A soldier who looked about thirty years old, sat on the grass and stretched out his feet in a figure-eight shape. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

"Midas, god of the steppes! Allow the men of the house of Huremus to greet you with a timid heart. ”

The soldier muttered to himself, looking up at the clear sky. His lips were dry and cracked, and bright red blood oozed from his flesh.

The three quivers on the left are empty, and the Stubborn Sheep's Horn Bow is pressed against them. Next to the bow was a fine scabbard, and the steel knife had been broken and plunged diagonally into the grass.

"Hey, I'm going to die, let's go.. I can't walk anymore. Midas, god of the steppe, please forgive me!"

The soldier gasped for breath, removed the armor weighing sixteen kilograms, and laid it on the ground. Hundreds of pieces of iron resembling willow leaves were tightly joined together, concealing the three quivers and the delicate scabbard.

"Uncle Mozhigen, the Maharaja has agreed to your request. ”

A young man in his mid-fifteens ran quickly towards the soldiers, cloaked in thick leather filled with strong wind and making a miserable sound.

"Allah."

When the soldier heard the young man's voice, he turned his head away, and with a smile in his eyes, he called softly.

Allah is the youngest knight of the Beacon Iron Horseman, the man who is regarded as a hero in this steppe, and the Aha of his own child.

"Uncle Morrigan, the Maharaja has allowed your child, the last man of the Hurmus family, to be removed from the battlefield. The young man named Allah crouched down, glanced over his armor, and instead stared at Morrigan's open heart. There was a bloody hole in the upper part of the chest, and the blood glowed red and black against the yellow glow.

It was an arrow wound, and it seemed that in the past few days, Mozhigen's wound had developed sepsis.

Morrigan saw Allah's eyes looking at his wounds, and his eyes were cloudy with a miserable smile.

He still thinks back to the battle with the army and horses of the Lu State a few days ago, and his back will be cold. On the grassland, in front of him were soldiers with their hands and feet pillowing each other, and the corpses were scattered on the grass, staining the dead grass that had faded blue red.

In that battle, he returned to the Huangyang tribe with an arrow wound, and by the time he had time to treat the wound, it was too late.

"Allah, young Beacon Iron Rider, are you afraid?" Morrigan glanced down at the bloody hole, his face even more bitter.

His fourteen-year-old child lived alone on the steppe, silently prolonging the blood of their Khulmus family.

Facing Morrigan's questioning, Allah stared into the other man's cloudy eyes. He wanted to use his burning blood to roar as much as possible in front of this dying soldier, "The knight of the Beacon Iron Rider will never be afraid of death, and he is willing to always charge forward." ”

But before he could say anything, his throat just rolled, and his gaze became complicated. He pulled his steel knife out of the exquisite scabbard, raised it high, and with a voice that the two of them could hear, he slowly moved the knife to his chest as he spoke, and pressed it tightly, "Uncle Mo Rigen, the prince said that those who are afraid will become slaves of the Lu country, do you say it will be?"

"Allah, young child, Midas, the god who needs to be worshipped on high, we are all slaves before him, but have you ever been afraid?" Morrigan smiled, his lips pale from the bone-chilling wind, and he felt like he couldn't open his eyelids.

He silently said to himself in his heart, "It turns out that death is like this, it is like this, the death I once feared....."

Allah's eyes rolled, and he stared to the east, where not far away was the military camp of the Lu country. No one can say when the Luda will launch a third round of offensives.

"Lu is not a god, Midas is. In front of Lu Guo, I will not be afraid. Allah pulled the steel knife, and the blade seemed to cut through the solidified wind, making a whirring voice.

"Hah... Hah..."

Mo Rigen raised his head and laughed, and in a moment he coughed violently again, and the hole in his chest was bubbling with foul-smelling blood, and the arrow wound was pulled again, revealing the blackened flesh beneath the blood.

"Allah, young warrior, are you telling me that you are afraid? You are afraid of the strong, and you are willing to be the slave of the strong. Midas, the warrior of the Maharaja of the steppes. The reason why you are charging forward is because in your heart Lu is not as strong as Midas and the Maharaja, right?"

"Fight for the steppe, fight for the freedom of your compatriots. I, Allah, am not a slave, and even if I bow down at Midas's feet, I will still choose to stand up if I think of the distance. The sound of the knife sheathed, Allah stared at Mo Rigen, and spoke again in a low voice, "Uncle Mo Rigen, Bai Yin will not come, the Maharaja sent soldiers to send him back." ”

"Sent back?"

Hearing Allah's direct reply, Mo Rigen's eyes instantly darkened, like a dying beast.

"No, Allah, one of the men of my family of Hurmus must live. Why doesn't the Maharaja agree, are you lying to me?"

His dark gaze brightened for a moment, and Morrigan stared at Ala's face. He didn't believe that if the Maharaja agreed to let his child leave the battlefield, his child would not come to see him, the dying Abba.

"Uncle Mo Rigen, Bai Yin was really sent back safely by the Maharaja. ”

"Boy, you're lying to me, you're lying to me. Truth-tellers don't have the same tone in their voices. Why? I can't die of the family of Hulemus. Allah, do you know? I, the family of Hulemus, are left with only Baiyin, he must live, my children must... Alive. Morrigan roared hysterically with all his strength, the green tendons on his forehead were hideously exposed, and the hole in his chest was torn more and more terrifyingly.

The roar spread across the grassland, and Allah buried his head down, the steel knife in his hand not knowing whether to clench or release for a moment.

He was silent for a long time, and when he saw the appearance of Mo Rigen hanging with a sigh of relief, his heart was sour again.

"Tell me that the men of the Hurmus family dare to accept any cruel truth. Allah, I'm dying, I want an answer. As Allah hesitated, Morrigan's voice came again.

As he said this, Morrigan curled up his feet and knelt on the ground, his upper body tilted towards Ala, and he reached out with a hand to grasp Ala's trouser legs, and his bloodless hand looked a little swollen.

"Uncle Mozhigen, Bai Yin said that he has always remembered. ”

"What does he remember?"

He remembered that when he was young, his father lifted him up in the air, and told him in the morning light that the man on horseback would never shrink back, and that the man of the Banu Hurmus would forever look down on the weak. ”

"Huh... Ha.. Bai Yin, my child, are you hating me? Hate me for making you a man who retreats, but we are the only ones in the Hulemusi family, only you..."

As a soldier's father, as a soldier. After hearing Ala's words, Mozhigen instantly understood, and he remembered that the child once pulled out a silver-white knife in front of his own Aba and vowed to be a brave warrior.

"Baiyin... Baiyin...."

The voice became quieter and quieter, and Mo Rigen swallowed the breath that was hanging, and when his eyelids were about to be lowered, he saw a horse in the distance, and on top of the horse was a young man in armor.

"Alive... It is... Slave, that dead.. What about the white voice... Abba hopes... You're alive...."Before the muttered words could be finished, Morrigan's head hung down heavily.

In the distance, the horse sounded the cry of the young man in armor, and in the distance, where the smoke and dust were rising, the soldiers of the Chu State had already set out again.

(In learning to drive, time is a little too much.) ）