"How can you say so sure?" the light infantryman's tone sounded skeptical. Pen fun and pavilion www.biquge.info

"Do you know the man who lectured in front of you? the old man with the gray beard. Muhdin narrowed his eyes, as if he was sleepy, and he yawned.

"Ha Praise, our marshal. ”

"Look at his beard. ”

"It's nothing special, the old man's beard is like this. The light infantry stared at it for a long time, scratching his head.

"Didn't you notice that his beard was particularly shiny? He had just washed his beard. Muhatdin spoke as if he were talking to himself.

"What does this have to do with whether we can win or not?" The light infantry seemed to be even more confused.

"We're going to win. This time, Muhdin seemed to be talking to himself.

Then they heard the old, loud and majestic voice.

"The Calaf Fort is right in sight, and the Brother Salander inside has been holding out for five days, and the Rhodoks now think they will take the castle before dawn, throw our icons off the city, and trample our corpses. The voices drifted out across the endless desert.

"But what I do know is that it's not going to be possible for them to see the sun tomorrow. After these words, there was a long silence, with the occasional sound of the horse's nose, which was particularly piercing, and the heat of the people's exhalation rose slowly in the warm light of the fire.

"The enemy is ahead. Then the soldiers heard the sound of Salander's sword rubbing out of its scabbard, and it was like a small flame that lit a fuse, and the silent crowd became restless, like the subtle sizzle of a flame growing in strength, and the oppressive sound lasted only a few seconds, followed by an earth-shattering roar, mixed with prayers and curses, and countless steps shook the earth, like a deep and dark night sky roaring low and hard.

As the Rhodok tent burned to ashes with flames, and the wind looked cruel and majestic, the gates of Fort Calaf slowly opened, and the exhausted laughter filled the dusty air, while the blood-stained scimitar banners fluttered on the walls, stark and silent in the faint morning light. Muhdadin looked at the banner and muttered, saying that he would win, the old man's beard was so bright, he didn't laugh much, but slowly rubbed his hands vigorously, looking serious and meticulous, but the blood stains had dried. In the recent battle, he had stabbed two Rhodok crossbowmen to death in the back, blood running down the shaft of the spear, and he felt only a stream of heat flow through his hands. After that, many rushed ahead of him. He was also running, but not so excited, he controlled his pace, not so slow but not too hurried, he clearly saw that the light infantry in front were knocked down by crossbow arrows in the shadows, and fell crookedly, and were trampled under the feet of those who rushed up from behind, a scene that reminded him in his mind before he began to run. He's still running. Those who speak such a proper language should not come to war, and he himself said to himself that it was like a kind of grumbling, and it sounded awkward to this scream. Soon they raised their torches, looked at the elaborate tents, and threw them in an angry manner, the flames rattling in the wind, and then devouring them without knowing what to do. He was the same, but not so emotionally, but as a duty.

"Hey, you're right. The hussaman, who had been chatting with him, caught a glimpse of Muhardin in a cheer, and he had become full of energy, and a smile of excitement appeared on his smoky swarthy face, and he patted him vigorously as if a child had just been given some playful toy.

"There will be days like this in the future," Muhdin patted the dust on his body as if he hadn't heard him, as if something heavy had been weighed on his body, and he took it off for a while. ”

The sun had completely emerged from the horizon, and the sand, the castle, and the dried blood were frozen into vivid colors in the fierce light.

After the Salanders won their decisive victory at Fort Calaf, the Rhodoks had to retreat continuously, from Shariz to Fort Wieha, where the corpses of the Rhodoks could be seen everywhere in the deserts, steppes and forests. There was no doubt that Salander had won the victory in defending his homeland, and that Muhatdin had left blood on what he called the hateful land, and that he had a few more scars on his arms, which he would sometimes look at as if he were a man chattering with an old friend who had been with him for a long time.

Muhdin was then stationed at the Fort of Wiyeha with the old marshal, where he saw a different view of the Karad continent. He loved the vast grasslands with their soft and bright green sheen, and the faint fresh smell of olives wafting from the distant air. However, when he was told two months later that he was going to march with his troops to the Garmiedburg, he did not show any particular reluctance or sadness. He scratched his head, and said to himself with his kind and honest smile a little slowly: "It seems that I still have to be honest with the sand in this life." In fact, he misses the taste of Shibazumo dates a little, even though the environment is always harsh.

When they passed through the village of Shibazoum, it was in ruins, the village had recently been sacked by the Kujits, and the wordless graves looked glaring and ugly beside the mess of bricks. Muhddin has since lost news of his mother. It was still a clear and cold dawn, and he followed the troops past the village, and the face of the married girl came to his mind, and the familiar and heavy taste of dates gradually soaked from the tip of his tongue. He rubbed his arms against the cold, rough with new scars. He was so uncomfortable, for the first time in his life, but he couldn't cry.

