"Don't, don't kill us!" Some Hermes-Epitek screamed in horror. Others have collapsed to the ground, with a look of despair, and there is no hope of escape.

The only few women were close together, and among the dozens of Han people, they were still only in vain. Many people turned their eyes to these women, greedily **** the corners of their mouths.

"Han people, hand over your belongings!" The leader raised the knife in his hand, pointed the tip of the knife directly at the Han people in front of him, and said in stumbling Chinese.

Many people suddenly have a gleam in their eyes and see hope. "We pay, we pay." As he spoke, many Hermes-Epitek unwrapped the packages they were carrying on their backs and placed them in front of them.

The leader of the people glanced around with satisfaction, and saw a dense package, and nodded with satisfaction. Suddenly, his gaze froze, his brow furrowed, and the corners of his mouth that were raised with a little banter gradually fell.

Raising his hand, the tip of his knife moved over a person's head, and finally pointed at the middle-aged scribe who was standing still, and said angrily, "Hey, why don't you understand? Do you want to die? ”

The other Hermes-Epitek trembled at the voice, but quickly reacted and turned their attention to the middle-aged scribe. There are doubts, there are sympathies, and all kinds of eyes are intertwined.

"I don't have any money." The middle-aged scribe shrugged and replied with a bit of a bachelor's face. Remove the package from your back and lay it flat on the ground.

He rolled up his sleeves and bent down to unwrap it, revealing its contents, moving very slowly and without a hint of trembling. There were a few books, and a few loaves of bread, an old and white-washed garment that had been changed for washing, and nothing but that was not a single item in his package.

"I'm sorry, I didn't bring any money with me when I went out this time." The middle-aged scribe straightened up and smiled at the leader of the Diren.

"You ......" The head and neck of the man were angry, but he didn't know why, and the anger quickly subsided.

A brutal smile appeared on his face, and the tip of his knife went up, "Kill them!" ”

As soon as the voice fell, there was a burst of laughter, and the centaur thieves drew their knives one after another, and the war horses carried them, approaching the trembling Hanmin step by step. Looking at the expressions of these people again, they are clearly extremely familiar expressions, without a little pity, and they are even very much looking forward to the scene in front of them.

They must kill these Han people, whether they hand over their belongings or not, whether they are harmless or not, but they must die! Once the news leaks, then the Han government will inevitably encircle and suppress it, but this is not something they want to see. It was not until later that they began to enjoy, and enjoyed the process of watching their prey go from hope to despair, and it was easy to get the already morbid satisfaction.

"No, we've already given you everything, don't kill us." Some wept bitterly and pleaded incessantly.

More Hermes-Epitek sat down with despair on their faces, staring blankly ahead. Every time the horse's hooves were trampled on their hearts, their bodies trembled uncontrollably. All at once, it was extremely slow, but it brought extremely painful torment, and this feeling of imminent death even caused wet water stains to appear under the crotch of several people.

"Wait." Suddenly, a voice appeared, and it was the scribe who spoke. He had already packed up his package, retied the knot, and saddled it behind his back.

"Oh?" The leader of the Di people set his eyes on the middle-aged scribe, and after seeing his actions, he became even more curious. He had seen many Han people begging for mercy in front of him, and he had also seen many people who were impassioned and scolded in front of him, but he had never seen such a calm person, so he raised his hand.

"Wait."

The approaching centaur thieves stopped their horses and looked at their leader in confusion, not knowing why they had stopped. Suddenly, a figure flashed in front of them, and it turned out to be a young man who had seized the gap and ran out.

"Kill!" A centaur thief reacted, rode his horse up, and soon chased after him, and the long knife slashed down, and a dead human head flew up with a pillar of blood. The body that had lost its head ran a few steps forward before it fell heavily.

When many Hermes-Epitek saw this scene, the flame that ignited in their hearts quickly extinguished.

"What do you have to say?" The leader of the Di people rode forward and came to the middle-aged scribe and asked condescendingly.

The middle-aged scribe raised his head, looked at the head and neck of the man without fear, and said slowly, "You can't kill me." ”

"Why?" The leader of the people laughed, as if he had heard a funny joke. Now it seems that this middle-aged scribe is not much different from the others, maybe it is just his delusion, which makes his patience not very long, probably wear out with only one sentence.

"Don't you just want money? As Duan Cheng's nephew, how can I have no money? The scribe said calmly.

What the? The face of the leader of the people changed for a while, and his heart suddenly rose, and the palm of the long knife that was originally clenched quietly relaxed, and he hurriedly asked, "Dare to ask, but Duan Poqiang Duan Gong?" ”

The middle-aged scribe nodded, his face full of pride, and he asked rhetorically, "Otherwise?" ”

As soon as he shook his hand, there was a kind of nobility of a child of the family emanating from his body, looked at the leader of the Di people, and continued: "As long as you don't kill me, there will naturally be someone in my family to redeem it!" ”

"It turned out to be Duan Gong's nephew!" The leader of the Di people muttered to himself, and then looked at the middle-aged scribe, but he couldn't see anything. On the contrary, he felt that this was exactly the case, this scribe's performance all along did not seem to be fake, and probably only Duan Poqiang's sons and nephews could have such a demeanor.

He turned his head and exchanged words with the other horse thieves before turning his head again.

"Since you are Duan Gong's nephew, then we will not detain you. As long as you are in league with us and don't reveal what is going on here, we can let you go back!" ”

"Okay." The middle-aged scribe agreed, and replied in Chinese, "Since you let me go back, then I also promised you that I would give you gold and silver later." ”

As they spoke, the Han people shouted to the middle-aged scribe as if they had seen a savior, "Help us, save us." ”

The middle-aged scribe didn't seem to hear it at all, the expression on his face was still the same, but his heart was extremely unbearable. He can't save it, there's no way, even if his identity is real, he can't save it.

How to save? The thoughts in his mind flipped quickly, and the middle-aged scribe let out a sigh of relief, if there was a way, he would have thought of it before, let alone now. It's just that there is still unwillingness, so he continues to insist on such a stupid move in his opinion.

"Good!" The leader of the people nodded heavily, turned to the rest of the horse thieves and ordered, "Kill them!" ”

As soon as he finished speaking, blood suddenly splattered from his neck, and a feather arrow pierced his neck, and most of the shafts of the arrows sank into his neck. The tail feathers of the feathered arrows trembled, trembling and trembling, and the feathers were still fluttering and shaking with bright red blood.

(End of chapter)

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