There are less than two minutes left.

The snow was still falling, and the footsteps of the Noxians quietly broke through the last hundred and fifty yards in the boundless rain of arrows, and the cruel faces of the wounded, clutched, lame men charging frantically were clearly visible.

And the retreat of the Demacians was like a turtle crawling.

At this rate, it may not take more than two minutes, and I still underestimate the cruelty and decisiveness of the Noxians.

Ash took a deep breath, and the hand that had been placed on the quiver drew the arrow again quickly and firmly the next moment.

Her hand did not tremble in the slightest from any fear or overly frequent shooting, and she steadily placed the arrow full of icy power on the bowstring, and pulled the string steadily.

Aim, shoot.

"Hum—"

"Plop-" The Noxians who were charging forward fell in response.

Ash drew the arrow again, shooting.

Draw arrows, shoot.

Draw an arrow......

Ash's pupils constricted instantly, and her hand froze on the quiver at that moment, because the touch of her hand told her that there were less than thirty arrows left in the quiver.

And the Noxians were still coming, and they had already stepped over the limit of a hundred yards.

In twenty seconds at most, the men's long knives were able to whizz and slash at their heads.

Ash's hand was only frozen for a short second, and more than ten years of bloodshed told her the simplest and most profound truth.

When the narrow road meets, the brave wins.

The next moment she drew the arrow again, only this time instead of drawing three as before, she took out one arrow again.

On the one hand, considering that her arrow vector was completely insufficient, on the other hand, she had also noticed that the fastest Noxians were all the elite of the Noxian army, members of the Noxian assassination team, many of them were able to dodge their attacks through excellent consciousness and physical reactions, and even if they were hit, at most they were only injured in the arm or some other unimportant part.

Once these beasts, which only hurt their fur and did not hurt their muscles and bones, once they charged up and pressed themselves in the face, then they would have no room for maneuver.

The most important thing now is to get rid of the ones that are most likely to cause you harm.

Ash's mind flashed through these thoughts in an instant, and she whispered an order as she pulled the string with her arrows again, "All of you shoot flat and snipe, and give it to me within fifty yards." ”

At the moment when the order was given, she aimed sideways, her eyes that were calm to death staring coldly ahead, and her ice-blue pupils locked on the first Noxus assassin who had stepped fifty yards.

Her hand slightly adjusted the angle to a very small angle, and aimed the cold arrow precisely at the opponent's forehead.

The wind blew, the bowstrings sounded like a harp, and the long arrows sounded like shooting stars.

The arrow, with absolute inevitability, pierced the man's skull ferociously, and the tremendous force hidden in the seemingly ordinary arrow lifted the man's entire skull into the air.

Flesh and blood were scattered all over the ground along with brains, and the air was filled with the harsh tearing sound of hindsight.

Ash pursed the corners of her lips, not even looking at the doomed man, and reached back again, her ice-blue pupils searching the forehead of the next dying person at the same time.

At that moment, the cruelty radiating from her ice-blue pupils, combined with the slightly pursed corners of her lonely mouth, was like an eagle hovering high on the top of a snowy mountain, ready to pounce at any moment.

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No one could break through the distance of fifty yards, and although there were enough Noxians and they were fierce enough to die, Ash's bow and arrows had taught them what the farthest distance in the world was.

Anyone who dared to cross fifty yards would be shot through the head with a whizzing bow and arrow, while those who broke through a hundred yards would not be able to move an inch under the flat fire of the Alvarossa.

The Noxians' charge was halted, and the minutes passed until they were approaching the five-minute limit.

However, the most terrible crisis finally broke out.

They, Ash and her hundred-man guard, were left with bows and arrows.

The Noxians, who were struggling to withstand the rain of arrows, were stunned for a moment as if someone who had been choked by the neck had been given another chance to breathe air again, and they subconsciously glanced at the sky, and there was no more rain of arrows except snowflakes.

They finally got to this point, in fact, at the beginning they didn't take Ash and their more than 100 people in their eyes at all, until the first wave of arrows came down, they didn't know that Ash and their horror were gone, but they still charged, fighting for Ash and their sparse personnel and insufficient supplies.

Now, the terrifying rain of arrows has finally stopped, and even the fierce Noxians can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, after all, only after facing the boundless rain of arrows can they feel what kind of despair it is.

In the next moment, these Noxians, who were finally unstoppable, roared out of their savage steps again, and the members of the Noxian assassination team no longer deliberately avoided the possible bows and arrows, and let go of their speed and ran, the fastest one had already stretched the distance to fifteen yards in an instant.

Fifteen yards away. Ash didn't move, she looked at the Noxian, who had finally had a hint of bloodlust in her otherwise dead eyes, and drew her last arrow.

Shoot the arrow, pull the string, aim. Her hands were still as steady as a mountain.

The moment the bow was fired, the Noxian had broken through to within ten yards.

It was just a little bit that his two-yard two-handed knife could easily cut off the woman who had been standing here with a damn cold arrow, and he hated this woman because she had taken the lives of at least three of his brothers who he had been friends with on a daily basis, and what he hated most was the look in this woman's eyes.

That kind of calm, that kind of damn calm without the slightest fear, don't you think it's a terrible thing to die? You, why, what, no, harm, fear?

The Noxian almost roared at this sentence and pounced on him, his long knife already raised in the air.

The boundless killing intent brought by the sharp blade even cut Ash's delicate face, and a small wound cut open in the center of her eyebrows, and a drop of blood oozed out of the wound, and then quickly froze into ice in the cold wind, solidifying on Ash's forehead, like a scarlet cinnabar mole.

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Today, I went to the book review area and saw a great god who said that his first book was 30,000 words A signature, 1,000 collections in 24 hours, and 3,000 collections in 24 hours for the second book.

Look at yourself again, 400,000 words, nearly half a year, 700 collections, no A signature.

I feel sad to feel it.