The phrase "a beautiful woman, but a thief" should actually be applied to the Whig. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info In all fairness, he is an extremely powerful fighter, and it is safe to take out Tory alone. But he has to play with others with his unremarkable scheming, just like a military general in the Three Kingdoms who is worth MAX does not go into battle to fight, but hides behind the battle to give advice.

The results of such self-indulgence are often tragic, and it is not until the defeat is irretrievable that the Whig is willing to put down his body and do a real battle with someone for the first time.

"Ha !!"

The Whig sprinted straight at the dagger, and the scepter smashed into the dagger's head with the force of the mountain splitting the earth. This staff is like a meteor falling to the ground and rushing to the rock, and an afterimage will be released, blasting out a storm, as long as it hits, it will inevitably be the end of the skull.

Not to mention the agility of the dagger, it was at least three or four times taller than Aluca, and even if the scepter was next to his head, he could escape in an instant. But this time he made a mistake, because the endless yellow sand summoned by the Whig when he made his hand obscured his vision, making him unable to accurately see the trajectory of the Whig's attack, and hesitated for a moment.

It was this moment of hesitation that seriously injured him.

The fatal wound was dodged, but the shoulder was smashed by the scepter, and the entire left arm lost sensation. The dagger cried out in pain and took the opportunity to leap back away from the Whig's range. At the same time, a magic called [Dark Enchantment] enveloped the entire area, and the figure of the dagger disappeared into the darkness.

The Dark Barrier is not simply to block out the light, but also to shield the six senses and five senses. The people outside couldn't see the scene inside the barrier at all, and after entering, they lost their ability to perceive and let others slaughter them. This is one of the dagger's killer features, and only a few extremely rare races are immune to its effects, and kobolds are clearly not included in it.

"Dark Barrier, isn't it......" Whig didn't rush in, but raised his scepter, "We've been fighting against each other for so long, do you think I don't know what you're capable of?"

"Since I can't get in, I'm going to destroy the whole area!" said him, and a huge scepter made of condensed yellow sand appeared in front of him, more than ten meters long and more than half a foot wide, on the same level as the scepter held by the Whig.

The muscles in the Whig's arms twitched and swept the scepter with a loud shout. The huge yellow sand scepter also moved, sweeping into the dark barrier, and suddenly there was a sound of tables and chairs being knocked away. From the other side of the darkness, the smashed tables and chairs flew out, but ...... There is no dagger in it.

"Where?" the Whig looked around nervously, and when an assassin disappears from your sight, you'd better be on your toes, or you'll be a ghost under the sword.

After more than ten seconds, the dagger still did not appear, and the dark barrier disappeared. The Whig scolded, "Cut...... After all, it's an assassin who doesn't enter the stream, so it's ......"

He walked towards the area covered by the dark enchantment, trying to find some traces of the dagger and deduce its whereabouts. It was the only thing he could do, and it was unwise to go into trouble with a fruit killer in the cafeteria, which had sunshine immortality.

Just as he crouched down to check the ground, a knife light lit up from behind him......

It turned out that the dagger did not run away, but used another magic [camouflage] to disguise himself as a deflated chair. If the Whig had turned away, he would have escaped. If the Whig came to check for clues, he would be able to take advantage of the situation and launch a fierce counterattack.

However...... The dagger was an inevitable blow, and I thought that even if I couldn't kill the Whig, I would be able to hit it hard. But at the same time as he shot, he was held by the Whig backhand.

Blood trickled down his fingers, and the Whig looked at the surprised dagger and smirked, "Hahaha...... Do you think I'm going to fall for you? Did I not do it for too long to make you Tories fools forget my horror?"

The crouch position was not suitable for a long-handled weapon like a scepter, and the Whig threw a straight punch. The dagger let go of his grip on the knife the moment he realized something was wrong, and tried to step back, but it was still too late.

The big fist of the casserole, have you ever seen it?

Humans certainly don't have fists the size of casseroles, but Whig's fists are that big......

The dagger's body was blasted into the air, bleeding from all seven orifices, and the bridge of his nose sank into his face like a collapsed bridge.

The Whig's attack didn't stop, he stood up and drove the scepter of yellow sand to smash the dagger into the floor tiles from top to bottom. Whether it is the yellow sand scepter or the floor tiles made by the secretary, they are countless times harder than the body of a dagger...... He's just a tough human being who is proficient in assassination and magic. Race determines his ceiling, and even if he is the strongest human in this world, he is not as good as those races who are born to fight.

After a set of combos, almost all the bones on the dagger's body were shattered, and blood bubbles were spitting out in his mouth, looking extremely miserable.

