As dawn approached, the fire that had been burning in the mercenary cottage for half the night was finally extinguished.

At this moment, the entire mercenary cottage was almost burned down, and there were headless corpses scattered everywhere inside and outside the cottage, and more than 1,000 mercenaries who stayed behind in the cottage were all killed in this battle of breaking the village launched by the werewolves, and none of them were spared. The farthest escaped among the mercenaries was half a mile away from the gate of the cottage, and was killed by the werewolf warriors who were holding the only way in and out of the mountain.

As the sun leaps out of the Redstone Mountains and shines across the land, an eerie tower of human heads stands in the middle of the ruins of the square in the mercenary cottage.

This is the 'Jingguan' built by the werewolf warriors with 1,0093 mercenary heads. Compared with the orc tribe era, after a major war, the 'Jingguan' was often piled up with tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of enemy heads, this 'Jingguan' is much smaller in scale, and there is nothing surprising about it. However, when more than a thousand bloody human heads are piled up in one place, and even the sunlight shining on them seems to be coated with a layer of blood, the depression and fear brought by such a scene to people's hearts can still be imagined.

However, the werewolf warriors who are the creators of this terrifying human head tower naturally do not feel the slightest discomfort. They sat around the tower of the human head and were participating in the celebrations that took place after the victory in the battle.

The werewolf warriors set up a cauldron, took local materials, slaughtered the pigs and sheep raised in the mercenary cottage, put the meat into the pot, added water and cooked, and directly used the sword to insert the meat piece out of the bottom of the pot. As soon as the werewolf warriors had a mouthful of meat, they immediately poured a sip of inferior liquor scavenged from the cottage and ate it with great pois.

After two battles with the Bronze Dragon and the Mercenaries, the werewolf warriors were already hungry and panicked.

A desolate and majestic song resounded above the ruins of the square. Bogut and Matthew surrounded the tower of the human head, singing eulogy and dancing a sacrificial dance. The two shamans are using their singing and dancing steps to return the souls of the werewolf warriors killed in two battles to the arms of the god of war.

The Great Shaman Quentin did not preside over this post-war requiem ceremony, because he suffered a lot of internal injuries due to a single attack by the mysterious dragon in the form of an elf at the foot of Tiandu Peak, so he did not participate in the attack on the mercenary cottage, but returned to the Boulder Castle overnight. Quentin was in such a hurry, firstly, to treat his own injuries, and secondly, to report the encounter with the elven man to the Temple of Tampas. After Quentin came to Fort Boulder, he spent a lot of money to build a magic communication array that could communicate directly with the Temple of Tampas, through which Quentin was able to transmit all the news he had obtained to the Temple of Tampas thousands of miles away in a very short time.

Comparatively, of the two, reporting to the Temple of Tampas about meeting an elven man is much more important. Because the strength of the elven man is too terrifying, whether his real body is a giant dragon or not, it is far from being comparable to ordinary saint-rank powerhouses, and he is even very likely to have stepped into the god-level realm that is regarded by the continent's powerhouses as a heavenly chasm and almost insurmountable. Such a longitude and latitude day

The appearance of the strong man of the land on the grasslands of northern Xinjiang is not a big deal. Whatever his intentions, Quentin must bring the matter to the Temple of Tampas, and the High Priests of the Temple will decide whether or not they need to send someone to the Northern Prairie to find out the Elven man's identity and intentions.

At the moment when Bogut and Matthew's song sounded, the werewolf warriors who had been sitting on the ground eating meat and drinking stopped eating and drinking, and they all stood up in unison, singing and dancing in harmony. From time to time, werewolf warriors beat their chests and feet, and let out a long howl when they looked up to the sky, expressing the emotions in their hearts.

After the song and dance, the werewolf warriors sat down again, grabbed pieces of meat, or served wine bowls, and continued to eat and drink.

"Good!"

With a roaring shout, Blade drank down a large bowl of spirits, then wiped the wine stains from his mouth, and looked at Doto across from him with blazing eyes.

Seeing that the blade drank a large bowl of liquor in his mouth, and his eyes were still very clear, and there was no trace of hazy drunkenness at all, Doto's old face couldn't help but turn a little black.

Soon after the celebration feast began, Doto found the sharp blade and bluntly said that since the two of them had not won or lost the battle in the Boulder Castle, they would compete in wine today, and they would definitely have to divide the amount of wine.

For Doto's invitation to fight, Blade did not refuse. The two of them suddenly watched under the watchful eyes of dozens of werewolf warriors, and began to fight the wine one by one.

