By the time the reinforcements arrived outside the village, the battle was over, and from a distance, several thatched huts in the village were burning, billowing black smoke into the sky, and the surviving villagers were fighting the fires, and it seemed that the allies had successfully defended their hometown.

(No cheering crowds, no celebrations of victory, just ruin, isn't this a good sign, a pyrrhic victory?) Or did some other misfortune happen? Dali thought.

He rode his war horse and walked at the front of the cavalry ranks, constantly observing the situation around him, and the interpreter beside him, the little lark, looked very anxious, and many of the victims were people she knew.

Corpse...... Many corpses were stacked on the side of the road, and the difference between camps could be seen from the tattoos, with the red mountain eagle painted on the body being their own people, and the black viper painted on the warriors of rival tribes.

The battle between these natives was still quite primitive and savage, spears wrapped in animal skins pierced their bodies and nailed people to trees alive, sharp axes split heads in half, slimy brain tissue splattered all around, and the optic nerve connected to the eyeballs, shivering and swaying in the wind.

Some of the corpses were covered in colorful arrows, resembling a colorful hedgehog, and the Aboriginal weapons were very deadly, but many more died from gunfire, which shows the efficiency of modern weapons.

Poigni dismounted and inspected several corpses: "Many of the intruders were killed by firearms, and it seems that we have given our allies' weapons to use." ”

Dali became worried: "If you look closely, the people of the rival tribes are also armed with flintlock muskets. ”

He picked up a blood-stained rifle from the corpse and examined the details on it: "This is the 1701 modified standard rifle of the Sylvinian Empire, it seems that they have armed this 'Black Viper' tribe and instigated them to attack the villages of our ally tribes. ”

As the crowd entered the village, more corpses piled up on the road, and it seemed that the invaders had invaded the village and engaged in a bloody battle with the defenders in the village.

There were arrows stuck in the walls of the huts, the tents were riddled with bullet holes, and there was blood splattered everywhere, not only the corpses of soldiers, but also old men...... Child...... Even pregnant women are lying on the ground, and the relatives of the deceased are weeping sadly.

Seeing her tribe in such a miserable state, the little lark was very sad, and the girl's tears rolled down, and she almost fainted, and almost fell off her horse, but General Puigni hurriedly helped her.

"The chief of Valstad...... Savior, you are here......" An old woman with a wrinkled face recognized Dalí's identity, carrying the body of her granddaughter in her arms, and despite such a blow, she remembered to greet the benefactor of the tribe, and the little lark immediately translated her into the lingua franca.

"I'm sorry...... I'm late......" Dali took off his military hat and expressed his condolences to the old woman.

A mortally wounded tribal warrior crawled up with a spear, covered his stomach with his other hand, gritted his teeth and said, "It doesn't matter...... Our Red Mountain Eagle Tribe...... The caste is strong, the mother of the earth cares for us, and these robbers dare to invade, and they are really self-defeating. In the face of such a tragic situation, the translator's words also carried a crying tone.

Powani saw something slimy coming out of the tribesman's fingers: "Oh my God, this man's intestines are coming out!" Medic! Medic! Come here!"

The little lark jumped off his horse, grabbed a tribal villager who was carrying the corpse, and asked tremblingly, "Tell me quickly, is my father okay?" ”

"Oh...... Little lark, you are back, the chief and the elders are all right, they are doing a thanksgiving ceremony at the sacred tree, and the druids are thanking Mother Earth for our victory. ”

Hearing that her father was fine, the girl breathed a sigh of relief, and her nervousness eased, and she translated the situation to Dali.

"Let's go to your father and give me your hand." As he spoke, Dali clenched his trembling little hands tightly and walked in the direction of the sacred tree in the center of the village.

It is a huge cedar tree, more than 50 meters tall and about 9 meters in diameter, and Dalí speculates that the tree is more than 500 years old.