In the years that followed, Muhardin fought hopelessly in the desolate desert of Saland, in the far-reaching steppes of Kugit, and in the quiet and solemn Azugang Pass. For more than 40 years, he became the lucky man of those who said he was not dead. He sometimes wondered why the bad luck that had been spoken of by the crowd had not yet befallen him. On a common night, when the weather was cold and the wind would not stop, he would bend his already rickety back, sit down slowly, and let his eyes just cross the wall in front of him, and look into the monotonous, unchanging, and endless night in the distance, and think about it. However, there was always no answer to this question, and the only thing he could tell himself was that he was alive, or that he was alive to answer the question. Later, he didn't think about it, but silently chewed the dates, which felt familiar and familiar to him, and it was the only weapon he could use against this cold darkness. Later, he didn't need to leave this sandy land to fight. He had heard that the Kalad Empire had grown stronger than ever, and that the proud Rhodoks and rebellious Kujit who had fought against them were now forced to submit to the feet of the man known as Lady Asona. He was happy, but at the same time a little worried. He still complained about all the obnoxious things here, but now he was one of the old sentinels of the Garmiedburg, and stood on the walls with that eternal tiredness and haggardness, but also gentle and strong. It wasn't until another dull day that the news of the new war slightly shattered his peace of mind and confirmed the worries that had been lurking in his heart all along. The Kallads attacked, and the fort of Gamied, where he was located, became the first fortress to be conquered by the enemy. Again, he wondered, what was all this for. The taste of dates diffused in his mouth again, and he relieved his restlessness and tension with his usual chewing motion. Time passed unhurriedly, and at last he heard the news that the Callades were coming tomorrow morning.

Come on, come on, he muttered in a hoarse, dry voice, as if talking to himself, and the veteran beside him, two or three paces away from him, glanced at him, yawned, and nodded, as if to approve of his words, and as if it were just to refresh himself, to move his head. There was a commotion and commotion in the castle, just as they had been told a few days before that the Callards would be coming in a few days, and it seemed to be a daily ritual of sorts, with an uncontrollable excitement and fear of the coming of war, and a certain inevitable yearning and longing born of fantasy. The young soldiers were the priests of the ritual, while veterans like Muhdin were not very involved, they were tired and never-ending, and then they would smile helplessly at such activities, only to think that the young people were too wasted to do so.

The noise was like a tide rising in the shadows, rising and falling, and Muhdadin seemed to hear again the sound that had come from the distant gloom of the march near Sharez a long time ago, and the memories were commonplace for him, but still pleasant and comfortable to him. In such a state of mind, he gradually saw the dawn of dawn on the horizon. He heard the sound of a trumpet, a call to go out of the city.

The Callad army marched through the desert in a well-organized battle procession, the vanguard of which was made up of the most fierce knights, led by Count Ellen himself, and the pattern of the three swords glittered in the blazing sun. Behind was the main army, consisting of sergeants and crossbowmen, heavy cavalry, and at the end of the ranks were some reserve infantry and mercenaries. Earl Reys of Halmar and Earl William of Rana galloped through the army and formed a tight formation. The Swedish Count of Veruga rode slowly on his horse in the hands of the sergeant and crossbowman, and his expression was solemn and solemn.

The weather was hot and dry, without a hint of wind, and the soldiers took a deep breath and moved forward firmly.

The big war is just around the corner.

Sheikh Muha'i looked at the tidal wave of troops in the distance, and his outline became clearer. He looked at the endless procession, its wings spread like giant birds, and the vivid patterns and colors, nervous and excited. He was all too familiar with this desert, during which he galloped, fought, sang, and mourned, and it was an irreplaceable barren paradise that the Swadians who did not know how to cherish it would only trample on. He looked at the soldiers around him, their armor wasn't as fresh and bright as the one on the other side, but it was well-honed, and each of them had the same expression on their faces as his own.

On the battlefield only to see who is brave, he thought to himself.

His stern eyes turned to the chiefs beside him, and he shouted, "Go to the place where they are deployed!" Salander's horses neighed, and all the chiefs obeyed the marshal's orders.

"Bring me my sword!" he commanded the attendant standing behind him.

The armies on both sides stopped moving and remained silent. The battle horn was not sounded for a long time, but the drums were beating in everyone's hearts. The only thing in the desert is the eagle hovering, and above that lies the imminent death of fate, who uses his mysterious cloak to bring the ominous silence before the battle. Large, chunky clouds froze in the air.

At last the wind rose, blowing billowing sand, the clouds moved rapidly, and the god of death stretched out his cloak! The horses roared as hard as they could, lowered their ears, and galloped as best they could.

Clearly seeing the movements of the Karadists, Sheikh Muha'i raised his sword, pointed to the left, and shouted the name of Sheikh Hurassen.

Sheikh Hurasen understood, waved his right hand, and shouted with great strength in a calm voice: Allah is with us. Salander's infantry lined up closely, lowered their spears and began to march forward, from slow to running, and gradually began to gallop, advancing at a terrible pace, like a torrent pouring down, and there was no room for regain.

The earth trembled beneath their feet, as if it had suppressed the power and roared lowly.

The Great War is about to be in full swing. The rest of the Salander soldiers began to sing the old war song of their desert, and they cried out from their chests, and their voices resounded like thunder in the heavens and the earth: Allah, have mercy on us! This song was mixed with the painful voice of the earth, the shouts of the soldiers, the neighing of the horses, and it seemed chaotic and powerful.

The battle situation on the right flank is gradually becoming clear. The light infantry with spears fell in front of the battle, and the light armor they wore could not protect their bodies, and the Svadian knights were all dressed in plate armor, and their horses were also covered in armor, and their spears could not hurt the body of the Svadians, but the knights' maces and swords could easily chop them into meat sauce, and the horses could trample their bodies, so that the blood became rivers in vain, and the barren desert was clear and cruel. The left flank of the Salanders was breached, and the Count of Ellene, desperate to seize the opportunity, ignored the fleeing light infantry, and quickly formed his formation, ready to storm the gap on the left flank, piercing the Salander army like a sharp blade. And the large forces of the Swadians have already swept in like a tidal wave.