Before he could raise his shield to block, the sentry hurriedly crossed his sword in an attempt to parry the enemy's attack.

The blade slammed down, sparks of metal from the sharp impact of the sword. A sharp pain like a dislocation came from his shoulder, and Vicol felt the strain on his waist growing stronger: the enemy had been pressing down on the weapon with increasing force. If you are at such a stalemate, you will definitely not be able to resist it.

With a flick of his wrist, Vicol slashed through the enemy's giant blade. After resisting two rapid slashes with his shield, he struggled to move his calves and slowly retreated: the whiplash seemed to be severe, and he could now feel the wet blood in his trousers. The pain spread to his lower body, causing his entire leg to go numb.

We can't be whipped by this torture again...... Gasping for air, the sentinel's blocking moves became more and more difficult: if he didn't stay away from him, he would definitely not be able to withstand the machete attack.

, my legs ...... Feeling more and more difficult to move, he only felt that the bleeding in his thigh was getting worse and worse, and his body had begun to lose temperature. Catching the enemy's massive slash, Vicol quickly glanced at his lower body, and couldn't help but be shocked: his tattered trouser leg had been soaked with blood, and it was oozing blood. This piece of ground is stained with its own mottled blood everywhere.

The terrible thing is that the enemy's attack is becoming more and more rapid. The frequency of the machete's attacks had made Vicor more and more unbearable, and it was especially difficult to even raise a shield to block, let alone seize the gap and fight back with a long sword.

Having never truly experienced such a life-threatening match, the Sentinel's heart grew more and more terrified. His mind grew more and more confused, and he didn't know how to proceed with the next attack after receiving the next blow. It's just that the survival instinct and the unconscious actions of his body support him to block and slash again and again. All the combat techniques and training you've ever learned are in vain, and there's no real sense of reality - the instructors won't teach you how to deal with such crazy corruptors. Besides, this guy is completely different from the enemies who invaded Snowcastle in the past.

It seemed that he was too close to wield the terrible blood-stained whip - as long as he pulled away but not far enough, he would face the double blow of the long whip and the giant blade. But it was obviously much easier to deal with: at least, he couldn't swing the machete so frequently at that distance.

Suppressing the pain signals from his legs, Vicol forced himself to speed up his pace to distance himself. However, to his surprise, the enemy did not chase after him, but chose to continue to move slowly to close in on the sentry.

Enduring the pain, Vicol kept backing away, finally opening up a little distance. Vigilantly watching the movement of the enemy's left hand, the sentry jerked his shield as he raised his whip, ready to block.

However, to his surprise, the whip slammed down, but it did not hit the shield - on the contrary, after the "crackling" sound of the air, Vicor, who was obscured by the shield, was shocked to find a strong pull from his right wrist: the torture whip wrapped around his long sword.

A huge pull came, and the sentry's body was jerked and swiftly dragged towards the Corruptor. Seeing that the machete was about to reach him, Vicor hurriedly released his sword and staggered back. Just a few feet away, the massive blade that slammed deep into the ground slashed at the sentry's head.

His heart was beating wildly, and Vicol, who was on the verge of dying from being unprepared, gasped for air. With great annoyance, he looked at the long sword entangled in the whip in disbelief: Why didn't he think of this earlier?! The tiny spikes on the whip can perfectly jam the weapon and disarm it when the blade is wound. If you can take precautions sooner, you will not lose your only weapon and be in danger......

Two successive slashes of the giant blade slashed into the air, and the jailer roared angrily, frantically shaking his left arm. The long whip swirled in an arc that grew larger and larger, and the long sword wrapped around the whip head swung with a whistling sound. Nervously watching the strange movements of the enemy, the sentry was covered in a cold sweat: what did he want to do by standing still and wielding it?

Just as he was able to ask this question, the enemy swung his body in an epileptic motion and swung his long whip in an arc. Since the head of the whip was tied to the sword, each lash at this time was extremely deadly. Having to keep blocking with his shield, Vicor struggled to catch the weapon's trajectory: the whip was not swinging as fast as it used to be due to the heavy object tied to its head. However, it is precisely because of the uneven weight that the movement of the whip becomes more and more peculiar, and it is difficult to judge the direction of each attack.

The continuous retreat made the leg wound worse, and a feeling of dizziness continued to sweep over Vicol's head. After several unsuccessful strikes, the Corruptor who had been freed from the range of the attack roared and threw his sword out with a slam of rage. Hurriedly dodging sideways, the high-speed flying blade slashed at his side, slicing the sentry's shoulder. Holding his shoulders in pain, slippery blood came out in an instant, constantly flowing down his body.

Just then, the jailer lunged at the sentry, smashing a slash after a frantic high jump. Dodging with all his might, Vicol tripped over the table leg beside him and fell heavily to the ground.

Struggling to get up, Vicol's heart was terrified. Feeling a chill coming over him, he hurriedly rolled to the side, dodging the enemy's direct slash. At this moment, however, a sharp heart-rending pain struck him with the rattle of leather, and the sentry cried out in pain, his eyes blackening: the whip was whipped on his back, and he could even feel the touch of each spike digging deep into the flesh.

The second lash struck immediately, and the sentry rolled over in pain, dodging the massive blade that sliced through his neck. Bending his arm to shield his chest, Vicol forced his way back from two hard slashes and tried to roll away from his enemies again. However, it backfired, and his shield was trampled on by the enemy, and he could not move at all. The enemy laughed wildly and began to stomp on his shield harder and harder.

The left arm under the shield could not resist the force of the stomping, and Vicol tried with all his might to push the boot away from the ominous black smoke. However, the strength of the two was not at the same level at all, and the shield was pressed lower and lower, almost crushing the bones of the arm.

Through a gap in the shield, the sentry stared in horror at the foe, covered in black ice and pus-sores: the blue eyes sent chills through his heart, as if he were about to be sucked out of his soul.

As the pain of blood loss heats up, the Sentinel feels tighter and tighter in his chest, unable to breathe—his chest is crushed, and his lungs are constantly squeezing out every breath of oxygen he breathes.

Breathing was extremely strained in a matter of seconds, and Vicol desperately stretched out his right hand and drew the dagger from his waist. At the moment when he had just stabbed his enemy in the ankle, as if he had finally found his body uncovered by the shield, the enemy let out a laugh and poked the machete.