When the boy opened his eyes, the sky had cleared, and from the iron doors and windows of the dungeon, through the warm morning light, reflected on him, as if bathed in a volcanic hot spring. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

"Is the hour coming?" muttered the young man, and he could faintly hear the loud drums coming from outside the dungeon, like a bonfire dance of an African tribe, and even obscure songs sung out, full of primitive tribal breath.

This morning is the time for the Wind Wolf Tribe to hold a ceremony to overkill the victims, and the focus of this ceremony is to sacrifice the bodies of him and Du Sen to rest their souls.

He looked sideways at the iron cage, at this time, Du Sen had already passed out from the pain, the injuries on his body were shocking, almost no skin was intact, and everywhere he looked, there were dried wounds and blood stains, and even some wounds, which had been infected and suppurated, and were swollen with nausea.

The young man couldn't bear to flash in his heart, although he had a conflict with him before, but he didn't have any hatred, but was avenged by the group of white-eyed wolves of the Wind Wolf Tribe, so that he had a similar sympathy for Du Sen as a fellow inmate.

"If Locke does this, create a chance for me to escape, and if I have any spare power, I'll take you out by the way. ”

Looking at the unconscious Du Sen, the young man promised that this was an unbreakable oath made by the Ring Spirit King, even if he himself, he would never allow it to be reversed, this is the words of Jiuding, and he will do what he says.

The boy waited for half an hour, and soon a member of the Wind Wolf Tribe came to the prison door, glanced at the unconscious Du Sen, and suddenly pointed at the young man.

"You, go and wake him up. He commanded with his chin upheld and domineering.

But the young man still sat upright and closed his eyes in meditation, as if he had not heard his words at all.

The clansman's eyes immediately widened, and he yelled: "Hey, I'm talking about you, why don't you wake up that dead pig quickly, believe it or not, Lao Tzu will beat you to death!"

The young man finally raised one eyelid, looked at the elven warrior, and said lightly: "I won't tell people to get up, I want to call you to go." ”

The man was so angry that he opened the door and jumped in, and stood in front of the young man, his muscles bulging violently, and he swung his fist and slammed his fist into his fragile head.

But before this blow came to the young man's three feet, his fist suddenly stopped in the air, as if it was resisted by a powerful force, so that his fist could not swing half an inch.

At the same time, an old voice sounded coldly outside the iron prison with a meaning that could not be ignored.

"This kid is the old man's fellow countryman, if you dare to touch a single hair of him, the old man will let you cry and laugh for three days and three nights!"

Hearing this, the clansman was shocked, but he had seen it in the clan, what happened to him after being inflicted that crying and laughing curse by the old human mage.

"It's like a fire ant encamped in your marrow, and you can't scream out in pain. This is the description of this spell by an elven warrior who was tormented by the curse of crying and laughing and suffering from depression.

The man hurriedly withdrew his hand, cold sweat continued to ooze from his forehead, and he looked down at the young man with fear, as if he had seen a humanoid mine, and he couldn't touch it.

"It's a dead man anyway!" he dropped a sentence fiercely, went to the iron cage to open the door, dragged Du Sen out and slapped him hard, and woke up the half-dead Du Sen alive.

The young man looked at him coldly, stood up consciously, helped Du Sen, who was still dazed, and slowly walked out of the dungeon under the watchful eye of the people.

When he passed by the old man's side, he whispered indifferently, "Thank you." ”

The old man straightened up a wrinkled face, looking at the young man who was gradually walking towards the tribe's bonfire, and his staggering steps made it impossible for him to associate the powerful man with great divine consciousness in Ruo'er's mouth as one person.

"Alas, the old man has no hope of returning home in this life. ”

After a long sigh, the old man pulled down the brim of his hat, covered his face and followed.

The funeral rites of the wind wolf tribe are not as grand as imagined, the so-called drum music is just the rhythm of a shabby animal skin drum, and the grotesque songs of the elf tribe sound quite ethereal and ethereal when they are far away, but when they get closer, they are like ghosts crying wolves.

The matriarch wore a sacrificial robe, held a deadwood scepter, her long supple golden hair rose high, and her beautiful and moving face was depicted with several white lines, revealing a strange charm under the temptation of that bumpy figure.

She looked down at the slain people covered under the shroud, and a tingle rose in her heart, and she looked sideways, and her eyes fell on Locke, whose hands were handcuffed in black iron.

As if feeling the matriarch's gaze, Locke met him, and a very brilliant smile appeared on his suffocating cheeks.

