"You, now go and ask Zorn to come over. Tristra roared past the bewildered Drow soldiers, and when they saw the comer, they nodded as if they had found the backbone, turned around and ran towards the depths of the tent.

Maintaining order in the military formation was one of the duties of the patrol guards, and Trist had no reason to leave the scene of the incident. The trolls in front of them laughed indulgently, the general hierarchy of drow society could not bind them - their normal life was already outside the core of the city.

The drow watchers just watched blankly, for them, the term unity only existed under the premise of safeguarding the interests of the family and individuals, and the wounded on the ground were just a few members of the small clan who had been excluded from the Round Table Council, and they naturally did not need to risk the danger of clash with the trolls.

Trist screamed inwardly, complaining about this silent atrocity, and at the same time helpless, disheartened by the silent attitude of his compatriots. What is happening in front of us, as Char once said, violence does not solve the root cause of the problem.

The white-haired Drow held the handle of the scimitar tightly with both hands, the irritable green tendons protruding from the surface of the muscles, and the pair of lilac eyes stared at the troll in front of him, and on the neck of the other party, a string of "necklaces" connected by the ears of various creatures was displayed in front of everyone.

"Troll Hunter" ......

The taller troll struck a languid posture, but no one thought of him as a kind cat, but on the contrary, his seemingly casual countenance was always greeted with a striking glare from time to time.

Even Trist, who had been through a hundred battles, couldn't help but raise the hairs on his body, and his intuition told him that, just like his ugly appearance, the other party was indeed an extremely dangerous existence.

The troll slapped the large trunk in his hand at random, and the heavy slapping sound highlighted the weight of the trunk itself, and no one would doubt what kind of damage such a heavy object would cause if it fell on him—a broken bone, which was the luckiest outcome.

The crowd of onlookers slowly relinquished the venue, and faintly, cleared the open space between Trist and the others and the trolls into a relatively empty battlefield. The composition of the audience is a bit complicated, but the relationship between them can be vaguely seen - the priests always form a circle of their own, and the leaders of the drow high priests, such as Cecylis, and others are not present, they naturally do not want to stay in such a filthy and muddy place for a long time, and Commander Char, perhaps for some reason, did not restrict these women with special status.

Most of the drows are basically family-based, and those who know each other are more willing to lean with people who are close to them, and among them, the family members in the Round Table Council rely on each other to maintain their own safety at all times.

More members of smaller families are excluded from the other, unable to fit into the former's circle and disdainful of the rest of the tribes such as dwarves, gnomes, and goblins. They are like a group of down-and-out aristocrats, sadly maintaining what remains of their "dignity".

The servants seemed to have long been accustomed to such treatment, and they smiled and leaned on the ground, and kept a simple mood for the play, as if they had gathered in front of the enthusiastic flames of the adventurer's tavern to enjoy the drunkards' fights.

The only pity is that there is no marsh beer in the barracks.

On one side is a four-member patrol guard, while on the other side is a five-person squad of trolls who are extremely tough. Some of the do-gooders even sighed in their hearts that the goblin merchant, Sir Turner, was not there, otherwise it would be the best time to gamble again.

However, there are no absolutes, because in the patrol guard, the white-haired drow named Trist may be a variable - he has some dazzling aura on him, the "divine messenger" cronies, and the disciple of Zorn's martial arts master, etc. And the few who know him know that if it weren't for the influence of his too "weak" character, this guy's original strength might be no less than that of the former "second" martial arts chief of the Evant family, Serafi.

When they set their eyes on the other people beside the white-haired Drow, they took their original assumptions back even further.

Sarah is an extremely good tracker of Gulrolla, and is also one of the strongest assassins in the night; Ronald has a good talent for witchcraft since he was a child, and the mother of the fifth family seems to be interested in cultivating, and a large amount of resources in the family are inclined to him, which is extremely unusual in the past; Josphink, the famous dragon knight, has the best level of dragon riding in the city, and his own martial arts are naturally among the best.

"Yo, who am I, isn't this the captain of the Tristalt Guard?, what, you also have to dictate to our brothers?" the troll hunter smashed the trunk vertically into the ground, and in the midst of the force, the trunk was firmly embedded in the hole that had been smashed out. He crossed his hands on his hips, but his slender hunched figure looked a little weird.

"Sabas, this is Char's army, not your Barcelo family, go wild, go back to your lair!"

"Tsk. The exposed fangs added a strange cruelty to the troll's smile, and he looked at the boy in front of him, like a barking puppy, "Speaking of which, aren't you the pet of the little of Yis, and now you can't do without Commander Char, what's the matter, it's a change of owner?"

Anger didn't need the other party's provocation to reach its peak, Trist laughed back, "Only real dogs pay attention to who their owners are, unfortunately, Mistress Barcelo doesn't seem to want you as a dog, otherwise how could she let you bite here?"

When did Sabbas hear such an unbridled mockery—all the people who had said such things before had turned their souls to the Lord God of Jegger, and examined their own faults. The troll hunter pulled the trunk back out of the tree, and he roared indulgently, the tent outside seemed to be vibrating with sound waves.

"Trist, you're killing yourself. ”

The furious troll swung his trunk and strode at the young Drow, with his broad soles and slender lower limbs, the rugged terrain could not hinder his progress, and his steps made the mark of the debut on the somewhat loose ground, Sabbas's eyes were fixed on Trist in front of him, and the other party must have been a corpse in his mind.

Spurred on by the leader's actions, four other trolls roared towards the other three members of the guard, clutching in their hands the thick trunks of trees, all of which were simple and brutal tools.

For them, weapons are mere consumables, and no man-made product can withstand the ravages of their violence, and only this ubiquitous natural product can satisfy their penchant for wreckage and brutality—to take another one and use it again if it is broken.