Behind the horses were twenty or so staggering men, who looked like ordinary peasants, dressed in coarse cloth and short shirts, and their faces were gray and shivering. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

The Templars took them to the ground and put their swords against their necks. The heat emitted by the arrows scorched their stiff skin and rolled it up.

The former prime minister walked up to the peasants in three or two steps, staring at them with blood-red eyes.

Becky, the commander of the Sanctuary Army, walked slowly, carefully examining their hands and clothes. Long-term outdoor work has made these people's skin darker than ordinary people, their faces are very prominent, and their hands are full of green tendons.

"Who are you, why are you in the jungle?" Becky stood at a distance, letting a mage interrogate him.

"We ...... It's the farmer of Iron Mountain...... Late summer ...... Come out hunting......" replied a white-haired old man tremblingly, for his head was pressed against the ground, so people could not see his face clearly.

"See what just happened, have you seen anyone else?" asked the mage calmly.

"God bless, there is no ...... No...... Nothing was seen, nothing was heard...... "The farmer's head shook like a brass drum."

"I heard that a group of people went deep into the mountains, how many people were there, and in which direction did they go?" the mage continued.

"No...... We only saw one...... The big boar didn't see a single figure. The farmer spoke more slurredly.

Elio approached him and picked up the old man, finding that his leg was wounded, and that a large sharp slant had stained his trouser leg to the base red with blood, and his face was as yellow as a wax figure from the loss of blood.

"Old man, we are the cavalry of the Empire, and these are devout acolytes. Elio slowed his tone.

"Okay, let's ...... Just ordinary people...... I'm hurt...... Need treatment ......" The old man gasped, his voice was weak, and his eyes were cloudy.

Elio seemed to relax, his green eyes narrowing slightly, looking the ordinary peasant up and down.

Then he raised the eagle vulture, showed its blade, aimed it at the old man's throat, and slashed it sideways. Blood spurted from the veins in the old man's neck, staining the red-silver blade and dripping from the wet blade.

The old man's eyes were still open, yellow, and his lips were slightly open, but there was no horror to be seen, more like a smile—a smile of revenge. His skull was stuck to his neck with only a layer of skin, and with a slight push, his blood-spurting body collapsed to the ground, and his head was weirdly tilted forward, staring at the crowd around him.

"He's lying. ”

"This guy's leg was cut by a sword. Elio's green eyes were cold, and his voice was hoarse like rusty iron. "The dead scout brought a sword. ”

"Interrogated one by one, the rest tied to a tree, cut off legs and hands, and let the smell of blood attract wild wolves. The Prime Minister ordered expressionlessly.

Becky turned his head sideways and smiled sarcastically, "Looks like you can do the work of the jury too." ”

"You never want to get the truth out of these filthy guys without the most brutal methods. Elio paced back and forth, clearly not free from his anxiety.

Lieutenant Coach Cassel Duna observed the kneeling peasants one by one, and when he walked up to the last man, he suddenly stopped and lifted the man's short hair so that she raised her face.

"It's a woman, it's pretty and beautiful. Cassel reminded.

"Strip her clothes and* her in front of these guys. ”

"Master Mage, we respect you, you can let your team go first. The Prime Minister withdrew the eagle from its scabbard and turned to make an inviting gesture to Becky.

Becky shook his head, he didn't pity the peasant girl, although when she heard the words of the former prime minister, her eyes were as sharp as a blade, and she wanted to cut off the flesh of the people around her piece by piece. But for him, the lives of ordinary people are nothing more than the dust of this world. He felt uncomfortable only because, these mortal habits, were so savage.

He was contemptuous of the Imperial cavalry.

Then the short-haired girl was thrown by the fire like a pink sausage, and first the high-ranking adjutants untied their trouser belts, and three or four people rushed up to her, smearing her with white mucus.

The girl didn't say a word, struggled desperately, and in a panic, she actually scratched a man's thigh. This provoked their outrage, and the man drew his dagger, pulling a long scratch from her back to her tun. The red blood excites the males even more, and they wriggle violently as they pull out jumbled lines across the snow-white canvas with their short blades.

After taking turns like this more than ten times, the girl was already motionless. There was not a single thing left intact on her body, except for scratches and numerous bruises and bruises. She was oozing blood, no trace of white skin could be seen, and her brown eyes were open like a dying elk, unfocused, covered with a layer of transparent moisture.

The soldiers vented their fears on her, then looked at the motionless lump of flesh on the ground, raised their long swords and cleanly chopped off her hands and legs.

"Bitch#子, slut!" the people spat on her as they cut the flesh, and though they didn't believe that the horrible clay figurines were made by ordinary farmers, the weaker ones were the best tools to vent their anger.

The men who were walking with the girls turned their heads away, but there was no more cry for mercy, their eyes seemed to be about to erupt into flames, but they were held down by their heads, hands, calves, and backs, and they could not move.

Elio stood in front of them, his face washed with water, his armor rinsed clean, and he regained his tall and heroic form.

He ordered in a low voice, "Drop the knife." ”

The soldiers raised their swords in perfect accord, the Arella steel was so sharp that the limbs fell to the ground as the sound of bones breaking, while others tied their wounds with belts and hemp ropes to prevent them from dying of premature blood loss.

To the surprise of the Imperial cavalry, however, none of the captives cried out, but only frowned, their gums and tongues were bitten and bloody, and they endured the punishment in silence, allowing themselves to be tied to a tree not far from the army.

When they looked into their eyes, the cavalrymen shuddered—all brown and black, near-transparent eyeballs that shone like blades, like the white ghouls of the legendary forest. It seems that it is not these silent farmers who are being bound, but Shi * #暴的军人.

"They're greasy. One of the soldiers whispered.

"Maybe it's their spells. The other timid couldn't help but chatter his teeth.

"No kidding, aren't they tied up like bugs, and if they unleashed those horrible monsters, why don't they kill us. A soldier next to him tried to divert the subject, but the more he talked, the more frightened he became.