Joan used to be a carpenter, but he always considered himself a true warrior. [For more exciting novels, please visit M]

In the impression of southerners, a real warrior should be tall and mighty, drink too much, and dare to copy a knife and cut people after drinking, which can be described as a warrior. But he knew very well that it was pure, and that a rookie who had the courage to kill people after drinking could be regarded as a soldier? Discipline, orders and prohibitions are the real standards of a warrior.

Joan enlisted in the army at the age of fifteen, followed her lord Lord Romus to fight in the north and south, and spent ten years accumulating military achievements and was promoted to a junior officer. When the Kingdom Guard was formed, he was selected by Lord Romus, who had become a prince, to become one of the commanders of the Iron Shield.

When the guards lined up in a neat formation and crossed the royal avenue to be inspected by the king, looking at the excited people and beautiful and enthusiastic girls on both sides of the road, Joan once had the feeling that "the peak of his life is just like this". To be able to serve as a commander in the country's most powerful army and to be supported by all the people is perhaps the highest honor of a warrior, right?

It's a pity that this fantasy of his was unceremoniously poured with a basin of cold water.

"Do you think that if you have participated in a few battles between lords, you will have the capital of pride?" his superior, the general in charge of the Iron Shield, pursed his lips and said disdainfully.

The general is a true veteran, and it is said that he once followed Lord Romus north and saw the armies of the northern lords. Usually in the perception of southerners, there is no difference between "going to the north" and "going to hell".

"In Count Kemal's demon legion, the officers who can command the troops are at least bronze rank powerhouses, and at your level, it's not bullshit to others. The general scoffed at Joan's pride.

"How can we compare to the warriors of Lord Kemal, who are the great lords of the north. Joan had also heard of the fierceness of the northerners, and was a little unimpressed by the general's analogy. People who are not in the same world in the first place, can there be any comparison?

"So you're an idiot!Count Kemal is our southern nobleman!" the general shook his head in hatred and said angrily, "When you have seen the real northern lord, you will know that these so-called warriors we have trained are just a joke. ”

Joan now finally knows that it's not just that they're a joke, but that Count Kemal is also a joke. He saw the true warriors of the North, and also the enemies for whom they fought.

The great horror penetrated into his bone marrow, making his hands and feet cold, and he could not feel the slightest warmth even when he was crowded with his comrades.

The sound of the weeping bone flute sounded abruptly in the dark night when she couldn't see her fingers, and Qiao An opened her eyes suddenly, feeling that cold sweat instantly soaked her back. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed the shield and iron spear he had placed beside him, gritted his trembling teeth and peeked out.

The phosphor fires burned in the distance, connecting like a long river.

He suddenly remembered the days before when he had been stripped of his trousers after being captured two days before, at least at that time he had only had to do hard labor. But now that the weapons and equipment are returned to them, it means that they must join the fight.

Joan wasn't afraid of death, but he didn't know what the hell he was fighting against, and as long as he was human, he couldn't avoid the fear of death, especially when death was standing opposite him. The solid shield and sharp spear in his hand did not give him the slightest confidence.

He looked around and saw that the faces of the others were similar. The dignified Kingdom Guards' ironclad shield guards were all lying on the defensive line regardless of their image at this time, and their suppressed gasps revealed the horror of the soldiers.

Only those warriors from the north of Isttalon, most of them stood on top of the line with their arms crossed, staring blankly at the army of the undead gathered in the distance.

"Boss...... Boss Joan, what is that?" a subordinate beside him couldn't help but whisper.

"Shut up and look again. Joan slapped the guy's helmet angrily, and in fact he couldn't figure out what the hell the undead were up to. Human fear often comes from the unknown, and the only ones who can sustain him to muster up courage are those northerners who seem to don't care.

The long, eerie sound of bone flutes echoed in the night sky, and the dead undead troops finally fluctuated. A bits of green phosphorus slowly rose in the darkness, revealing a huge white bone altar in the flames.

The cultists dressed in the robes of the Cursed Sect retreated to either side and bowed to the altar one after another. A lich armed with a staff of bones stood atop the altar, the soul fire burning in his eyes radiating a chilling aura of fear. He looked up at the defenses built by the humans in the distance, a disdainful smile on his face.

