On the brutal battlefield, the only main theme is slaughter.

The sounds of fighting, shouting, and wailing that filled the area not long ago have finally disappeared, but the silence at this time seems even more hideous.

Three hundred yards, a long corridor paved with wolf cavalry and the corpses of giant wolves, resting forever on this land under the gaze of the statue of the Holy Father.

The Bloodhoof warriors finally stopped, still cold and silent.

Beneath the cold armor, there was only the sound of their faint gasps, not from exertion, but from the longing to see more blood.

The closest to them was another battle phalanx of five hundred Pyg warriors, less than thirty yards away.

But the Bloodhoof warriors did not act rashly, they suppressed the urge to thirst for blood in their hearts, because their chieftain was behind them, testing the results of their training, and they did not want to disappoint their chief.

The Pyg warriors were glad that Mu Shuai had not ordered them to stop the invincible barbarian warriors, and they could even hear the wheezing of the barbarian warriors.

They feared, feared that these barbarian warriors, who had managed to stop, would charge again, and that the butcher's knife would swing at their heads, which were no harder than the wolf cavalry.

The Bloodhoof Warriors did not continue to advance, because their strategic purpose had been achieved, a full three hundred yards, even if the enemy was less than thirty yards away from them, they would not continue to charge in a chaotic manner as they had been years ago, because they were Bloodhoof Warriors, the elite warriors of the First Tribe of the Great Wasteland who had been indoctrinated every day for months, and they were burdened with the glory of Bloodhoof on any battlefield.

"The time is just right!" Cana whistled as she looked at the freshly assembled catapult not far away.

Samson and Cleos looked at each other, and their thick arms struck the catapult's hammer.

The cacophony of objects rubbing against the air once again shattered the rare tranquility of the battlefield.

The next moment, like a torrential rain, the boulder flew out from under the statue of the Holy Father with a graceful arc, over the city walls, over the corpses of the wolf cavalry, over the barbarian warriors, and smashed on the bodies of the Pig warriors who were still rejoicing in the last second.

The boulder, which weighs half a ton, is like a locust crossing the border, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to escape.

Fifteen catapults, fifteen giants operating, fifteen dwarves tuning angles.

The new generation of catapults designed by the little old man Fan Di can be said to have the advantages of all siege equipment, fast, efficient, long-range, large and easy to assemble.

Catapults, which use the principle of levers to throw stone projectiles, appeared as early as the first civilization on the continent of San Cassis, and its appearance is the progress of technology and the need of war.

However, as the mages were inferior to the battlefield, catapults were gradually eliminated, and with the exception of some important fortresses of the Terrans, the major legions paid little attention to this cumbersome giant war machine.

The structure of the projection vehicle is very simple, a huge lever, with a holster or wooden frame behind it to load stones, and dozens of ropes are tied to the tail, and dozens of fighters pull at the same time, and use the principle of the lever to throw the stones.

Looking at the catapults of the major legions in the San Cassis continent today, they have more or less some shortcomings, such as difficult to carry, too slow to reload, unreliable hammers, too much manpower, etc., and most of them are used for defensive warfare, and they have to be fixed within the city walls.

Another major disadvantage of the old catapult is that the projection speed is too slow.

But under the operation of the Plains Giant, the little old man Fan Di made up for this biggest shortcoming.

The boulders, which weighed half a ton, were all packed in semi-sealed wooden baskets, and a giant could hold four or five wooden frames in his arms.

All they had to do was pull the top of the catapult with their hands, put the basket full of boulders on it, press it to the lowest point and let go.

In addition to the drawings contributed by Allen, the little old man Fan Di is in charge of the general design, and the contribution of the horned wing python is also undeniable, after all, this guy always sheds his skin, and he has to turn into a fighting posture when Big Babylon is pinching his neck.

Eren once gave the highest instructions to the giants in the Bloodhoof tribe, that is, the giants could not serve as a decoration team and do coolies, as long as they were skilled in assembling catapults and could reload and fire more than three times in five seconds, then the food in the camp would be enough.

In order to fill their bellies and avoid having to work as coolies, the giants of the plains, under the leadership of Samson and Cleios, practiced their skills of throwing stones and loading.

And after nearly a month of practice, these giants finally shined in this battle against Beamon.

Fifteen catapults, at least thirty-five to forty boulders per second, after the dwarves adjust the angle, they only need to keep picking up the boulders, putting the boulders, pulling the top of the catapult, pressing to the lowest before releasing it.

One second, the Pigs were rejoicing, and the next, their bodies were shattered.

