Eighty miles north of Poynbru, the Misty Mountains, Mount Shigvonov.

The pitch-black trunks of the trees poked straight out of the snow, like black tombstones. Men wrapped in white wolf skins and bare-armed, sat cross-legged under the trees, wiping their weapons with leather, their arms exposed to the cold with rocky lines. Their gaze was like the snow beneath them, thick and cold. An old man in a black robe walked slowly past them, standing behind an extremely burly man, his voice hoarse as that of a crow: "It is worthy of being the elite escort of the Divine Envoy, and they are all warriors who are one in a hundred. Even compared to the apologetic black knights of my Holy Sect, they are not much more reckless. ”

"Polite words will be waived." The man said coldly, "What do you want to do with my army of 50,000 to let you break into pieces, stand still in the holy mountain, and scatter a large number of patrols?" ”

"Just now," said Meldre, "the Duke of Aldemar of Poimbre has led his troops out of the city. He held out his hand and pointed in the direction of Boimburu. The hands under the black robe were as thin as a dead branch, clearly outlining the shape of the bones, "The news of the reappearance of Venerable Vejovis's messenger must have spread throughout the northern realm like a wind. The nobles of Ravenston must have gathered in Ryan at this time to discuss what to do—"

"How to hunt me, huh?" The man took over lightly, "There is no absolute position between the hunter and the prey. People in the north are saying that wolf hunting season has arrived, and I personally like this statement. Spring really needs a hearty hunt to stretch the frozen bones. He opened his arms against the razor-sharp wind, and his whole body seemed to be a bow stretched to the limit, and the joints of his whole body rattled, like the gears of an instrument began to bite and rotate. While hunting, be prepared to be hunted! ”

"And I will present the hunting weapon to the Lord of God." Meldrey whispered. He clapped his hands, and the two black knights stepped forward carrying a mahogany box more than half a person high. "Please also ask the gods to make the Lord personally unseal it."

The man glanced at Meldere, "I'm still hard to believe that a cissy man could forge a tomahawk that satissies me." ”

"God will please your lordship." Meldre's chapped lips curled in a shriveled arc, "When have I ever let the Divine Envoy down since the beginning of the collaboration?" ”

"That's because you haven't gotten what you want." The man said in a low voice, "Isn't this your usual trick?" First promise a magnificent blueprint, and then squeeze the value of people, from the blood and bones to the soul to devour it all. Meldere, I'm curious, what do you want from us? ”

"The curiosity of the gods is too heavy." Meldrei dusted the snowflakes off his shoulders, not paying any attention to the sharp gaze of the man in front of him, "I am just a humble servant of the Goddess, doing my best to carry out the Goddess's will. The goddess wants sacrifices, and the battlefield is the most perfect altar. ”

"Your tone reminds me of the old shamans of the Blackstone tribe, who like to talk nonsense to cover up your humble desires." The man snorted coldly and opened the heavy lid with one hand. The scorching heat seeped through the cracks, as if countless red-hot charcoal had accumulated inside. But the man didn't realize it, and he slowly lifted the lid of the box, exposing his upper body to the pouring heat. "Oh?" The cold light illuminated the man's raised eyebrows, and he couldn't help but let out a heartfelt admiration.

A huge tomahawk lay quietly in the dark black satin, quaint, heavy, and rough. It was the source of the unstoppable heat, and the forger seemed to have forged it along with the roaring furnace, which is why it emitted such a rebellious heat. The heat distorted the air around it, making it look like it was sinking in a pool of clear water. The handle of an adult's arm is gracefully curved, with two steel gauntlets in the middle. The blade of the axe is a trapezoidal shape that is extremely ostentatious. There is no doubt that this is a berserk weapon, born to slash with wide openings!

The man stretched out his hand and naturally grasped the tomahawk. His broad palm was just big enough to grasp the handle of an axe in one hand. The moment his hand touched the handle of the axe, the high temperature that could almost burn people disappeared in an instant, and only the cool of metal submission remained in the palm of his hand. With one hand, the man swung his tomahawk and split the mahogany box in two, as easily as if he had cut a piece of brown paper. "Yes, I'm happy – no, very satisfied. It must feel very good to split the bones of a Ravenstonian. I take back what I said earlier, that sissy is indeed the best blacksmith in Pander. The man's fingers rubbed the blade of the axe with cherishment, as if they were rubbing the carcass of a lover.

"You said before that Alderma had left Poimbro?" The man carried the tomahawk behind his back and looked into the distance, "Then he should be an excellent hunting target." ”

"No, Lord God." Behind him was Meldre's calm, but forceful voice, "Now is not the time. The command of the fifty thousand Misty Mountain warriors, including the Divine Envoy and your elite guards, remains with me. The Duke of Aldemar has fought against the Misty Mountain tribes for many years, and he has a great record of fighting and is the best at defense. Every year, Livingston had to fight against the raiding tide of the Misty Mountains, and it was the Duke of Poimbru who took the lead, and fought with the raiding army with a weak force until it was dragged down, and then Duke Alexis was defeated in one fell swoop. Very orthodox, very tacit shield spear tactics. Even if we shattered this shield with all our might, what would we do against the crazy spear behind the shield? ”

"You think I'll be like those headless flies?" The man stared at Meldere, a dangerous wolf-like light erupting from the depths of his eyes.

"Yes. The power of the gods is unparalleled, and he is the only strong man to see in his old life. But the tactical mind is still stuck at the most basic level of fighting, killing, killing. "This is also the reason why I have sought the cooperation of His Holiness Vijovis, and why His Holiness will hand over the command to me." But I promise that I will eventually create a fair stage for the Divine Envoys, a stage where you can converse head-on with the entire North. ”

After a long silence, the man turned and walked past Meldere, sat down against a tree, and closed his eyes. "The supplies in the Holy Mountain will not last long, as my patience does."

"Don't worry, Lord God, I vouch with my life that I won't wait too long." Meldrey whispered.