In the morning, the sun has not yet come out, and the weather is very pleasant.

After a good night's sleep, go out the door and stretch out, the gentle breeze brings the slightly astringent aroma of bitter vitex flowers in the distance, which is the most pleasant and comfortable time of the day.

But the "Wind Wolf" tribe didn't have the heart to enjoy this beauty, and had completely fallen into panic.

There has been no news of the warriors who had gone out yesterday since they started, and it was not until the early hours of the morning that a few of them came back in disarray, but they trembled as if they were suffering from malaria.

Their appearance speaks for itself, and the news of their defeat spreads like winter wildfire among the tribes.

Now that even the women and children knew that the warriors who followed the shamans had lost the battle, and the men were arguing fiercely about fleeing or waiting, but none of them could make up their minds to make a choice.

So they turned to attacking each other's immediate female relatives.

Losing nearly eighty percent of its warriors in one day is tantamount to a knife to the Storm Wolf Tribe. No matter how they choose, the fate that awaits them next will be more cruel than that of a hungry tiger.

Towards noon, centaurs began to roam around the tribe, occasionally bending their bows and firing two arrows into the station, slowly shrinking to defend them.

They were cautious and skillful, and did not rush to plunder this defenseless tribe.

This kind of performance is enough to show that they are all seasoned warriors, and it makes the Wind Wolf Tribe feel like falling into an ice cave.

And when the werewolves discovered with their outstanding eyesight that there was still a group of burly barbarians sneaking around the tribe, their determination to resist was instantly shattered into slag.

......

Richard didn't expect that werewolves, who had always been known for their tenacity, would choose to surrender so easily.

"My lord, werewolves are not wild wolves after all, why do they have to have the character of wild wolves?" Nehru, who was tied to a wooden stick and carried by two barbarians, was very aggrieved, "You Pompeii really have too much prejudice and discrimination against the locals. ”

"But I think you're a kobold with a lot of dog leg potential. Richard angrily led the way into the tribal quarters.

The people of Pompeii always regarded werewolves as monsters with grinding teeth and sucking blood, and everyone could use sorcery, even believing that they could transform into giant wolves on full moon nights.

But all Richard saw were three or four hundred herdsmen, at most shorter and more sturdy, with cattle and sheep in their pens and leather tents, which was far from the legend.

As a territory, the mountain fort is actually very imperfect, everyone is a warrior and there are no civilians at all, like a weapon with only a blade and no back.

Richard once thought about how to get the civilians of Pompeii to abandon their warm and rich homeland and come to live in this desolate and cold land, and came to the conclusion that they should go to sleep and have everything in their dreams.

At this moment, he suddenly realized that his vision was too narrow, why should he stick to Pompeii, these werewolf herdsmen could also become the subjects of the mountain fort, cultivating the land, grazing cattle and sheep.

Richard asked Hurt to lead the centaurs to drive the werewolf tribe away, and the women and children didn't know what was going to happen, and they cried out in fear. According to the rules of the wilderness that they are familiar with, it is very likely that they will be beheaded en masse!

Richard watched all this coldly, and his heart was unswayed. After all, it was the tribe that had met him with swords, and it was all his mercy that he didn't reduce everyone to slavery.

"Chief, what are we going to do?" Gunther thrust his spear back into his holster, feeling that there was little room for use.

"Let's rummage through the loot. Richard wasn't sure if he would be able to make a profit, after all, the tribe seemed 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 it is hidden!" it was uncomfortable for anyone to be hung upside down on a stick, and Nehru hurriedly seized the opportunity to explain loudly, hoping to get a little attention to solve it.

"You say!" Gunther lifted his leg with a kick, and the barbarians looked down on such soft bones.

The two barbarian porters deliberately made a mistake and gently lifted the stick, so that Gunther's toes hit Nehru's liver area, and the pain made his whole body tense into a trembling shrimp.

"What I said is true!" the kobold pinned his last hope on Richard, "their chief died yesterday, and only I know that there is a large bullskull in the chief's tent and gold nuggets in the chest buried underneath. ”

"Stop, Gunther. Richard waved his hand for Gunther to stop.

"Let's go over and see. ”

The chief's tent was easy to find, the best and most spacious location is.

After all, most of the wilderness people did not maintain hygienic habits, and there was a foul smell of smell coming from the tents. Several barbarians went over to cut the ropes that pierced the ground, buckled the bottom of the tent and used their strength together, and directly flipped over.

The exposed interior was a mess of fur, a bunk of hay and fur, and a few large mud urns for unknown use. In the center is a stone the size of a millstone, on which is a particularly large cow skull.

The barbarians moved away the rocks and skeletons, drew their spears and began to dig in the earth.

Richard suddenly smelled a strange smell, which seemed to originate from the large gray mud urns not far away, so he gently kicked Nehru and asked, "What's in there?" ”

"The chieftain and I haven't had time to open our own wine, and I don't know if it's successful. ”

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

The mud urn was filled with a dark brown and translucent liquid, on which floated large lumps of small black round particles, which had left a thick black residue on the walls of the urn due to the evaporation of water, and more importantly, there was no hint of wine at all.

"Boss, this thing must be lying, I think it's eighty percent witchcraft material. ”

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

Gunther babbled on and on about how to deal with Nehru to relieve his hatred, and it took a long time before he realized that the atmosphere was not right, and quickly shut his mouth.

Richard walked over, dipped his fingers in some dark brown liquid from the mud urn, put it in his mouth and sucked it.

He sighed suddenly.

It's so familiar, but it's so unfamiliar.

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 sunsets, and sunny spring noodles on winter nights...... It is extremely real, but it seems to be in the mirror, and there is only a piece of nothingness beyond the memory.

Sometimes Richard can't help but wonder if he is a man in two lives, whether it is Zhuang Gong who dreams of butterflies or Butterfly who dreams of Zhuang Gong.

The sun shone on his face, melancholy and calm, as if he had suddenly woken up from a deep dream.

"What is this, Chief?" asked Gunther cautiously.

"It's soy sauce. ”