"Damn, you guessed it!" Aetius looked at the sudden change in the distance, shook his head with a wry smile helplessly, and then turned away.

"I've said a long time ago that Attila couldn't just die so simply." Luga smiled, like a teenager who had won a bet.

"Torrismon! Torrismon! ”

Merlovi came from behind, he pushed away the crowd in front of him, grabbed Torrismon, who was busy like crazy, and said to him eagerly: "The Hun army has returned, and the defeated enemy in front of it has returned to the battlefield at this time, and Attila is calling them, I don't know what method was used to make them regain their courage and return to the battlefield to continue to fight against us!" ”

"Damn it, damn it!"

Torrismon roared like a lion roaring in the grassland, so angry and unwilling, like a mad patient, he swung the axe in his hand and slammed it at the half-chopped wood.

The instigator of his father's murder was right in front of him, just separated by a wooden wall.

Torrismon was still not reconciled, he had already exhausted all his strength, but he began to pull out the axe stuck in the wooden wall with the severe pain of losing his strength.

His trembling hands gripped the axe tightly, and his forehead was covered with beads of sweat, and more beads of sweat as he gargled down his slightly pale cheeks. There were tears in the mix, pouring from Torrismon's swollen red eyes.

He roared, longing for the piece of wood in front of him to collapse quickly, but his strength became weaker and weaker, and the wood in front of him did not move.

"Damn it! Damn it! ”

Torrismon lived like a wayward child, roaring and swinging an axe like a coquette, but such a funny act was mixed with how much helplessness and unwillingness in it, and the pain shown by Torrismon was clearly seen by everyone present.

The various Hun slave tribes that had returned to the battlefield were rapidly approaching the Goths, especially their cavalry, which was already only a stone's throw away from the Goths.

"Whoosh..."

A sharp sound swept by, and the Goths' shields were filled with arrows that were still trembling.

"Torrismon, it's too late!"

Merloway turned back to urge the wouldn-give up fellow, Torrismon was still chopping the wood in front of him, screaming, tears and sweat falling from his eyes, he gasped for breath, exhaustion made him breathless as if he had asthma.

"Let's go, Torrismon, there's no time, there's no time!"

Seeing that the situation was not good, Merloway yelled and grabbed Torrismon's shoulders and brutally stopped Torrismon's willfulness.

"Ahh

Toris screamed at the sky, and finally rolled his eyes out of grief and anger, and passed out in a coma.

"Retreat! Fall back! ”

Seeing Torrismon faint, Merloway didn't dare to hesitate at this time, he shouted loudly to the Gothic soldiers behind him with a puzzled look, and beckoned several soldiers beside him to carry the already unconscious Torrismon back, leaving only the battle axe still deeply embedded in the wood.

The Goths and the fellows who had followed them to Attila for their lives passed by soaking wet, and then came back soaking wet.

In front of them, the Roman soldiers had already begun to set up camp and clean up the battlefield.

They were busy disposing of the enemies who were not dead, and they even dragged thousands of dead horses back to the camp, because that would be the next food.

The Visgoths were brutally driven back by the various barbarian tribes who had returned to the battlefield, and they passed in front of the Romans, and their confusion and resentment caused them to begin at this moment, and a rift appeared in the relationship between the alliances.

This is not surprising, since the Romans did not see them as allies in the first place, of course, they only had to work together to deal with some problems under certain circumstances, and the rest of the friendship was not worth mentioning at all.

Attila had been battered, and he could no longer launch any decent attacks on Gaul, so it seemed that the current alliance could end hastily.

"My king, they retreated!"

Beneath the pile of saddles, Odystes pointed to the slowly retreating Goths not far away and spoke loudly to Attila, his voice trembling and expressing clear delight.

Attila stood on a high place, naturally seeing the scene clearly, and he was now holding a torch like a statue, staring blankly ahead.

I'm afraid he didn't even expect it to turn out like this, he didn't even know what he was going to do.

As if relieved, the tightly collapsed nerves in the limbs relaxed, followed by exhaustion.

His legs were weak, and he fell to his knees in the saddle, and if the soldiers who had come to meet him had not pounced on him and snatched the torch from his hand in time, he might have set himself on fire.

Attila was lifted up by dozens of soldiers and slowly carried down the hill of saddles and came to Odeses.

Attila couldn't stop breathing, he looked up at the darkening sky, the dark red sky, and in the dim there was an eagle hovering, flying there alone.

Alive, he survived, as usual, probably never so close to death, and the joy of the rest of his life made him open his mouth, but he didn't make a sound.

"Haha, hahaha, hahahaha..."

With his mouth open to the sky for a long time, unbridled laughter rang out, and Attila slowly entered his tent surrounded by a large crowd of soldiers, and in this way, his laughter never stopped.

Torismon's body was thus carried by Visgothic soldiers and Franks, who deliberately passed in front of the Romans, especially Luga and Aetius.

It was a silent demonstration, and it was not difficult to see their attitude towards the Romans' choice of spectators with a hint of anger on everyone's expressions.

But this is just a demonstration, and it's just a demonstration. Augustus Luga would not have taken this seriously, nor would Aetius, as the captain of the army, and the Romans had to consider the potential threats of the future and assess them and act accordingly, and this bystander was one of the actions, although controversial, but the Roman authorities had to think about the future of Rome.

This was unthinkable to the barbarians, who did not have so many concerns, so they were still a little immature compared to the scheming Romans.

They are learning, learning how to be "Romans", and that's what the real Romans are worried about, the barbarians have Romanized, replacing the original Romans, so where do the Romans go? They are born to look down on these barbarians who eat shallots, and think that their mouths full of green onions and then speak Latin, which is an insult to Latin.

Still standing by the river, looking at the torches lit on the other side, Attila's remnants of his army finally let their guard down.

Luga looked at Attila's camp, and he didn't expect Attila to be looking at him from afar on the side wall at this time.

These two kings, from the Balkans to Gaul, seem to have finally distinguished between a high and low, or not, far from it.