"Patriarch, do you have any orders?" Qing Yue's gentle voice was like a spring breeze, bringing in a burst of fragrant flowers that made her heart feel refreshed, and the pretty face of the female patriarch couldn't help but float two intoxicating reds.

This fifth-line magician, who is said to be extremely talented, asked to join the Wind Wolf Tribe yesterday uninvited, she knew that there might be something strange about this matter, but the strength of the other party was there, and it would be tyrannical to execute it indiscriminately, so she decided not to unlock the lock of this person's prison demon first, and when he watched his old master be burned at the stake, he was really not moved at all, and it would not hurt to be under his command again.

If he is sincere and obedient, it is not impossible for him to have an intersection between men and women with him in the future......

Thinking of this, the blush on her face became more and more intense and moving, and she snorted majestically, turned her head away and stopped looking at Locke, but saw the young man and Du Sen who came from the dragon, especially when she saw Du Sen who was dying, there was a strong hatred in her beautiful eyes, and her face was gloomy in an instant.

"Put them on the fire of judgment, sing the song of the wind wolf, sacrifice flesh and blood, and ask the god of the wind wolf to protect the dead of our people and ascend to heaven to rest in peace!"

Under the longitudinal command of the female patriarch, the sacrificial songs of the few clans who were singing changed from grotesque singing to bursts of mighty chanting, full of magnificent and sacred atmosphere.

The boy and Du Sen were also taken to the fire platform by two fierce wind wolf clansmen, facing the burning bonfire, the boy's expression was cold, but he did not look back at Locke, and was willing to wait for death to come.

Offstage, Yimi Ruoer, who was wrapped in a white dress, frowned on her slender eyebrows like willow leaves, and her beautiful cheeks were full of deep shame.

"Senior, you are innocent, but Ruo'er is not from the Wind Wolf clan and has no right to defend you, but despite this, ......"

In Yimi Ruoer's big eyes as bright as a glass bottle, the light of choice flashed, and Fang hesitated to settle down, and when she raised her head to look at the back of the young man, she showed her faith-like perseverance, and murmured: "Save your life, Ruo'er has to repay it!"

As soon as the words fell, she immediately focused on the stage with her hands, her hands made the same gesture as she had summoned the rock giant, her ruddy lips whispered, and a breath of sacrificial vitality quietly climbed out of her delicate body.

A few towering ancient trees around the basin suddenly trembled slightly, and under this trembling, the roots of the trees that had been entangled in the soil for an unknown number of years gradually grew out of the thick soil and spread to the basin.

At this moment, a hysterical roar, like a dilapidated bellows being forcefully pulled, suddenly resounded throughout the basin under the fire stand.

The matriarch looked back suddenly, but she couldn't help but be furious when she saw the appearance of Yimiruol casting a spell.

"Emiror, what do you want to do?!"

Yimiruel opened her beautiful eyes, looked at the matriarch, and was about to answer, when that terrifying low roar sounded around her again.

There were also screams of horror from other clansmen.

"Oh my God, the corpse, the corpse, the corpse!"

The spirits in distress, who were tightly covered by the shroud, stood up one after another, walked slowly and stiffly, and let out an inhuman roar from their mouths.

Although they were only one day away from death, their flesh was rotten and rotten, and the flesh inside had already revealed a dark green color like a dried corpse, like a monster to launch an indiscriminate attack on their fellow clans.

Looking at this scene like the fourth class, the corners of Locke's mouth, whose hands were handcuffed and imprisoned, set off an evil smile, and took out a bottle of dark green potion from his sleeve that was more turbid than muddy water, and swayed it vigorously at the corpse on the ground.

"Since you can't use the magic of the black witch, then Ben Wu simply contributed the evil spirit potion prepared by the teacher himself, and transformed all the dead in your tribe into an army of rotting corpses of Ben Wu, and the corpses danced wildly!"

One corpse after another stiffened up from under the shroud, although there were fierce elven warriors who were not afraid of death to resist, but their number was always limited, no matter how much they stopped, they could not make this group of stenching rotting corpses stagnate, those ordinary clansmen, still surrounded and torn by the missing rotting corpses, covered in flesh and blood.

Standing on the fire stand, the young man who was supporting Du Sen quietly listened to the screams and trampling of the elves behind him under the ravages of rotting corpses, and the look on his young and immature face was a cold and ruthless indifference.

The old man watching from the rear was stunned, and his withered old hand clenched the staff, and his mouth trembled slightly, not knowing whether it was because of fear or excitement.

The old man's voice murmured in a tremolo: "Living Dead Technique, Dark Mage, Elemental God, who is this kindred of mine?"