In spring, the sun shines through the leaves and dappled through the dense forest. Although it is the season of spring flowers, the cold air has not yet dissipated, and if you walk in the woods at this time, you can still feel the cold climate of the American continent at this time.

Now, however, there was a group of warriors with their right chests bare, and only the left half of their bodies in armor, walking through the cold woods. The group of people had black hair and black eyes, stiff foreheads, and thick eyebrows on their faces, almost in a line, and they could be seen to be Hispanic.

Just ten days ago, Bryson Andrés, the most famous young painter in Spain and the Iberian Peninsula, led a team of mercenaries deep into the jungle to collect style. Ten days had passed, and Andrés had not been heard from, and Pizarro, the owner of the Spanish merchant ship, fearing that something had happened to him, sent seventy warriors on board to look for him.

Of course, Pasalo would not be unaware of the dangers of the American continent, so among the seventy warriors he sent, there were six archers, twenty-five sword and shield warriors, and the remaining thirty-nine, including the leader, were all wolf warriors of the Spanish Druid Sect. The Druids are well-known in Europe, and their strength is on a par with that of the Holy See of Light. Pizarro believed that with a druid warrior at the lead, even against the average small Indian tribe, he would not be left behind.

However, the strength of strength has nothing to do with finding someone. It's been two days, and instead of finding any trace of Andres, they, under the leadership of the leader, are getting closer and closer in the direction of the Dark Council's stronghold. At the speed at which they were marching, it would be about half a day before they could see the gates of the council stronghold.

The insects and birds in the woods are singing endlessly, and the atmosphere is quite harmonious. The warriors chatted loudly as they went, teasing each other in vulgar tones, unaware that they had stepped into the realm of death. Just when they were defenseless······.

Whoosh!

Two arrows flew from the forest, kicking off the battle.

The arrows came trickily, and the Spanish warriors were caught off guard, and the two grinning archers were directly killed on the spot by the arrows through the throat.

Since this team of Spanish warriors dared to come to the New World, they were naturally veterans of battle. In the face of the sudden attack, they did not panic, but quickly organized a counterattack under the leadership of the team leader.

The sword and shield warriors quickly formed a defensive circle, surrounding the archers and bloodline warriors inside. These thirty-nine Spanish bloodline warriors were all Druids, and they took the opportunity to use the Druid Transformation Technique for the first time.

The bloodline warriors lay on the ground, shouting at the sky as they opened their mouths and tore at their clothes. In a series of heart-rending roars, their bodies underwent strange changes, and layers of black hairs quickly grew on their originally smooth skin. The muscles and bones are elongated, the shape is abrupt, and the one with the brush becomes a wild wolf more than one person tall.

"Druid Transfiguration! It's a druid mound, damn it!"

With this beautiful lark-like sound, black spears struck them with black smoke. The bloodline warriors had just completed their transformation, and before they could step out of the sword and shield warriors' defensive circle, the spears had already pierced through the bodies of the sword and shield warriors and archers, and were approaching the top of their heads.

The warriors who had already completed their transformations were very fast, and all but four of them were slow to react, and the rest of the warriors dodged before the spears hit the ground. Now, only half of the seventy warriors remained, but the battle was not over.

"Druid warriors, your souls are also the best sacrifices, and since they have been sent to the door, then you are welcome. ”

As the words fell, Dylan dropped his bow and arrows and flew in pursuit of the Spanish warriors.

As he ran, he saw a strange flash of light in mid-air, and a small blue scimitar appeared in Dylan's hand. Having gotten this new weapon and having never seen blood, Dylan couldn't wait to give it a try, the sharpness of the scimitar.

Seeing Dylan chasing after him alone, the Spanish warrior grinned and lunged at him. In the woods, thirty-five huge wild wolves and an elegant figure flickered and danced a graceful waltz. In this dance arena, the loser will be the winner's ration.

Dylan's eyes were printed with the infographic provided by the butler, and he followed the direction indicated by the infographic, with a step under his feet that no one could understand, and the scimitar lightly slashed through the necks of one wild wolf. Precise, dexterous, and elegant, with the help of the butler chip, Dylan is in this posture, slowly harvesting the lives of druid warriors.

One wolf after another fell to the ground and slowly changed back into human form, until only the druid leader was left behind. Seeing the other soldiers die tragically under this murder weapon, he also knew that this time he would not be spared.

At the last moment, he did not think of running away, but in a moth to a flame, he once again threw himself at the enemy. It turns out that the gap in strength is not something that courage can bridge. Dylan just dodged sideways, holding the cutlass on his lower abdomen.

Slav ····· Bang.

The belly of the druid leader, slashing through the tip of the scimitar, made a sound like a cloth tearing. Dylan held the scimitar with the blade upward, looking at the blood left on the knife, slowly sliding down the crescent-like blade, drop by drop. The blood beads fell to the ground, blooming into delicate blood flowers.

Bang Bang ······

Emilia applauded, walked up to Dylan with an admiring smile, and praised him: "No matter how many times you look at it, I think your method of killing people can be called art." You really deserve to be a daywalker, your qualifications in martial arts or magic are not comparable to other blood clans I have seen. ”

The scimitar turned into a blue wheel of light in mid-air, and disappeared into Dylan's hand in an instant. With his right hand on his chest, he gracefully saluted Emilia and said, "May I present you with this art of killing." My princess. ”

Hahaha····· Haha······

Emilia smiled wantonly, her eyes curved into a crescent moon: "Your mouth is so sweet, you must have deceived a lot of girls, right? ”

Dylan stared at Emilia and said with a smile, "Everything I said was just from the heart, if ······." ”

"Alright, let's go, the people from the stronghold will be there soon. ”

After interrupting Dylan, Emilia walked in the direction of the colony, leaving only a beautiful back of her head for him.