The restless gray tide stopped, and the people in gray-white leather armor raised their heads at the same time, and the man's gaze was magnified a thousand, ten thousand times. The condescending distinction is clearly Estheau, but the city wall does not establish a psychological advantage for him, but further magnifies the gloomy sense of oppression - under the city wall is the abyss of vision, no one can be condescending in front of the abyss, or condescending is always the abyss. Eshu clenched his longbow expressionlessly, the rough surface of his arm hot like never before. The piece of wood seemed to be about to burn, blazing in his palm.

Brochette threw himself at Ranmarok, shook his shoulders vigorously, and whispered his name, but Ranmarlock did not respond. He bit his purple-blue lip tightly, still trying to pull the iron bow under Brochette's pinch. He didn't realize that his movements were extremely deformed. Because of the excessive force, the bowstring shredded the gloves, and even the entire palm of the hand was cut bloody, and the wounds on the tips of the thumb and index finger were particularly deep, and even Sen Ran's bones could be seen. Brochette tried to break his face in front of him, but Ranmarlock began to struggle violently. Brochette raised his hand to grab the fist he had swung in his face, and slammed his backhand into Ranmaroke's helmet, knocking him around. At that moment, he did not look like a respected scholar at all, but showed the demeanor of some scoundrels in the market. Brochette's simple and crude but effective slap slapped Ranmaroch out of center, and he sat on the wall, looking up blankly at Brochette. Brochette took the opportunity to pinch his chin and leaned closer to study his pupils. The other garrisons were only stunned and unable to move, but Ranmarok's spirit was on the verge of collapse. Courage grew in his eyes, and then it was annihilated by great fear. His expression changed as a result, and he gritted his teeth and tensed the muscles in his cheeks; Sometimes the facial features are humbly constricted. Lambaloke's mouth was muttering something the whole time. Brochette pressed his chin tightly, carefully discerning the muffled syllables that were pouring out of his lips, and finally managed to make out one of the coherent and meaningful components: Urvet.

"Is that so, Ranmaroke?" Brochette let go of Ranmaroke and sighed softly as he looked around at the garrison that still stood like sculptures. "You prayed to Urvet for courage in the face of the Omenwolf Wolf, and he answered you and sheltered you. But the fighters who didn't have time to pray were not so lucky - their morale was completely crushed, and how could you, as a commander, be spared? He turned his head to look at Estheu, "Baranduk!" Pull your bow away! ”

"Okay." Eshu whispered, taking a deep breath and slowly unslapping Urvet's credentials above his head.

"Listen to me!" Brochette bit his index finger and smeared a staggered bow and arrow on Ranmarok's forehead with blood, and began to chant rapidly:

"Bless your people, O patron saint of hunters and archers, with confidence in the face of wolves, courage to fight, and perseverance to the death. The unfortunate, who have fallen into the quagmire of despair, pull them out; Those who gave their lives bravely, greeted them. Thy bow and thy arrows are in heaven, as thy messengers and thy witnesses are in the snow. He recited the prayer in a deep voice, "Baranduk, now loosen the strings!" ”

The taut bowstring was reset, the invisible ripples spread, and the garrison suddenly woke up. Their bow-raising arms were already sore and painful, and the dragon's roaring arrows smashed to the ground one after another. Brochette's fingers ran hard across Ranmaro's forehead, the pattern of bows and arrows glowing dark red, and disappeared on his forehead. Ranmaroke's body shook, and his eyes gradually regained their clarity. He looked at Brochette in front of him in a daze: "Courtyard...... Dean? His mouth grinned, and his voice revealed a suppressed cry, "The city, the city is broken, I can't stop him from ......"

"I don't have time to listen to your mother-in-law!" Brochette dragged him up from the ground, "Hurry up and organize a counterattack!" It was too late to retreat, so hold the gates and give Gig and Dahar as much time as they can. ”

"I'll do it." Estheu said, "Hurry up and leave. ”

"What nonsense are you talking about, Baranduk?" Brochette turned his head and shouted, "In the past, Samson had to face his back to the city gate to withstand thousands of troops, but now that there are no two planks blocking the door, you see who will bird you?" ”

Esher just pointed down the city.

The gray tide dispersed at some point, leaving a circular clearing in the outer urn city. The man walked with his back to the city gate to the center of the clearing. He had already split the gates of Boimbul, and could have driven in with the army of the Misty Mountains, drowning the city in a surging tide of ash, but he turned around at this point, and even with the ash tide showed chilling restraint - they even spontaneously walked out of the city to make room for that little space. The man looked at Eshu from afar, his palms spread out, pointing slightly down in front of him—a gesture of invitation.

"Are you crazy!" Brochette just glanced at it and hurriedly withdrew his gaze, "You can't take advantage of it in hand-to-hand combat!" Urwitt's evidence is unlikely to stand up to the re-forged wolf axe - hell, Agiaz can't meddle in a dispute between the gods, so who has the guts and ability? ”

"Wolf axe? Aziz? ”

"If we were both alive after this battle, I'd be happy to stuff your head with old legends—but not now." "I ask one last time, do you really want to do this?" ”

"I don't have a choice." "He didn't let me choose either. ”

"Okay, piggyback on these." Brochette ripped off Ranmaroke's quiver, picked up a few dragon roaring arrows from the surrounding area, and stuffed them into Essho's arms, "How much time can you buy?" ”

"I'm not sure, so you'd better hurry." Esher said. He tied his quiver around his waist and walked down the wall, through the split gate, and the gray tide spontaneously made way for him to make a way to the "arena". At the end of the road is a man with a giant axe. Eshua walked towards him step by step, and then he relaxed—he stepped into the abyss, and the difference in height between the two sides had been smoothed out. Brochette looked at the lonely figure in the crowd and felt an urge to stay and witness the battle, but reason stopped him. The dialogue between the wills of the gods does not allow mortals to prying eyes. "Ranmaroke, lead the team to retreat to the Inner Fort according to the emergency plan. The Black Spear Knights followed me back to the academy auditorium to garrison. ”

"What about him?"

"That's not something we can interfere with anymore." Brochette gave Escho one last look, "Pray, pray that the Grey Tide won't step into Boimbru until the two of them are decided." ”

Estheu finally walked into the clearing and stood face to face with the man. At this time, he already had a steaming sweat, so he simply tore off the single clothes on his body. The two men looked at each other about ten paces apart, bare-skinned in the wind. Snowflakes hit their bodies, melting, and then evaporating. Behind Aeshu, the passage of the gray tide slowly closed.

"The Wolf of Omens" Wolfberg. The man raised the tomahawk in his hand

"Child of Prophecy" Esher Baranduk. Esshu pulled the longbow in his hand.

The two let out a high-pitched roar and lunged at each other at the same time!