The ballista roared dullly, and the lever spun at high speed to reset, pouring all the accumulated torque into the heavy bolts on the bowstring in an instant. A gloomy thunderbolt broke free from its restraints, bringing up a cloud of smoke and dust behind it, roaring and pounced on Esso.

So fast!

This was the first thought that came to Estheu's mind. He even thought it was a black key shot out by a nun from Hell, but the momentum was still too loud. There was no time to judge the trajectory, and in the midst of the fierce wind, the crossbow arrows were already approaching with the sound of the bowstring, and Esher could even clearly distinguish every dangerous edge and corner on the triangular arrow cluster. This time the wind is no longer a warning signal, but a harbinger of death! The Sniper perfectly measured the strength of Burning No's feet, and he just smashed the wooden hammer, and then Esher held his chest out and met him in the path of the crossbow's flight. Dodging was already a luxury, and the exaggerated relative speed between the Burning Wild and the crossbow obliterated any possibility of Essho tossing and turning.

Can only be hardwired!

The weight of the wolf axe was a burden at this life-and-death moment, and the only one who had time to move, and the closest to the crossbow, was Eshu's left hand. Without delay, Eshua raised his hand, and his slightly curved five fingers quickly took place and clasped around the crossbow. However, the swiftness and momentum of the crossbow far exceeded Estheau's expectations, and the palm of his left hand was torn apart by the fierce friction with the shaft of the arrow, and then from the tiger's mouth, the flippers between each finger began to crack, heal, and then burst again. The blood was violently poured against each other at both ends into tiny columns of blood, splashing wantonly.

Esshu finally didn't let the crossbow bolt break free from his control, but he himself was not comfortable, and the huge force of the collision directly threw him off the back of the burning horse, and he fell heavily on the barren grass, and even rolled a few times to completely cancel out the momentum attached to the crossbow arrow. However, Burning Wild did not notice that his rider had broken away, or deliberately did not notice it, and just rushed forward with one mind. In a moment, the distance was narrowed.

Fortunately, at this time, half of the wild horses in the rear had also arrived, and Eixiu got up, jumped on a stallion at the right time, and let out a gloomy whistle towards the burning field. Burning Ye's muscular body stiffened, and he reluctantly turned his head, slowing down, waiting for Eshu to jump back on his back.

Eishu returned to the back of the burning field, looked sideways at the ballista, and found that the middle-aged man had no intention of firing again, and did not look at Eshu, but just stood beside the ballista and groaned. Eshua suddenly realized that he was still clutching the crossbow in his left hand, and the blood stains were like solidified lava, firmly gluing the shaft of the arrow to his fingers. His left arm hung limply at his side, and the pain rose and fell one after another, and it seemed that he could not move for a short time.

What is the origin of these ambushers? Ai Xiu raised his wolf axe and hesitated for a moment, but after all, he did not cut off the ends of the crossbow arrow. This is the only trophy he "captured" from this thrilling interception, and it is also an opportunity to trace the roots. Not only did this group of mercenaries make a strict tactical arrangement against him, but they could even set up powerful siege weapons such as ballistas. The sheer size of the forces behind it is unimaginable. Now that he was free from the entanglement of the ambush soldiers, he began to feel a dark cloud of ill intentions hovering overhead.

……

"You can only fire once...... The middle-aged man stood beside the ballista, shook his head helplessly, he tapped the wooden hammer in his hand, and the ballista immediately fell apart, and the complex and sophisticated mechanism seemed to have been swept away by violence, seriously distorted and deformed. The middle-aged man crouched down and carefully rummaged through the wreckage to find a complete part that had survived, but eventually stood up disappointed. "It's still a bit difficult to scale up the technology of the Metenheim crossbow to the ballista in equal proportions. The ballista that I had managed to save was scrapped. But—" he watched as Eshu galloped away, "at least it can threaten this group, that is, the crossbow is too poor, if it's the same size 'Dragon Roar'—" He turned and calmly faced the Cato hussars approaching here, "You've probably pinned the head of the new Baron of the North to your belt by now, and it's not bad to kick the ball or split it like the pirates on the West Coast." ”

"You didn't stop him." The lead rider said gloomily.

"Aren't you too?" The middle-aged man didn't care, "If you follow more closely, no matter how cautious he is, it will be difficult for him to walk away like this." You were even thirty paces away when I shot him off his horse. Your own descendants have suffered no losses, but I have lost half of my squad. His tone suddenly sharpened, "If your master's control over the northern steppes is really as strong as he thinks he is, Baranduk will not be able to walk into my ambush circle unharmed—not even out of the Gatu steppes." Perhaps your master is still one of the great warlords in the Gato steppes, but how long can this last? The mysterious financier is now in a hot fight with Zakar. ”

"What do you want to say?"

"Learn to admit your failures. If you can't kill it this time, you can't kill it next time? If you have a son, why don't you have another one? The dignified warlord, can he only find a mare to vent? If he still can't manage his emotions and reason, I suggest you find an opportunity to be him and replace him. Maybe the mysterious gold lord will return to the northern grasslands. Of course, if you need manpower, you can hire me and my men to make sure that the hands and feet are clean. The man ignored the rider's increasingly eerie gaze, "If it's all right, go back." The scouts at Fort Aywasod should have noticed the movement here, I don't want to clash with Ravenston's regular army just yet, so I might help them beat you up when the time comes, don't make the scene too embarrassing. Oh," the man laughed, glancing at the Gato hussar behind the rider, "I don't think anyone else here understands the lingua franca, right?" ”

"Mind your own business." The rider stiffly put down a word, turned his horse's head, and led the hussars away. The middle-aged man put away the false smile on his face and watched indifferently as the chaotic smoke raised by the horse's hooves faded away.

"The Cato people are no better than the barbarians in the Misty Mountains. It's nothing more than being able to ride a horse and shoot arrows. He took a sip and made a gesture, and immediately several mercenaries led a war horse forward, handed the reins to the man, and began to clean up the wreckage of the ballista, while another mercenary took out a blank roll of parchment and quill, and stood respectfully beside the man.

The man gently patted the horse's back, affectionately stroked its mane, and cleared his throat at the same time: "Test Model 1 usage record: The results are not good, but the potential is promising. There is still room for improvement in the technology modeled after Metenheim. The next thing that should be considered is to reduce the burden on the overall structure of the ballista by the supercharger, or to use a more robust material for the parts. Did you write it down? ”

The mercenary nodded, waited for the ink to dry on the parchment, and carefully rolled it up and put it away. The man nodded in satisfaction, turned on his horse, and galloped away in the direction of the inland sea. "Esher Baranduk! The next time we meet, your life, your horse, and your vain title will be mine! ”