The sky was brighter, and on the river dozens of meters away, the stone arch bridge vaguely revealed its figure. Looking through the gap in the grass, you can vaguely see a row of figures walking across the bridge. Judging by their unique walking posture and the silhouette of their broken bodies, this is a group of undead soldiers.

Diego was hunched tightly on the plank, covered in a lizardskin cloak, and from a distance he looked as inconspicuous as a pile of rotten grass. On the other side of the boat, the minotaur that had morphed into a ghost wolf was almost translucent, and Diego felt his gaze penetrate his body and see the side of the ship on the other side. As for Masrae, Diego can't see him at all, it's a racial talent of the Night Elves, who can always hide themselves into the shadows in times of crisis to reduce the chances of their enemies discovering them.

The patrol did not go very fast, looking around as they went, and one of them stopped when he reached the middle of the bridge and looked in the direction of the riverbank.

Diego held his breath and didn't dare to move. Although he knew that even if he breathed, the Scourge soldiers on the bridge would not be able to hear it from such a distance, but he couldn't help but want to do it.

He was sure that the Scourge soldiers would not be able to see them, and the only thing to worry about was the long trail left by the boat as it crossed the grass and water.

The guy who had stopped made his way to the river, and finally turned his face in the direction of the boat. Diego quickly narrowed his eyes, lest the reflection of his eyeballs attract his attention. The guy probably didn't see anyone for a long time, but he still didn't seem to be at ease, so he leaned out from the bridge to take a closer look.

But at this moment, there were a few impatient screams in the distance, and the guy retracted his body with some reluctance, turned and rushed in the direction of his teammates.

The crisis finally passed, but Diego still crawled on the board. Within minutes, the team of undead Scourge returned from a distance and walked over the bridge.

After waiting for a while, when all the noise had ceased, Diego breathed a sigh of relief, then lifted his cloak and threw himself at the bow of the boat.

"Brian, are you okay?" He asked eagerly.

But no one answered him, and he saw that the branch in the bow of the ship had been pulled and bent into a bow, and the end had long since sunk under the water!

Diego immediately understood what was happening - the dwarf was swallowed up in the mud, and before that, like a solid rock, he did not allow himself to make any sound. Diegorby knew to everyone what the dwarves were doing this for.

"Come and help!" He shouted with tears in his voice. He stretched out his hand and tossed wildly in the water, looking for signs of the dwarf, completely forgetting that he should follow the branch. Fortunately, he soon came to his senses.

"I found him!" Seconds later, Diego felt the dwarf's arm, but the slippery mud made it impossible for him to grasp it. He leaned down and ran down the dwarf's arm, his face almost touching the water.

Diego eventually reached for the dwarf's helmet, grabbing it and wrapping it around his wrist for a few turns.

"Hold my waist and pull back!" He whispered.

The Minotaur had already rushed over at the moment, and he wrapped his muscular arms around the hunter's waist and began to push back, while the druid carried the Minotaur's shoulders in the same position.

With a low trumpet, the muddy dwarf was pulled out of the mud and dragged to the boat. The twig wrapped around the dwarf's wrist snapped with a soft click.

The boat shook violently, and out of inertia, the three of Diego fell on their backs and fell into the cabin. But they didn't bother with this, and immediately turned over and crawled towards the dwarf.

Brian's face was pale, his teeth were clenched, and he didn't seem to have any breath, and his thick beard was soaked, sticking to his chest one by one.

"Hey, man, wake up! Wake up! Diego slapped the dwarf's cheek in panic and whispered. He was completely panicked, and while the Light could heal injuries, Diego didn't know how to use it to save the drowning man, and after all, he was a beginner in how to use the Light.

Just then, he heard the minotaur's deep voice behind him.

"Diego, if you don't want him dead, get out of the way."

Diego jerked his head back and saw Dezko looking at him gently, his eyes full of composure and composure. As if infected by his composure, Diego also felt his irritable heart gradually quiet down, and he nodded and let Dezko go.

Dezko crouched down in the bow of the boat, untied the harness of his helmet that bound the dwarf's chin, and poked the side of his neck—not too late, at least he could feel the dwarf's pulse. He landed the dwarf face down on the side of the boat and squeezed him hard behind his back.

The next moment, as if brought back to life, the dwarf vomited violently. Large puffs of sewage squirted out of his throat, splashing on the water.

"It's not just the Light, the Elemental Power, or the Force of Nature that can save lives, sometimes a few simple tricks can save people in danger." Dezko smiled at Diego and whispered.

Shamans' esteemed status among the Minotaur tribe is not simply earned by heroic fighting - except for sworn enemies like centaurs, gentle minotaurs rarely fight people without fighting to the death - more often than not, saving the wounded and healing people is the reason why they earn respect, and shamans do all this not only by the power of the elements, but also by special skills and herbs. In this regard, shamans and witch doctors share a lot of similarities.

It took five minutes for the dwarf to vomit all the water in his stomach, and he rolled down the side of the ship to the bilge like a cabbage worm, gasping violently on his back to the sky.

"To celebrate that I'm alive, I have to take a few sips!" He muttered to himself, and as he fumbled around his waist to pull out a flat-iron flask, unscrewed the lid and brought it to his mouth, and gulped it down.

Dezko didn't stop him either, for drenched dwarves, dwarven liquor warmed him and kept him cold. It is said that to the brass-bearded dwarves who grew up in the snow and ice of Danmorrow, a bottle of liquor is better than a thick fur coat.

The liquor in his stomach not only warmed Brian's body, but also expelled the shadow in his heart, and the dwarf's Adam's apple kept sliding up and down until he drank the entire bottle.

He tossed the flask, belched comfortably, and grabbed Dezko's arm.

"I swear that if I take another boat, I'll let the fire burn all my beard!"