"To trample, to ravage, to destroy this mortal city!"

Seeing that the Iron Riders under his command, after igniting the protective flames, rushed towards the human mages who had lost most of their spell-casting abilities in a frenzy, Pajon opened his bloody mouth and let out an insolent roar:

"Let them know that I—the land through which Paron passes is barren and full of iron hooves!"

With that, he didn't look at the mortals who seemed to him destined to be minced meat, and raised his head to look at the top of the bell tower, wanting to ask the demon lord who had summoned him.

"Adult ......"

"I don't want to disturb your command. ”

Hemtar finally replied in a low voice, subtly revealing his posture. He knew the temperament of the Iron Knight, and he knew how to turn them into an advantage for himself. The summoned Paron seems to think that he is above ordinary demons, but as the embodiment of the demon lord, his status is far higher than that of any demon: "Roam the city as you wish...... It's just that you seem to be ignoring something. For example, a batzu lurking among mortals. ”

Receiving the summoner's reply, Pajon bowed his head respectfully, but when he set his eyes on the ground, which had most likely turned into a swamp of flesh, he found that his expectations had not happened.

Those abominable mortal spellcasters were teleported away a moment before the spears, chains, and heavy hooves arrived, leaving only the resentful abyssal heavy cavalry to trample in place.

"There's a Bad Butzu hidden among the mortals," Phaon repeated Hermtar's words to his men, his razor-like teeth clucking, "but it doesn't matter...... Flattening the city will always destroy the rabble. ”

Hearing this, the Iron Riders slapped their chests one after another, and responded to the leader. Their mouths also shouted, as if they wanted to express their impatience by shouting.

Paron, who was much larger than his peers, was tense on his hind legs, and he stood up, his front hooves falling heavily.

A shockwave traveled down the ground and in all directions, crushing everything that stood in its way.

In the hall of the bell tower, a small storm burst out in an instant. Unable to bear the pressure, the walls cracked and shattered, and it didn't take long for them to shatter in a "bang" and collapse.

Amazingly, the bell tower, which should have collapsed on the ground at this time, is still standing. It seems that without the support of the wall, it is nothing. Paron knew in his heart that the adult above his head needed a place to stay.

In addition to being more in awe of the Demon Lord's power, he also burned a desire to gain greater power, "as long as he can capture enough souls in the material plane, or bring extreme chaos and destruction...... It is also possible that I will be favored by the abyss. ”

Thinking about this, coupled with the fact that Hemtar had said before that he had no intention of interfering with his actions - presumably as long as it did not affect his plans, he could arbitrarily destroy it, and Pajon could no longer hold back his excitement.

"Go this way," his eyes glanced at the street outside the bell tower, Pajon brandished his long whip, and made a loud whip whistle in the air, and the long whip composed of flames suddenly turned into a huge decapitating giant sword, "form a dense charging formation, no need to turn, directly chisel through the city and level everything here, we will bring them a feast of destruction!"

......

The gloomy mercenaries sat at a table in the back row of the Sal Tavern on the other side.

Just a few blocks from Dock Street and the Grand Bazaar, the tavern is not upscale and is one of the stops for the vulgar sailors with little income or bad luck.

The lighting in this place is poor day and night, and the dim lighting makes the mediocre hostesses and the poor food look good at first glance.

Large quantities of coins passed through the docks and flowed into Beit from the large leather bags of merchants buying and selling goods or the small money bags of sailors and dock workers. Those coins first went to the shops scattered around the docks, and most of them stayed there. A small amount of money also went into the back streets and alleys, as well as the upscale or humble little hotels.

There is a faded sign in front of the Sal Gate, which depicts a red-haired woman with a plate of steaming oyster shells.

This tavern is one of the many dilapidated old buildings in the north-eastern part of Beit City. Over the years, with the development of Beit and the port, almost all the buildings that sit by the sea have been demolished and rebuilt, and only a few old buildings built by professional craftsmen have survived as landmarks.

The city's open-faced shops swept up most of the wealth, and in the back alleys there were nearly isolated merchants and tavern owners who barely made bills or paid taxes to make ends meet.

Their main source of customers – if not their only source – is unemployed sailors and dock workers.

The Sal Tavern, which is usually sparsely populated, is almost full today. Due to the long-standing feud between the two groups, the sailors kept their distance from the dock workers.

Sailors look down on dockers because they don't have the courage to go to sea, and dockers look down on sailors because they aren't really part of the neighborhood.

Today, however, the two groups are now surprisingly aligned, and they are both wary of the mercenaries who have been in the tavern for a long time.

"Hi brothers, we have to find the boss. ”

I took a sip of the light beer in the tin glass in front of me, and the faint taste was still sour, reminiscent of the moldy straw beds on a long-distance ship.

The person who spoke was an elderly mercenary wearing a half-length armor made of leather. With a broad face and incomplete teeth, he looked like a man who made a living by beating and killing—the scars on his face and arms were clear proof of this.

Such a person will make other people instinctively feel dangerous, but most of these mercenaries look like this. As a result, other drinkers involuntarily distance themselves from them.

In the past, mercenaries never hesitated to give each other an old punch full of "friendship" for those who dared to cast strange eyes on themselves, either because of self-esteem or simply because they wanted to have fun.

But now they are not in the mood to "have fun".

Not only because they had just exhausted the effort to swallow chunks of granite, charred potatoes, and unappetizing gravy, but also because they were now shy.

Otherwise, what else could there be?

After completing the escort mission, they originally planned to take advantage of the bulging wallets to go to those famous "pinned vaults" to have fun.

But until now, since last night they paid for the dinner, their head of the regiment has not shown up. This meant that the money that the mercenaries were going to use to fill their shriveled wallets was suddenly gone.

"I know where this shipment will be delivered," said another mercenary, looking at his companion with an inquiring look, "There may have been some mistakes, after all, the regimental commander has never delayed paying us...... Perhaps, he needs our help now. ”

Several mercenaries glanced at each other, nodded their heads, and prepared to get up and leave the Sal Tavern on the other side.

Just as the owner of the tavern was hesitating to remind the vicious guests that their last round of beer had not yet been paid, there was a sudden clamor of crying outside the tavern.

"Boom", "Boom", "Boom", ...... The specially trained mercenaries also recognized the sound of horses' hooves in the distance.

It's just that the sound of the horse's hooves is too heavy.