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The legends of giants, elves and heroes have been passed down from generation to generation on the frozen continent covered in darkness and cold, and the surrounding mountains and grasslands are dotted with interconnected but independent horse farms, and unlike the increasingly modern farms of the Americas, it still maintains a strong traditional atmosphere, with wooden fences made of wood, huts with red roofs and white walls, chimneys and fireplaces made of masonry, antlers and shotguns hanging on the walls like specimens of deer heads, and even a small television in the hall except for the telephone. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

Rather than being treated like video games or computers, children sit at the foot of their tables and listen to their parents sing quaint songs about grazing and hunting, or read books around the fireplace and listen to stories from the past.

An old man in a dark brown jacket leaned back in a rocking chair, his hair and beard had long since turned gray, this once bear-like body had long lost its former vitality, a little blonde girl about five or six years old squatted on the ground, threw a piece of firewood into the fireplace in front of him, his face was red with the orange fire that danced in the crackling sound, and a pair of dark eyes stared at his grandfather's beard, like a little cat staring at a fish tank.

"Alright, alright, little Ciel, you can spare Grandpa's beard."

The old man felt a headache when he saw this look, and even seemed to be able to feel the tingling sensation coming from his jaw, and hurriedly hugged little Hill on his knees, picked up the book from the coffee table on the side, hugged him and slowly opened it in front of him.

Like the children of her age, little Hill was clearly fond of listening to her grandfather's stories, and she had always been fascinated by the old legends, and she only giggled a few times before quieting down when she saw him ready to start telling stories............

"Grandpa, grandpa continued, ah, what happened to Hewal after he pulled out the magic sword......

At the same time as the little girl waved her pink and tender little fist, on another battlefield, Matthew and Luke, two saints, also appeared beside John, and the faint light emanating from the gospel scroll in their hands seemed to lead to a world, and the crusaders continued to rush towards the dilapidated town in front of them.

The town's dilapidated walls had long since been trampled into ruins, broken spears, broadswords, and broken pieces of armor were completely mixed with rubble, the scent of dirt and grass was completely covered by the pungent blood, and the dark red scars were so dazzling against the snow, and the fierce aura that accompanied the shouts and washed away, accompanied by the dust and magic turbulence, covered the originally blue sky, as if a blizzard was about to fall at any moment.

Like the other Norse Heroes, the warriors in the town wielding the crimson greatsword were more than a head taller than the crusaders around them, but their slightly slender stature was somewhat different from their exaggerated companions, neither her bronzed skin, horned leather helmet, nor her golden hair fluttering in the wind could hide her beautiful features, this Heroic Spirit was the owner of the magic sword Tyredge, the most powerful Viking warrior of all.

Contrary to rumors, the hilt of the magic sword made of gold and the gems inlaid on the body of the sword are gone, leaving only the dark red double-edged sword, the curse inscription that symbolizes the heir, decay and infighting has been replaced by the ottastafur rune, symbolizing the terrifying power to make it sharper, strictly speaking, this is not the magic sword tilfeng created by Duvarin and Durin, but the sword of Heval, which belongs only to this Viking female warrior, after losing its indestructible characteristics, On the contrary, the sharpness of itself as a weapon was brought into play more purely with the heroic spirit of war.

Neither the giant tower shield nor the thick full-body armor could stop the dark red storm, and wherever the blade went, the chains of the chain hammer, the hilt of the spear and the narrow cross sword were directly cut off, and the divine power from blessings and blessings was blown away like smoke in the face of the wind.

However, no matter how much the heroic spirit occupied the battlefield and the infinite number of soldiers showed no sign of diminishing, the saints still stood there chanting God's hymns, and the gospel continued to spread in all directions with pure white light.

"In the future, I will definitely become a great hero like Hevaler, and I will be blessed by the Horse of Light, Skifaxi......"

In the wooden house in Northern Iceland, little Hill urged dissatisfiedly, and a pair of small hands touched the old man's gray beard again. The approaching claws made the old man tremble involuntarily, and quickly pressed down Little Lori's pink fist and said:

"Great hero, that is not a word that can be easily attained, has nothing to do with those qualities that are praised by people, whether it is integrity, humility or greed, it is not a sign that is set up because of the need for any interests or values, but in turn conquers that era with its own extraordinary spirit, leaving its own mark on the long river of time......"

The old man lay on the wooden chair and said with emotion, as if he recalled the past years, but there was a little dazed in his eyes, no matter how much the little granddaughter in his arms made a fuss, he didn't continue to speak, the man who was talking and laughing around the table stood up, turned his head and said: "Hahaha, okay, little Hill, don't pester your grandfather like this, if you want to be a good rider, it's not enough to rely on blessings, choose a good horse and technical training is the most important thing, start to follow your mother to the ranch tomorrow." ”

"Really? Go to the ranch and choose a foal of my own! ”

The little girl jumped off her grandfather's lap excitedly, jumped up and grabbed the man's pants and shook excitedly, the man squatted down, rubbed her soft blonde hair and said helplessly: "This is not good, wait until you understand what a real rider is......"

The unrelenting whining of the little girl, the laughter of the man and the old man, and the melodious singing that accompanied the flute and trumpet, slowly spread out of the cabin, but the stories of the old heroes were hardly told.

In the town square, the goose feathers and snow that kept falling from the sky had completely covered the sculpture in the center, turning it into a white world, but when the warm spring breeze blew away the winter cold, and the snow and ice dissipated and faded, the statue of the hero riding a war horse turned into a statue of the Virgin, and the people who came and went did not show the slightest surprise, as if they were accustomed to it.

In the battlefield, the magic power emanating from the surroundings of the Heroic Spirit was constantly weakened like a flat tire, and the magic sword that could directly tear apart a phalanx with a single sword, on the other hand, the aura of the soldiers who were originally only surrounded by a faint wave of holy power became more and more powerful, and the white light seemed to be connected to each other as a whole.

From the hinterland between the Langjökull and Hofs glaciers, these two ice-covered shield volcanoes are deserted and remote, but they have never been short of tourists, thanks in large part to an ancient trail to Vasdal, where bad weather and harsh conditions do not hinder travelers from tracing the ancient hero's trail, except when the sand and gravel are covered by soft lawns, and the biting cold wind is replaced by a warm spring breeze. Can this still be considered an ancient hero's road?

The immortal spirit will only gradually dissipate with oblivion, even if all the surging magic power around the body is dispersed, even if the red light of the magic sword Til Feng flickered like flames, the dance steps composed of battle intent and blood did not have any intention of stopping, let the armor and weapons of the soldiers under the pure white shroud become more and more gorgeous, and the heavenly aura that resonated strongly around them became more and more powerful, and the heroic spirit still slashed it through the gap between the armor with the most simple slash.................. (My novel "Infinite Absolute Madness" will have more fresh content on the official WeChat platform, and there will also be a 100% lottery gift for everyone!) Open WeChat now, click on the "+" sign in the upper right corner to "add friends", search for the official account "qdread" and follow, hurry up! )