The drinks in the mercenary cottage are all inferior goods, and the taste is very bad, but the wine is unexpectedly strong, and it is extremely spicy in the throat. Many werewolf warriors will have red faces and red ears and dizziness after drinking two or three bowls; if they drink four or five bowls, their bodies will be weak and their steps will be unsteady; if any werewolf warrior drinks six or seven bowls, they must be drunk and fall to the ground.

The exceptions were Blade and Doto, both of whom drank surprisingly heavily.

At this moment, the two of them drank no less than ten bowls of spirits, but they still couldn't tell the winner. The amount of alcohol of the blade, like his martial arts, shocked everyone again. Doto has always been known as the number one drinker in the Bloodfang Cavalry Regiment, and no one in the cavalry regiment has ever drunk him, but this time, Doto will give up the title of the number one drinker if he doesn't do well.

As everyone had noticed that Blade's face was as normal and not drunk, Doto was in good condition, but his face and neck were beginning to flush slightly.

When Doto followed the blade and poured a bowl of liquor into his stomach, the blade suddenly smiled slightly and said, "Your Excellency, there are a lot of them, but it doesn't seem to be very enjoyable to drink like this!

As soon as the blade said this, the crowd around suddenly fell silent. Immediately afterwards, the crowd thundered with joy, and a burst of earth-shattering cheers erupted.

The wine barrels in the mercenary cottage are all small wine barrels, with a volume of only a dozen liters, but their capacity is far more than a wine bowl. Those who dare to use this kind of barrel to fight for wine and drink are not ordinarily strong.

The shouting of the blade to Doto instantly spread like the wind throughout the square, and the werewolf warriors who had not yet fallen to the ground were all surrounded by a hula

Come. Originally, it was just a crowd of dozens of onlookers, but it suddenly became black and oppressive, and thousands of people crowded together, surrounding the two of them.

Doto was also stunned when he heard this, and then said angrily: "Boy, you have a kind, today I just gave up this old life, and I want to drink it with you to the end!" After speaking, he grabbed a barrel of unopened spirits, unplugged the wine, held it in his hand, and drank it with his head up.

'Goo', 'Goo', 'Goo'......

After drinking the entire barrel of liquor in one go, Doto slammed the barrel down, and was about to laugh arrogantly a few times, but his eyes widened in disbelief.

Blade held a barrel of wine and drank it to himself, apparently the barrel was not finished. But beside him, there was a barrel that was already empty. What Blade is drinking now is clearly the second barrel of wine.

Doto's face twitched, his forehead sweated, he gritted his teeth, picked up another barrel, and drank wildly.

The barrels bottomed out one after another, and the two of them entered the ** stage, and the cheering, cheering and whistles of the werewolf warriors sounded in the square, and the atmosphere was extremely warm.

After holding his breath and drinking the fifth barrel of spirits, Doto was already flushed, his breathing was rapid, and he staggered under his feet, and it looked like he was about to fall. Still, he stood firm, his eyes wide open, and he tried to count the empty barrels at the feet of the blade.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, a whole eight empty barrels!

Doto let out an unwilling roar, picked up another barrel, and poured it to his mouth. However, this time, he hadn't even finished half a barrel of wine before he spit it out. With this vomit, the strength of the wine under Doto's strong pressure immediately surged, and he only felt that his one eye was black, his head was splitting, and the world was spinning. With a 'snap', Doto fell unconscious to the ground.

Doto originally wanted to overpower the blade in terms of the amount of alcohol, but in the end he was buried in a large pit he dug.

"Lord Doto is really defeated!"

"Shatterclaw actually drank down Lord Doto!"

"Dionysus, Dionysus!"

"Roar, I'm afraid that the amount of alcohol of Broken Claw can compete with Master Manstein, the panda wine fairy of the Panta clan, and our Wolf clan is about to give birth to a werewolf wine fairy now!. ”

Seeing that Blade was only slightly drunk after drinking the eighth barrel of spirits, the werewolf warriors cheered one after another. Although werewolves are not as heavy as dwarves, they are also good drinkers among the orc race. In particular, the warriors of the five powerful clans of the orcs have a tradition of equating the amount of alcohol with bravery. And the orcs have always admired the brave, and at this moment, the sharp blade completely conquered everyone with its amazing amount of alcohol.

The festival, which took place in broad daylight, did not end until the afternoon. The ruins of the square were littered with drunken werewolf warriors, and the scene of the victors sleeping soundly formed a very eerie picture with the headless corpses scattered here and there was a towering tower of human heads.