The Whig walked up to the dagger and sneered, "I told you a long time ago that it's not good to surrender? You stupid creatures always waste my time by chance...... After all, you are going to die, why don't you want to die happily!"

The dagger was speechless, and one of its eyes had been blown out, leaving the other eye swollen with only a slit. He stared at the Whig with these squinted eyes, the corners of his broken mouth rising into an unbridled smile, muttering something that no one could hear. Then, with the last bit of strength, he pulled a dagger from his waist and plunged it into the sole of Whig's foot.

The Whig was furious and scolded, "I don't know if I live or die!"

He pulled out the dagger and thrust it into the dagger's eye socket, ending the life of the dagger.

"Crazy!" the Whig slammed his scepter to the ground, angry, "they're crazy! Why did I end up like this, why!?"

"Because you...... Always think that they are nobler than other beings. The Fruit Killer appeared not far from the Whig, bloodied but intact, "But you're just like us...... It's just a bed bug that is in danger. ”

"How dare you...... How dare you speak to a king like this...... "The Whig was already out of breath.

"You're not a king anymore! you're just a lowly prisoner now...... You want to know why you're in this situation, because you can't help yourself!" The Fruit Killer raised a fruit knife and aimed it at his body, "You always think you're better than others, but you don't understand it...... What is a truly powerful ......?"

The fruit knife plunged into the fruit killer's own body, and a stream of sweet juice spurted out. The Whig couldn't dodge, and got a little on his right arm. The flesh stained with the juice was corroded in the blink of an eye, revealing the white bones beneath it.

"I can't help myself...... Hahahaha......" Whig was spurred on by the pain, "Then let's see who is not self-sufficient! Do you think you can be invincible in the sun? You are wrong! I have prepared a way to deal with you, I just don't want to waste energy on you. You shameless watermelon man, you dare to run through and seek your own death!"

As he spoke, the Whig raised the scepter above his head and spun it like a propeller. The wind swelled, and the yellow sand that obscured the sky flew out of the scepter, floating in the air to obscure the sunlight that filtered through the skylight.

The Whig was exhausted, but he looked smug and pointed to the fruit killer and asked, "Do you still dare to play self-harm now?"

"I told you...... You simply don't understand what really power is. The fruit killer did not waver in the slightest, "The strong will respect their opponents and will not be afraid of death." Want to kill someone...... You must first have the determination to die. ”

The knife fell, and another large splash of juice shot at the Whig. The Whig never imagined that the fruit killer would dare to open his body when he couldn't heal himself, and the flesh and blood on his face, legs, and chest were corroded clean when he was hit by this blow. Melted flesh dripped to the ground, emitting a foul stench.

A question echoed in the Whig's mind—why would anyone rather die together than back down...... As the Fruit Killer said, the Whigs have the strength of a strong man, but they have never had the mentality that a strong man should have. Always thinking that you can defeat the enemy without paying any price is not self-confidence, just foolishness, this kind of person will always live in his own world.

Whig's body was extensively corroded, and knowing that his fate was imminent, his grief and anger were indescribable, and he frantically rushed towards the fruit killer. In the process, he was hit several times. The Fruit Killer's injuries were only severer, and he tried to expand the wounded area of his body as much as possible with each knife, trying to inflict more damage on the Whigs. As long as you can get the Whig to breathe before you die, the sand barrier will disappear and the Fruit Killer will be able to return to its peak form when the sun falls again.

However, the difference in strength between the two is still too big...... After rushing in front of the Fruit Killer, the Whig simply swung down his staff and smashed the Fruit Killer to pieces without any tricks. As a result of this, the Whig himself was injured to the point of death by the sap that flew from the fruit killer's death.

The yellow sand was gone, and the Whig leaned against his scepter and crumbled.

As the so-called...... In the joke of the emperor's hegemony, it is better than a drunk in the world. Before he died, the Whig wanted nothing more than a jug of wine to numb his aching nerves and despair.

He still didn't understand why he had ended up like this? Wasn't he the superior who was destined to belong? Why did he die at the hands of two crazy criminals?

No one could answer these questions for him, because he would always have to accept the answers he liked.

In the hazy vision of the Whigs, a burly figure appeared at the south door of the cafeteria. That figure was full of demonic energy, only the height of an ordinary human, but it seemed to have the power of heaven and earth, and every move carried a crazy aura. The Whig only felt like a feeble child in front of Him.

"You ...... Gotta give it to me...... Funeral ......"

The Whig left these last words with resentment, and closed his eyes.