Simon's sword, slightly longer than a dagger and slightly wider than a dagger, is a large dagger by any means. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

Luca's borrowed sword was light and slender, decorated with gold filigree, delicately patterned, top-heavy, and the blade was tilted to one side, looking like an embroidered pillow that had been beaten back to its original shape.

But at least the sword was relatively long, and he secretly cheered himself up, an inch long and an inch strong.

Simon threw away his dagger and reached out from the deck to grab a scimitar.

"Why did you change your weapon? and it's a knife, right?" called Luca.

"White knives are the same! Besides, this is my knife in the first place. Why, don't you dare to fight, a soft egg that shrinks your eggs!" Simon said and swung his scimitar in the air, the blade splitting a few drops of raindrops, and his skillful movements declared his ownership of the knife.

Lukka reluctantly raised his sword, the hilt facing Simon, the blade tilted to the side.

Simon sneered, and suddenly took two steps forward, and slashed at Luca's right shoulder with a scimitar, perhaps not as powerful as Ollie, but much faster.

Lukka raised his sword to block upward, thinking that he could barely deal with it this time, but he didn't expect the bayonet and scimitar to intersect, not dragging mud and water at all, and bending cleanly again.

Now, the glittering golden sword turned into a big S.

Fortunately, Lukka didn't have much hope for this improvised borrowed weapon, and when he swung his sword, he lowered his body and rolled out on the ground, but the sword remained in place.

Simon bent down and picked up the sword, looked at it carefully, and said with a smile: "It's really useless like you!"

"I've seen more than that, okay?" Lukka said without showing weakness.

Simon looked at his opponent as if he were looking at a dead man: "Leave a last word, coward! ”

Lukka got up from the deck, lowered his head and said slowly, "I was just about to tell you, leave a last word." ”

Not only Simon, but even the pirates who were still tied up burst into laughter.

Lukka was silent, standing motionless in the middle of the deck, letting the raindrops drip down his body and down his hair.

Ollie's eyes lit up as she looked at the tip of Simon's sword.

Crete smiled lightly, leaned against the railing, and took a puff on his cigar with a wide-brimmed hat to shield himself from the rain.

A scroll hung from the tip of the stabbing sword, shimmering with fire, and quickly turned to ashes.

Simon threw his bayonet to the ground, raised his scimitar, and shouted at Luca, "Die!"

Then he slipped under his feet, threw himself horizontally into the air, and then fell heavily on the deck, his back making intimate contact with the deck.

He tried to get up, propping himself up on the deck with his left hand, and after a long time kicking on his legs, he was still struggling on the deck doing useless work.

Then he put his hands on the ground, and even plunged his cutlass into the gap between the planks, but this only caused him to fall hard again, and his face hit the ground first.

"What's wrong with him?" whispered the sailors of the merchant ship, squinting their eyes in the pouring rain and struggling to watch.

Centered on the tip of the curved sword, the three-meter diameter is covered with a layer of glittering grease, and whenever lightning lights up, a colorful halo is reflected on the grease layer, which is gorgeous but dangerous.

In a moment, Simon was covered in grease, and any movement he made was just a spin on the spot.

He gasped and stared viciously at Luca who was walking step by step, and his initial contempt completely turned into disbelief: "How is it possible? You bastard, you can't have such a skill!"

Lukka picked up his sword, and Crete whispered a reminder from the side: "White Blade Duel." ”

Lukka nodded, stepping into the confines of the grease layer.

Simon was stunned to find that the grease that he had no way to deal with turned into small balls and scattered around Lukka as he approached, embracing Lukka like the stars holding the moon.

He shuddered, Simon had never been so scared since the first day he boarded the pirate ship. He tried to raise the scimitar, but the blade was firmly stuck to the deck with slimy grease, and he could only watch as the bayonet picked the scimitar apart and stabbed him into his right shoulder, pinning him in place.

"The winner is decided. Lukka said, his voice unhurried, "Leave the rest to the Lord of the Storm." ”

A thunderbolt sounded in the sky, and the others were startled, but Lukka clearly felt the emotion in his divine power: very satisfied.

He turned to face the crowd: "So, their ship ......"

Before he finished speaking, there was a gust of wind behind him, and the short sword that was thrown away by Simon just now flew through the air and went straight to the back of Luca's head, and at the same time he heard Simon shouting hysterically behind him: "Who finished speaking?"

Simon, who suffered a shoulder injury, failed to keep his head on point, and the short sword "clicked" into the mast next to Luka, and the tail kept shaking.

Simon still cursed, throwing everything he could reach with his still mobile left hand.

Crete shook his head and added, "Never die." ”

Lukka sighed, looked at the bodies of innocent people not far away, and made a decision. He reached for the Cretan cigar, but threw it backwards without turning.

With a bang, the flames soared into the sky, and with a few terrible howls, the figure of Simon, the barrel in the flames, became more and more blurred, and finally turned into a cloud of filthy colors, and the figure and voice disappeared.

Even the pouring rain couldn't shrink the magic flame by half a point. But this flame does not accept any combustion, but silently shines and heat within the scope of the grease technique, until the grease burns out, and it is extinguished without a little nostalgia.

As the storm subsided, Stowe, the Lord of the Storm, received the sacrifice and left satisfied, leaving behind a few boatloads of bright sunshine.

"Victory, victory, victory!" Shut up, the Peregrine finally flew out of the cabin of the Peregrine Falcon, landed on the mast of the merchant ship, and celebrated loudly.

"What about these pirates?" Crete asked.

"Bring over all the weapons, ammunition, supplies, and cargo from the pirate ship, and give this merchant ship some compensation. Lukka said, "As for the pirates, let them go back to their ships, and leave the rest to the Lord of the Storm." ”

Crete frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Oh yes, don't forget to remove the rudder of that ship, and unload the sails of the ship, I think the sails of this merchant ship can be repaired with it. Luca added.

Crete finally smiled and directed the sailors to carry the cargo.

The pirates shouted in dissatisfaction: "There are no sails, no rudders, no supplies, there are no uninhabited islands around here, you might as well kill us now!"

Some cried bitterly: "I know it's wrong! I surrender! You can send me to the port for trial!"

Lukka shook his head: "Surrender?" I don't have a problem, but they probably won't agree." As he spoke, he pointed to the mangled corpses of sailors and women and children on the deck.

"As for the sails and rudders," he paused, "it doesn't matter, you can rely on the waves." ”

Ignoring the chatter of the pirates, the sailors of the merchant ship and the Peregrine Falcon methodically carried the pirate ship's merchandise, and Ollie put down his greatsword to help.

Lukka took off his coat and wrung out the rain, and it wasn't long before he heard Ollie excitedly waving his hand on the opposite boat:

"Luka, come and see, this box is different!"