Little John desperately stuffed food into his mouth, even if his fellow villagers around him were also the fat cook's eyes to eat a rice bucket, but in comparison, Little John was undoubtedly an oversized rice bucket.

The vessel was holding a large basin as deep as the knight's helmet, but several circles larger than the helmet, and each meal required a basin of multigrain porridge and a large bread stick.

No matter who sees it for the first time, such a thin human civilian eating and drinking like this, he will have a feeling that he has eaten this meal and is afraid that he will not have to eat the next meal.

In fact, it is exactly like this, to a large extent, little John also has the mentality of dying after he is full, letting go of his belly and holding on......

Here's what happened: in the great air battle ten days ago, the air forces of the Burning Legion, before engaging the combined air force led by His Majesty the Little Dwarf Modo, had been bombarding the first line of defense for several minutes, and in those few minutes, the first line of defense had suffered heavy losses.

Only about thirty percent of the personnel were lost, but those defensive facilities that had been built with great difficulty were quickly melted away under the scorching black dragon breath, like snow under the scorching sun, and there was no need to repair them at all.

Therefore, the big nobles and lords in the rear made a decision with a pat on their heads: to abandon the first line of defense, and all the relevant personnel were strengthened to the second line of defense.

As a result, little John, who was unlucky enough to get home, became one of the many unlucky ones who guarded the first line of defense.

In the words of the lame veteran Hader: "The end of life of these cannon fodder and unlucky eggs has begun to count down, and the only uncertainty is that the time of this countdown is a few days or ten days; ”

If you can't fight and fight, it is even more impossible to escape, and even something you can't think of, and soon there will be a strong sense of decadence in the cannon fodder of the first line of defense, and morale will be even lower to the lowest freezing point.

Even the Baron, who commanded their hundreds of peasants, was pale and terrified all this time, until the arrival of the strange orc two days earlier......

Although he was a farmer and only a handful of orcs he had seen before coming here, Little John could swear in the name of Lao Tzu, who had been dead for an unknown number of years, that he had never seen such a strange orc.

This is a bear man in the prime of life, with strong muscles and two heads taller than Little John's head, exactly like a raging black bear walking upright.

He wore a large-brimmed hat, a crisp military uniform, a shiny silver breastplate on his upper body, black riding boots, and a leather black coat on the outermost, which looked so cold and stylish.

The baron who led them, wearing the armor that was said to be an ancestral heirloom, usually looked majestic, but compared to the orc, he was simply a native girl in the countryside, and the noble lady in the city met him, and he couldn't say shabby.

The orc's weapon was also strange, it was actually a shiny one-handed long knife, plus an oval tin trumpet barrel, and as for his position, little John had heard of it for the first time: Lord Commissar.

This newly-born position, said to have been created by His Majesty Modo, the little dwarf of the Iron Lord, was said to multiply the morale and battle of the soldiers of the army, and the power of this political commissar was also amazing, and he could kill anyone of them on the spot when he saw it necessary, including the baron who commanded their hundreds of peasants......

"Soldiers, all the creatures of the Fila Continent have reached the most dangerous time, and at this time, no one powerful hero, or wise king, can defeat the Burning Legion, the most ferocious opponent of all time; “

The commissar held the tin horn and roared loudly in a thick voice.

He was surrounded by many farmers, and even the elite soldiers of the regular army of the Orlan Empire, not that little John didn't want to lean over, but that this was the time for him to stand guard after a short meal.

But although little John stood far away with his dung fork, his ears were always paying attention to every word of the commissar.

Little John had to marvel at the fact that this cold political commissar on the surface was extremely kind in front of them cannon fodder.

It is unbelievable that such a big man like this, who even has to accompany the baron, with a smiling face, is like them, the lowest cannon fodder, who sleeps directly behind a thin bed at night and directly behind the low wall on the defensive line.

Even in the face of the baron's request to go to a comfortable tent to rest together, he smiled and flatly refused.

Even when it comes to eating and drinking, the political commissar is like these cannon fodder, stirring the horse spoon in the huge pot, drinking vegetable soup without much oil and water, and eating black bread sticks that are almost hard enough to be used as weapons.

The only thing that is special is that the commissar can get a pound of liquor called Wodega every day, and the commissar uses a silver-white, flattened steel bottle to keep it close to him.

It is this special treatment, the political commissar does not have it exclusively, he will always take out to let them these lowly cannon fodder take a sip; little John clearly remembers the night before, when he was standing guard at night, the political commissar who came to check the post let him take such a big sip.

Even after so much time, little John still remembers the wonderful taste, and almost instantly little John set up a grand ideal: in his lifetime, he must have a good meal of Red Star Wodega, how can he have as much as a pound......

It's just a short period of time, and the political commissar has become the closest and most respected person among these cannon fodder, and there is no one of them.

He seems to have infinite energy, and he rarely sees him idle all day long, either cordially chatting with the cannon fodder, or holding the iron horn to introduce the importance of this war.

It was also from the mouth of the political commissar that little John knew about this war, and they were not only fighting for His Majesty the King, but also for their own relatives in the rear......

I don't know what others think, anyway, Little John has made up his mind, even if he dies in battle, he will nail it to this line of defense before he dies, and kill as many demons as possible; Thinking of this, Little John subconsciously tightened the dung fork in his hand.