The dwarves who adjust the angle only need to take the eagle-eye tube to find the target, find the place where the Beamon warriors are gathered, and then adjust the angle to give the order.

Allen remembers that Stalin said that artillery is the god of war.

He couldn't remember the recipe for gunpowder, but he knew that the catapult was definitely the Sancasses version of the god of war.

It's just that because of the appearance of magicians, this ancient tool is gradually buried.

So he whimsically divided the giants of the plains into catapult troops, and made a big splash in the maiden battle.

With the cooperation of giants and dwarves, the catapult once again rejuvenated its second spring, living up to the title of battlefield reaper.

Cana glanced at Alan with some admiration, it was this unobtrusive chief who had arbitrarily let these plain giants use catapults with the dwarves, instead of involving the giants in regular training.

You must know that the body of a giant, once you are put into battle for the first time, it will definitely deal a fatal blow to the morale of the opponent.

But now, Allen's decision is right, a group of giants gather to beat this group of Beamon warriors to the death, and it may not be as lethal as a catapult.

Dense boulders, no matter where they hit, there is a bloody rain.

The Beamon warriors finally began to retreat, and the Pyg warriors turned around and ran like frightened birds.

The wolf cavalry kept urging the giant wolf under his crotch, trying to escape from the range of this boulder rainstorm.

The shamans who had just walked out of the camp had not yet taken out their singing power amplification instruments, and they were directly carried by the bear officer on their shoulders and ran.

Mourinho finally stopped his breezy expression, frowned and gave a new order again: "Tell the Harpy to fly high and throw oil barrels and burn those catapults." ”

Seeing the other camp flying out of a hawk holding a barrel of fire, Alan didn't care at all.

He knew what Mourinho was having, and this was how the Temple Paladins of the North Diocese hung up, and were smashed into humanoid candles by these harpies holding barrels of fire oil and then beheaded.

It has to be said that the Harpies are a very special race in the Beamon Empire, this kind of creature with the head of an elf female, but with a huge vulture wing claw, is not a Beamon orc, their hair is a bundle of black feathers, and their faces have cold eyes.

The Harpy bloodline can be traced back to the female elves of ancient times, who were turned into ugly bird-like creatures due to an irrevocable curse cast by the Elven Queen for their betrayal of the Night Elf Queen.

Even in the country of the Bimon Orcs, the Harpies are a race that everyone sees evil.

However, after Mourinho rose to prominence in the army, he brought all these unpopular races under his command, and even made the Harpies a vassal race of the Swan clan against public opinion.

Mourinho has given the Hippogriffs a safe living environment, dignity and a stage to prove their worth.

Time is the best witness, and Mourinho has proved to be very wise in his decision.

The shuttle and the harpy on the battlefield can be heralds, air scouts, or surprise troops, their roles are diverse, and their ability to move quickly and maneuver is very powerful.

Now the Harpy tribe has long become the most coveted warrior of the major legions of Beamon, but it is a pity that the Harpy is only loyal to his own suzerain, that is, the Swan Clan, the patriarch of the Swan Clan, Mourinho.

The harpy held barrels of oil in his arms, and began to rise higher and higher until they turned into black dots.

Because these harpies have the blood of the ancient elves, although they have not inherited the arrows of the elven clan, they are extremely sensitive to aiming and wind speed and direction.

Orpheus ignored everyone's obstruction, ran to Allen's side, and said very anxiously: "Let the soldiers find cover, quickly." ”

Not long ago, Orpheus saw with his own eyes that those loyal temple paladins were smashed on their bodies by barrels of fire oil that fell from the sky, and in the face of the ruthless devouring of the flames, those fighting skills that had been practiced hard in the past, the fighting spirit of hard cultivation day and night, and the endless battle array, could not play the slightest role, and could only watch their skin be burned by the flames, fall off, and finally become a charred corpse.

Eren ignored him.

Play with fire? Lao Tzu is an expert, Lao Tzu does not take burning. It's good to smash you with a bottle, and you want to hit me with a fire oil barrel.

Alan hooked his finger at little Zach, who grinned and called his little friend.

The whistling Hippogriff, hovering above the Holy Light Castle, began to ignite the fire, preparing to drop the oil barrel in his arms from the sky.

A group of half-sized Bloodhoof Tribe barbarian children, led by little Zach, took down the longbow from their backs with a grin.

Orpheus's eyes straightened, because he saw that these half-grown children actually 。。。。。 actually began to absorb the magic elements in the space, and then... The elements are then transferred to the arrows.

Little Zack, who was in the stage of changing his voice, aimed at a harpy in the air, and shouted: "Brothers, shoot these birdmen for me!" ”