There were no more enemy soldiers surrounding him, only the road to the council chamber. He ignored the blood and sore muscles that seeped into his eyes, ignored the deafening roar and the screams of his companions, and didn't even care if his feet were hit by a rocket and caught on fire, he was going to find Illia and protect her.

"Ilia!"

"Princess Elia!"

Reinforcements had finally arrived, but civilians with iron forks in their hands. Bringing spatulas and shovels from their homes, they battled the Koeman Army with glazed eyes, proving their loyalty to Ilia's powerful magic with their lives.

You idiots.

The person you swear to protect may be the enemy who brutally kills your own children.

The most terrifying thing is that Ilia doesn't realize how cruel and twisted she is.

"Ilia ——!"

Suddenly, there was a sound of cracking masonry overhead, and a dragon-winged angel rushed up.

Through the afterglow of the dark red sky, Brant saw that the dragon-winged angel was still holding a man in his hand, and he was screaming in a terrible way. The Dragon-Winged Angel bowed his head and said something to him, and the man begged for mercy loudly, damn it, it was that coward from Parson, he must have betrayed Ilia!

"Let him go, you coward! Come and duel with me! Brandt pointed his sword at the sky, afraid that Parson would reveal the secret he wanted.

"As you wish." The woman in the sky said, the voice exactly the same as it had been heard on the Roaring Dragon!

Then, with one hand in her hands, as if to salute the prince, Parson's fat body rolled down the soup pot like a meatball and landed on the ground in front of Brandt. The hateful clown had finally ended his vicious life, and if it weren't for Ilia's magic, Brant would have broken all the bones in his body with a hammer to distribute them to the families who lost their children.

At this moment, Brandt's wish was almost fulfilled - the creature fell like a rotten watermelon, and blood splattered the prince's body. His eyes were still wide open in disbelief, his lips wriggling like maggots, and Brant spat at him in disgust, turning to point at the big bird in the sky, "Give Princess Elia back!" ”

"Also in this way?" The dragon-winged angel laughed, and she sent a few lightning bolts at Brant in the sky, and without stopping for long, as if she had more important things to do, she hurriedly led the men and horses away.

By the time Brant stormed the council chamber, the battle was over and everyone was on the ground, both the enemy and the Crescent defenders. After this terrible battle, the council chamber was filled with the strange smell of iron and oak shields chopping, and Brant shook his head to realize that it was blood, a strong smell of blood.

The prince picked up a torn doll from the ground, its gray skin with deep scratches that would have passed out in pain if it were still alive.

Morin, Ilia, where are you?

Everything in the council chamber was smashed as far as possible, and even the throne where Elija used to sit was toppled aside. The antler candlestick fell under the curtains, and the remaining flames ignited a raging fire, constantly changing its vivid colors. An eerie smell flowed through the hall and an orange glow spread across the dome. The ordinary flames of red or yellow compete with the magical flames of emerald and jade, giving birth to countless fleeting shadows. The verdant dawn turned into twilight. The air itself has a scorching smell, like a stewed broth. Embers flutter in the night sky like swarms of fireflies.

No Koman, no Elija.

Morin, Ilia, oh my God, they are still children, where will they be at this moment? If you lose them, you will lose the whole war.

Phoenix, on the flagship, looked at the rough sea, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I'm finally here.

The Phoenix moved forward with the full tide, and the fickle wind blew the sails with a flutter. The Sand Soul and the Wolf Warrior were separated on either side, and the ship-to-ship space was no more than twenty yards apart.

The rumbling battle horn crossed the sea, whistling and hoarse, like the call of the devil, and the ship passed it on from ship to ship. "Collect the sails," Phoenix ordered, "lower the mast." The oarsmen are in position. The captain gave the order. The crew hurried to their posts and pushed away the soldiers standing on the ship—they always seemed to be in the way.

Phoenix looked southeast, staring at Crescent City.

I'm coming to take you over, and whoever said that the land of the Sand Riders is gone, you're about to follow my name!

The Phoenix is named after the commander of the navy, but Phoenix is almost as unfamiliar with her as the sea at this moment. Although he had been looking through the charts along the way, he knew that she had three hundred oars, that the deck was lined with ballistas, and that a trebuchet was placed in the bow and stern to throw burning asphalt barrels. Not only is she intimidating, but she's also very agile and fast. However, he still knew nothing about the construction and driving principles of sea vessels.

It doesn't matter, as long as she can win.

The trumpet sounded again, and the enemy ships in the opposite sea area were clearly discerning.

Phoenix shouted, "Columns. "A hundred blades entered the water at the same time, and the oars roared and beat the drum. The sound of the drum is like a huge and gentle heartbeat, and every time it is struck, the oars move one point, and the hundred people are one, and they are uniform.

The Sand Soul and the Wolf Warrior also spread their wooden wings at the same time, and the speed of the three ships was the same, and the blades stirred the black water. "Slow down!" Captain Dylan shouted. The fleet came from Neverwinter's own navy, with ships of varying structure and size, and the silver-hulled Tidehead Glory had sailed into the port side of the Sea Spirit and reached its intended position, and the gong followed, but the Old Woman had just released its oars into the water, and the Seahorse was slower, and the mast lowering was not yet complete. There are always some old bones that should be whipped with rattan, Phoenix looked impatiently at his fleet, and sure enough, in the back, far to the south, the Magic Essence slowly swallowed as always, dragging on to the end.

"What kind of boats are on the other side?" Phoenix beckoned for the captain's binoculars, muttered to himself, and then laughed, "Are they really incompetent or are they having another conspiracy to take the lead with merchant ships?" ”

"If it were me, I wouldn't despise merchant ships." Captain Dylan stroked his red beard, "Most merchant ships are equipped with sophisticated weapons to guard against pirates, and some even pay a lot of money to invite magicians to help, if we rush close, we will suffer." "His knowledge of ships, paddles, and coasts is unparalleled in the Six Nations, and he has betrayed others to survive, yes, he is Dylan, the captain of the Happy Harvest, who sold himself to Corman after Victor spared him.

(l~1`x*>+``+