General Tucker shook as if he had been electrocuted, his face turned pale, and he looked at the bishop again. Gritting his teeth, he ordered: "Order, don't retreat, maintain the formation!"

The shield captain exclaimed, "General!"

General Tucker let out a low roar, "Shut up, are you a general or am I a general?", he glared at the captain, "Didn't you hear the order, don't take a step back!"

The crowd was still frantically squeezing forward, even though they were all yellow-faced and skinny refugees, so many people were pushing forward at the same time, and their strength could be directly bulldozed even if it was a strong city wall, but the shield in front of them still didn't move!

There is no wall in the world that is stronger and more insurmountable than these shields.

The tall shields were firmly planted in the ground, and the warriors with the shields were bent down, lunged, and pressed directly against the shields with their shoulders. The knotted muscles and bulging muscles make them all look like the legendary Hercules who have accomplished great deeds. At this moment, they are equivalent to competing with hundreds of thousands of people!

It's not about one as ten, but as one as a hundred!

It's like a tug-of-war, the two sides are deadlocked with each other, and everyone bites their last breath tightly, not daring to relax. It's just that the screams that had been constantly sounding before slowly stopped moving, and at this time, the refugees who were squeezed firmly on the shield no longer struggled like dancing just now, and the smell of feces and urine slowly filled the air.

The metal walls, which reflected the sunlight and seemed to be gilded, were now painted with a conspicuous layer of red, like a child's graffiti on a precious painting.

Distorted, ugly, like the worst of mischief, the glaring red is not a mockery of this mischief, a mockery of fragile, ridiculous life.

Slowly, someone in the crowd shouted in horror, "Don't squeeze, don't squeeze! Someone is squeezed to death!", the sound spread, and the crowd fell into a commotion. When the news of "someone died" spread, the refugees were even more panicked.

Eventually, the fear and awe of death brought the refugees back to their senses, and they cowered and retreated, leaving a gap between the crowd and the shield wall. The tragic image of people pressed on shields and squeezed to death was completely presented in front of people's eyes.

The original three-dimensional person, as if flattened, was spread out on the shield, not humanoid. Blood splattered on the shield in a spurt shape, and the white bones pierced out of the skin, the pale color was chilling, and the surface of the skin was completely soaked in blood, slowly converging into a line of blood, dripping downward.

It's like an orange from the outside in, and the moisture inside is completely squeezed out.

It was so miserable, so cruel! Those refugees had never seen such a miserable situation, and many of them were already frail, and when they were stimulated by this, they immediately rolled their eyes and fainted. There are also many people squatting on the ground retching, but their stomachs are empty, and they really can't vomit anything except some sour water.

"Dead man, still so miserable. The atmosphere of terror slowly spread through the crowd, and the refugees no longer dared to attack the cathars as they did before.

Suddenly, a stone flew up from the crowd and smashed into the head of the soldier behind the shield. A heart-rending shout rang out, "It's all you, it's you lackeys of the Holy Sect who killed them, you murderous demons!"

The soldier's head was tilted, and the stone flashed over, for it was not difficult for them to dodge the arrows even if they had been in a hundred battles, not to mention that the stone was still soft.

But the stone was like a fuse, and instead of moving forward, the refugees swarmed to pick up the stone and throw it at the cathars, accompanied by foul language.

"You brutes, are you still human! ”

"Not only did they hide food, but they also killed people, you killed, you have the ability to kill all of us, and we won't be able to live anyway. And so on and so forth.

People were screaming and scolding frantically, throwing stones, as if venting, venting their anger and fear.

Or to hide their fear, to hide their panic at killing someone.

Why did those people die? It was not so much because the cathars refused to give way, but because they were squeezed to death by these refugees, but in fact, everyone knew this more or less in their hearts, so everyone present was a murderer! But people's subconscious, they will never admit that they have killed someone, and they will find all kinds of reasons to cover it up.

Yes, it's not our fault! It's the cathar's fault, if they weren't so ruthless and refused to let us live, how could we have fought so hard, and how would those people have been squeezed to death?

Under this psychological suggestion, under the influence of all kinds of shouting slogans, people began to throw stones at the cathars more frantically, and in any case all around them were destroyed, church ruins, stones and other materials were readily available.

For a while, it was like a torrential rain, and the stones that covered the sky were thrown at the cathar soldiers, and they rained down on their shields and armor with a "bumping" sound, and some women pounced, kneeling down and crying and pleading: "Please, let us pass, or we will all die here." ”

Faced with such a scene, many fighters showed a rare look of panic on their faces. They were not afraid of the enemy's swords, guns, and arrows, and the stones that flew by them were as painless as tickling, after all, for them, injuries and pain were commonplace.

But the insults, the pleadings, and the cries really pierced their hearts and shook their faith. The soldiers of the Guardian Army are undoubtedly the most devout believers, and they abide by the holy commandments and the precepts of the Holy Church, and they take to heart the doctrines of "God loves the world" and so on.

They will never bully the weak, they will not kill innocents, they will charge against God's enemies, they will fight against those treacherous and wicked, but the sword in their hands will never face the common people, the good people. They will not be tempted by money, nor will they be persecuted by power, they will be self-denying and courageous.

Therefore, they are the proudest warriors in the world, because they believe that their own battles, their own killings, are for justice, for the sake of the gods, and not for their own selfish desires.

But today, their weapons are stained with the blood of civilians.