders, and the horse's head almost hung over him, and he flew in hot pursuit.

At that time, Modus was likely to catch up or run out of a decisive situation, but the angel Apollo came to make trouble, and out of resentment against Modus, he knocked down the whip from his hand.

Seeing Melos's horse rushing far ahead, and his own horse slackening his legs without the whip, the rider was filled with resentment and tears, but the sheep-eyed angel saw Apollo's teasing of Modus, flew down to the soldier's shepherd, picked up and returned his whip, and poured courage into the horse's legs.

Then, in his rage, the sheep-eyed angel pursued Melos, the son of Methos, smashed the yoke in front of the car, drove the horse to separate and ran on both sides of the lane, and the pole stumbled and collided, throwing Melos out of the car and throwing him down beside the rim, and wiping his elbows, lips, and nostrils, and on his forehead, and around his eyebrows, and breaking his skin and flesh, so that his eyes were watery and his thick voice was choked at this time.

Meanwhile. Modes rode his horse around his opponent's carriage and rushed forward, leaving the others far behind, and the sheep-eyed angel had injected courage into the horse, making it glorious to the rider.

The brown-haired Murauth ran behind him, and Lokos, who was now third, shouted to his father's horse, "Come on, you two! I do not want you to compete with the horses of the leading pair of horses, the skilful horses of Medus, for the sheep-eyed angels have given them the courage to run and give glory to the riders, but I want you to speed up and chase after the horses of Moreus, and do not let them leave you behind, or you must not forget that the horses of Medus are a horse, and they will put you to shame! Stoll, shepherd of soldiers, will no longer caress you, and I warn you that there is no falsehood in this: there is no more caresse, but on the contrary he will kill you both at once, with a sharp bronze sword, if we are rewarded inferiorly for your slackness!

Rockos said that, fearing the rebuke of his master, the horse quickened his pace and galloped for a while. Suddenly, the fierce and fierce Lokos saw a narrow stretch of roadway in front of him, and a cracked mud puddle had accumulated and the winter rain had washed away, breaking a cavinating road surface in that area.

At that very moment, Meraus drove his horse close to the ruined lot, and tried to cross the remaining remnants of the road first, but Lokos rounded his horse all over the road, and then turned back and chased after his opponent, and Merus was frightened, and shouted at him: "Lokos, you are also called a chariot? You are like a madman! Hurry up and stop your steed! The road is narrow, but it will soon be wide and comfortable." Be careful, don't crash and ruin your carriage!"

Meraus warned him so, but Rokos hurried harder, whipping his horse to run faster, and did not seem to hear his cry at all.

Like a whirling loaf of bread, the thrower was a young man, trying to gauge his strength, and for all this distance they had been racing in parallel, and then Meraus's horse gradually fell behind, for he took the initiative to slow down the horse's forward momentum, fearing that the fast horses would collide in the middle of the road, and overturn the sturdied chariot, and the riders of the rook would plunge headlong into the mud, and their struggle and hope of victory would be cut off.

Facing the advanced driver Rockus, the brown-haired Merus yelled: "Rockus, there is no more poisonous scoundrel in the world than you! Run, damn it! The people of Westside are all blind and think you are a reasonable person, but even so, you don't want to take the prize, unless you swear a curse!"

With that, Meraus turned to his horse, and cried out, "Do not slow down, do not stop, though your hearts are filled with sorrow! Their knees and legs are not as strong as yours, and it will not be long before they become weary and weak—the years of youth no longer belong to them!"

Hearing the angry voice of his master, the horse was frightened, quickened his steps, and soon approached the opponent who was running in front.

At the same time, the people of Xicheng gathered in the arena and sat on the ground to watch, and on the plains, the horses galloped through the flying mud and dust.

Menuus, the chief of the main participants in the coalition, was the first to see the returning horse, sitting on a towering and sight-friendly lookout point, away from the crowd, and heard a shout in the distance, and had heard whose voice it was, and he saw a horse, leading the way, striking and chestnut-red, except for a white spot on his forehead, which was round in shape, like a full moon.

Menius stood up and shouted to his people, "Friends, the leaders and rulers of our people, am I the only one in the army, or all of you, to see the galloping horses?" Melos's horses must have met with a sad thing somewhere in the plain, and on the way they had seen them turn the stakes and run ahead, but now I could not find any sign of them, though I had searched every corner of the plain of the East City with my eyes wide open, and it must have been the rider who could not grasp the reins and lost control of the stump, so that the steer could not turn, and there it was, I think, that he had been thrown out of the ruined carriage, and that the steadler was terrified, and that he raised his front hooves and ran off the lane, and stood up, and looked with your eyes, for I could not tell the whole thing, but it seemed to be the mighty Modus who was at the front！”

At the same time, the swift Ugly rebuked rudely, "Why do you always like to talk so much, Menius?, and the horses with light hooves and legs are still far away from here, and are running fast over the wide plains. You're certainly not the youngest warrior in the army, and the eyes on your head are definitely not sharper than others. But you always like to babble and go, and you better not go on and on, in front of those who are better than you!

Hearing this, Menius was furious, and replied: "Don't be ugly, and scold the heroes of the field, foolish fools!, and besides, you are stubborn and stubborn, and you are the lowest fool! Come, let's bet, a copper tripod or a cauldron, and ask Nuo C to witness the arbitration, and see which pair of horses is ahead—and you will know this when you take out your things!"

As soon as he had finished speaking, he quickly shook his feet, and reciprocated with a rage, and then the dispute continued to heat up, but Nodin himself rose up to intercede, and said to them: "Enough, Noughin and Menius, stop shouting vicious words and insulting each other! Now is not the time for a tumult, and if there is such a fight, you will be furious, but sit down and watch with the others the galloping horses, which are fighting for victory, and will run back in an instant, and you will see for yourself which of our allied horses is the first and the second of the horses. ”

At the same time, Modus was running towards the finish line at the speed of a sprint, waving his whip and raising his shoulders to whip the horse, who raised his hooves and legs high and ran more cheerfully towards the finish line, and the horse's hooves rolled up the dust and threw themselves at the chariot driver, and the chariot wrapped in gold and white tin sped behind the trooping horses' hooves, and the shallow mud and dust, the rolling wheels left no clear rut marks, and the horses swept over the finish line like chasing the wind.

Merdes reined in his steeds, and in the center of the gathering place, the rain of sweat dripped, and the mud and dust fell down their necks and legs, and the rider jumped off the glittering carriage and leaned his whip in front of the yoke, and the sturdy steader Theros did not slack off, and when Mordes unloaded his horse, he ran briskly, took the prize, and handed the woman and the bronze tripod with An'er to his high-spirited companion Modus, and brought them back to the camp.

Then Rockus drove the horse all the way past Melaus, not by speed, but by cunning, but still the horse was in hot pursuit, and the distance was only a little between the wheels and the horses: the horses galloped with their hooves, pulling their masters and chariots through the plain fields, the ends of the horse's tails brushing the rolling rims, and the wheels in hot pursuit, rolling on the comfortable plains, separated only by a narrow space.

In the same way, Meraus ran behind the mighty Rockos, and the difference was only a little, and at first the distance behind was the equivalent of a throw from the cake, but he fought hard and shortened the distance, and the long-maned horse shook off the hooves and legs of the wind, and then, if he had run longer, he could have left him behind, so that they would not have to say much about it.

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