Ye Feng looked sideways at the two sides in the fight, and a wave of happiness struck. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info Jin Ge Iron Horse, Horse Leather Shroud, is a man's highest dream. The two hundred-man teams were like two roaring trains, frantically colliding together. It's like a hammer hitting a soldering iron, sputtering dazzling sparks.

"Today I want to take a good look at how my warriors will fight for me, and I have given them a lot, wealth, life, and ideals. Now see what they can do for me! ”

Ye Feng narrowed his eyes and asked with an indulged expression. Ulding beside Ye Feng was also full of smiles, with a sunny smile on his face, and said sincerely:

"Both legions are direct legions, and they are the strongest and most elite soldiers of the forty-three legions. The game will be very exciting, and I assure you that it will not be worse than the most majestic Colosseum in Rome, and the sport of these young men is very interesting, except that there is no blood. ”

Ye Feng nodded slightly, and looked at the two legions carefully.

The regiment of the young centurions was the Bull Legion, and the number was the Third Legion. The legion of adult centurions is the Golden Wolf Legion, and the number is the Fourth Legion.

At this time, Ye Feng really felt as if a huge bull was staring at the opposite side. And the Golden Wolf Legion on the right is also not weak, like a cunning wolf, constantly wandering looking for an opportunity to strike a fatal blow.

The two legions collided with almost no suspense.

The twenty people in the front row held up a huge round shield and held the long sword firmly, and the long sword pointed at the enemy. Contrast the restlessness of the Bulls, and the frenzy of madness. The Wild Wolf Legion was extremely quiet, and they just formed a tight phalanx without saying a word.

Bang bang bang!

Shield to shield, shield to man, sword to sword, sword to shield, sword to man.

Both sides were crying uncontrollably at the moment, roaring, invective, and screaming.

Vent your inner fear with a roar, and frighten your enemies with a roar.

The legions of adult centurions are all seasoned hunters, they are all efficient war butchers, they know how to save themselves and destroy their enemies, although sometimes this can also be their shortcomings, they are not so fanatical and brave, so that most of them cannot face the fear of death.

But the legions of the young centurions were young warriors, strong, ambitious and passionate, but lacking the skills and experience to fight. Sometimes blindly doing it will be disadvantageous.

And they haven't experienced real battles, they lack that familiarity. But the seasoned hunters are different, they are well-versed in the art of combat, from the posture of using swords and shields, to setting up camps and building roads and bridges. They all have hands-on experience, and they know what to do and what not to do.

And they have also seen the youth army, although most of the young people can forget about death, but their fighting skills are difficult to compliment.

But the adult Hun centurion broke the ribs of several young Huns with great difficulty in succession, but they continued to fight frantically, and at this moment, the adult centurion, Baramber, was a little afraid. He had made a name for himself since the time of the two Hun kings, and was an immaculate warrior with a perfect fighting will and experience.

Every inch of his muscles was filled with explosive power, not of a deformed kind, but flawless, and his every move was a model and model for the ancient soldiers.

Baramber sighed in his heart that the later foals were stronger, and it seemed that the old horses had declined after all.

But the sword in his hand was pierced into the chest of one of the young soldiers, and the young Hun was stabbed so hard that he felt as if he had been trampled on the chest by a wild horse.

It was estimated that a few ribs must have been broken, but the young man glared at Baramber viciously, and shouted in a voice of extreme disdain:

"We will win!"

After saying that, he swept the round shield towards Baramber at an extremely fast speed, Balambur was the elite of a hundred battles from Pannonia to Gaul, for this kind of little trick, he naturally saw it in his eyes, he dodged this fierce blow with a light flash. At this time, the young Hun showed countless flaws.

Baramber could kill him with a wooden sword, and Baramber had this confidence that no one would be able to resist his full blow. If the others dared to do this to Baramber, Baramber would have killed him, so that they would understand that the dignity of a warrior is not to be insulted at will.

Blanburg struck the young Hun in the lower abdomen with a blow from the side, and the young Hun who had been struck suddenly had a twisted face as if it had been swept by a hundred thousand volts of electricity. A mouthful of sour water almost spit out of his stomach, and the young man fell to the ground with a thud.

He groaned and crawled out of the warband. Baramber smiled confidently, after all, he was a veteran of a hundred battles, and he could easily treat these immature foals.

Baranberg's legion was like a mudslide in the mountains, crashing inexorably against the boulders on the mountainside, and the legion of the young centurions was the boulder.

The boulder was trembling, and the boulder was almost destroyed, washed away, and submerged.

But the boulder is still fighting to the death. A young Hun rushed into the battle of several adult Huns, and what awaited him was a thrust from all directions, but none of them were fatal, these adult Huns were not as reckless as the young Huns, and they were very careful.

"The Holy Lord is with me!"

This was the slogan of the young Huns' desperate charge, and sure enough, when the young centurion shouted, all the soldiers of the legion were like fiery horses, not as conservative as the one at the beginning, and they smashed their shields into each other in a rage, and slashed wildly with their swords.

This method of fighting, which had no regard for wounds and lives, felt a sincere fear, and Baramber thought of the night of the Battle of Charlon, where the whole barracks was filled with fear and fear, and the gloomy atmosphere was indescribable.

He only felt this way when facing the Visigothic ironclad cavalry, and Baranber nodded sincerely, and the aftermath was terrifying. Even if they don't have undergone rigorous training, in terms of combat morale and fighting will, they are qualified berserkers.

"Holy Lord!"

Baranber shouted, almost the same signal, and his legion lost its mind as if possessed by the devil.

"Hooray!"

His legionnaires shouted hooray.

The whole battlefield was like boiled noodles, mixed together, but the red and blue sides could still be seen, because they were both wearing different training clothes.