"Foolish mortals! I am a loyal servant of the Lord of Death, Archbishop of the Cursed Sect, Klein! I now command you in the name of the Lord of Death to lay down your arms and submit to the Lord of Death! Do not be fooled by the senseless vanity and stubbornness, before which everything will turn to dust!"

His creepy laughter echoed across the human line, but it didn't hear back for a long time.

There was neither impassioned rebuke nor wagging surrender on the human line, only eerie silence. The sight of the undead chattering and humans not saying a word is particularly ridiculous.

"Tricky ......" Klein didn't get the response he expected, and his face turned gloomy. He snorted coldly, waved his hand, and two Cursed Cultists stepped out of the shadows behind him, carrying a girl with a large tie on their shoulders to the altar.

"Since you stupid mortals are obsessed, let me show you the true power of the Lord of Death!" Klein chuckled, untied a bone dagger from his waist and held it in his hand, grabbing the girl's hair with the other hand, revealing her white neck.

"Jessica!"

When the girl showed her face, De Laar, who was lying on the defensive line and pretending to be dead, suddenly jumped up and shouted with red eyes: "Old dog, let go of my sister!"

"Master Delael, it turns out that you are still alive, this is really an unexpected surprise. Klein, who was about to slit the girl's throat, slowly turned his head with a surprised smile on his face. He nodded, "The tenacious vitality of the demon bloodline is indeed worthy of its name, and the Lord of Death greatly appreciates your family's talent and courage, if you swear allegiance to the Lord of Death now, then Miss Jessica will naturally not become a sacrifice." ”

"You think I'm going to believe your nonsense?" said Delare, gritting his teeth.

"What qualifications do you have to be deceived now, Master Delare?" the lich laughed.

"Old slut!" Delarele cursed and turned back to El beside him, "Do you have any way to save my sister?"

"Sometimes there are, but what qualifications do you have to do now?" said El, in a lichic tone.

"You're a slut too. De Lael spat and gritted his teeth and said, "Get my sister back, and I'll take my men and horses to work for you!

"Sign the Devil's Pact?" El asked tentatively.

"Do you really have a way?" Delare's eyes lit up, he was angry with El just now, but he didn't expect this guy to look confident.

"Your sister also has demonic blood, should be able to withstand ordinary damage, right?" El didn't answer his question, instead continuing to ask a seemingly unrelated question.

"My sister's talent is even stronger than mine, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to carry her up as a sacrifice......" Delare, taking a closer look at the girl who seemed to be in a coma, said with certainty, "She should have recovered, as long as she broke the seal and restrained the lich, she herself could escape." ”

De Laere said this with confidence, because after he had eaten and drunk enough, the injuries on his body had recovered to the fullest, and he was basically able to move normally. The tenacious vitality of the demon bloodline was simply breathtaking, and since he dared to say so, he must be sure.

On the other hand, it's impossible for the Cult of the Damned to get a dead man to sacrifice to the Lord of Death......

"It's unscrupulous that these dead people really chose to build an altar there, and it's so close to it. El looked at the Bone Altar in the distance and pouted, and smiled at Delare, "Do you have such a rule when you want to summon demonic power, at least choose a magic node?"

"Isn't that a matter of course? who can ...... without a mana node How do you know this?" said De Laere, who suddenly closed his mouth in the middle of his words, and the eyes that stared at El became strange.

"I just suddenly want to sigh that this primitive ritual has really not been innovative since ancient times. El shook his head and slowly pulled the dragon's tooth bow, but did not put an arrow on the bowstring.

"When I was building the defensive line, I did some tricks and tricks at that magic node over there just in case, but I didn't expect those dead people to use it directly without even looking at it. What should I say, pure and innocent?" El sighed with emotion, his fingers moved slightly, and the dragon's tooth bow let out a soft sound, and an invisible arrow shot out of his hand.

On the altar of bones, the lich, who had not received a response for a long time, lost his patience, he patted the face of the girl with his eyes closed, and sneered: "Miss Jessica, it seems that your brother does not love you as much as he says, then exchange your blood for the gift of the Lord of Death!"

He flicked his fingers, and the miserable green phosphorus fire above the altar rose into the sky, conjuring a huge white bone palm in midair, and the five fingers bent as if trying to grasp something.

The lich Klein laughed wildly, dragged the maiden by the hair to the altar, and grabbed the dagger and wiped it down her throat.

At this moment, the White Bone Altar exploded!

(Jiangsu.com)