Three druids were dancing a mysterious, primitive dance under the tree, which was not in line with the rules of the natives, and it seemed that the other four druids had been killed in the battle, the chieftain and elder were kneeling next to the roots, and there was a large pile of flesh and blood piled up in the open space beside it.

Poinny asked, "Little lark, what are those things?" ”

The girl whispered, "Shhh Be quiet, don't make loud noises during the thanksgiving ceremony, those things are the scalp of the enemy, the trophies of our warriors. ”

"Oh my God! You are not mistaken! ”

"Yes, it's the scalp, which is exquisite, and cannot be taken from the dead, and the warriors all carry special skinning knives, and they must cut off the whole scalp from the head of the living enemy, and while it is fresh and not yet rotten, these scalps are offered to the mother of the earth as a precious tribute, you see, the pile next to it is the ears and noses of the enemy, which is not a very good tribute, and it is much inferior to the scalp."

"E......" looked at these primitive and barbaric, blood-drenched tributes, and Poigni couldn't accept it, so he didn't ask anymore.

"That's not right...... What's ......" The little lark looked a little panicked, her big eyes flickering, looking for something in the crowd, "The rest of the family are ...... But where is my brother? Why didn't he attend the ceremony? ”

Dalí knew that Little Lark had several younger brothers, but only one elder brother, the hero of the Red Mountain Eagle Tribe, who hunted a huge gray wolf alone at the age of 9, and thus received the name of 'Gray Wolf Slayer', and became extremely strong and agile as an adult, and had a clever brain, the strongest warrior in the tribe, and the heir to the chief.

"Don't worry, maybe your brother has gone after the enemy with his warriors." Dali squeezed the girl's hand and comforted.

The tedious ritual was finally over, and the druids lay down to rest in their place, and the little lark hurried towards the chief.

"Daddy!" The girl cried out anxiously, and the chief opened his arms and took his daughter in his arms. "Good daughter...... Thankfully, you weren't in the village and escaped......"

"Where's my brother?"

His daughter's question seemed to have triggered an earthquake in the old chief's heart, and his face was extremely bad, and he slowly let go of his arms and put his daughter back on the ground.

"What's going on?" Da asked in the native language, with his strong brain power, he had actually mastered the language for a long time, but this ancient indigenous language was obscure and difficult to master, so in order to prevent mistakes, he still had to bring an interpreter.

"Savior...... You're coming," the old chief hurriedly saluted.

"No need to be polite! Tell me, what's wrong with your son, the Gray Wolf Slayer? ”

"Hey...... He's ...... It has already flown into the sky with the soul of the mountain eagle. ”

"Ahh No! The girl yelled, collapsed to the ground, grabbed her father's ankle and wept.

The strongest warrior and heir to the tribe fell, and Dali bowed his head, patted the old chieftain on the back, and hugged him.

"Please mourn."

The crowd came to the body of the warrior, and the chief's eldest son, the "Gray Wolf Slayer", lay quietly on a pile of flower petals.

Dalí took a deep breath as he leaned down to salute the tribe's number one warrior.

(It's terrible.) ）

The Gray Wolf Killer's solid muscles still looked fierce, he had been shot twice in the liver, an arrow in his arm, his skull had been smashed by an obsidian warhammer, the blood in his body had almost dried up, and his brown skin had turned a little pale.

One can easily tell that the "Gray Wolf Killer" fought to the death, as he clutched an enemy's ear in his broken fingernails and bit fragments of enemy skin in his teeth.

The little lark pounced on his brother's cold body, tears fell on the skin of his relatives, and his soft little hands touched his brother's solid chest, but he could no longer find a trace of warmth, and he could not hear a heartbeat. The young man was a strong warrior, but he was very gentle with his family and people, and especially loved this sweet-looking little girl.

"Rest ......in peace, honorable warrior," Dali took a bouquet of wildflowers handed over by the villagers and placed it next to the young man's body.

"I'll avenge you, Gray Wolf Slayer, we're brothers fighting side by side, whether it's the Black Viper Tribe, or the Sylvinian Colonial Army, they'll pay for it, I swear!" ”