"We're in the North!" Chang Chun raised his eyebrows angrily, and pointed his sword to the north: "In the further north, there are dead people every day, but we can't retreat, we can't retreat, we were born here, grew up here, this is our home, our land." ”

"Soldiers! Today we just met a small-scale demon assassin, are you afraid? Tomorrow, tomorrow, we may all die in battle, will you retreat? Look at your west, look behind you, look at your family, your people, and tell them that you can retreat? ”

"I can't."

Suddenly, a slightly shy and weak sentence came out, which in normal times even makes people unable to hear clearly, in this kind of scene, when there is a sound of a needle dropping and even someone can hear their own heartbeat, this sentence seems so tough.

But Chang Chun felt that it was not enough: "What did you say? ”

"I can't."

For the first time, there was only the hysterical screaming of the weak soldier.

Soon the second sound was the loose roar of more than 100 people.

And the third time was when everyone was screaming.

This is the military heart, which stems from the belief in protecting the family and country, even if it is temporarily dusty, but it still can't hide the blood flowing in their bodies.

On the gatehouse of the north gate of Xinji City, Mr. Storyteller and Wu Ming have already exceeded 100, but one is casually down, and where he can go down, while the other is serious and meticulous.

Of course, everything that happened in the barracks of the Xinji City Protector at the East Gate, the master and apprentice have always seen it.

Wuming was still whining, but there was no sound at all, just echoing the storyteller's state of mind, quiet.

The storyteller fell into another son, and said to himself: "This is the question I want to ask, and it is also a reminder to Lin Shaohua, and it is also to prepare for the next war, otherwise how can a group of soldiers who have not fought and shed blood be able to defend Xinji City under the attack of 10,000 bandits." Could it be that only one Lin Shaohua, a foreigner? ”

10,000 people? Wuming couldn't sit still in an instant, but he swayed left and right because he was trapped in the prison of the painting, he couldn't stand up, he wanted to speak and was silently imprisoned, and he wanted to overturn this ridiculous chess game, but he was really powerless, thinking that this game of chess was too heavy, so heavy that Wuming couldn't shake it in the slightest.

Of course, it can't be shaken in the slightest, because this game of chess is called rules, and it is the rules of Mr. Storyteller.

Although Wuming was powerless, Wuming still did not give up resistance, even if it was silent resistance.

If Wu Ming could speak, he would definitely scold all the words in his heart: What kind of joke are 10,000 people, there are only tens of thousands of people in Xinjicheng plus the surrounding towns? Is there one hundred thousand? How many people are there in that city guard, five thousand! It's still a bunch of baby soldiers who have never opened a meat game! Are you crazy about stinky storytellers? Or am I hallucinating?

Wuming turned his head to look at the north, the line of yellow sand was getting closer and closer, and after a long time, I am afraid that even the defenders of Xinji City can see it with the naked eye, and it will be a real disaster when that time comes.

Mr. Storyteller looked at Wuming's actions, and then also learned from Wuming to look to the north: "Actually, I have always wondered why the human race can withstand the attack of the demon race, in fact, no matter which clan stands in this position, it will definitely be defeated, there is no doubt about it." ”

When Wuming heard that this madman was still talking about those who had and didn't, he was not angry, but with his current ability, he could only stare at Mr. Storyteller. If vision could kill, Mr. Storyteller would have died hundreds of times by now.

Mr. Storyteller looked at Wu Ming's angry eyes, and it was regarded as his question, if there is a question that can be said, you can not say it, so I can only continue: "Ao, you said that there are Li Mu, Yuan Chonghuan, Qu Ling?" ”

Wu Ming almost ran out of gas when he heard it, so Lao Tzu asked.

Of course, Mr. Storyteller didn't care about this, so he had to answer for the diligent 'inquisitive' Wuming: "But so what, the devil poured the power of the whole clan south to detain the pass, with the power of one or a few people of the Terran race, even if the Terran army was all under its dispatch without any constraints, it was just a few victories, how could they compete with the general trend, they were just a few stones in the middle of the torrent of history." ”

The storyteller gently pinched a piece, threw it high with two fingers, and then let it fall and fall on the chessboard, let it bounce, and finally landed on the board, not moving.

"The human race is stronger than the demon race, and it is more prosperous than the hundred races, but it is just the word faith." The storyteller turned around and raised his hand and pointed to the East Gate Barracks: "Look at a small city, there are 5,000 ordinary soldiers, and the morale of the army is low, but just because of a sentence about the family and the country, it is an army with a high temperament. ”

Hearing this, Wuming lost his original anger, because what Mr. Storyteller said had attracted him.

In fact, this is also the question that Mr. Storyteller wants to ask, if you ask those high-ranking people in the ancient city of Liangzhu, the answer will be more beautiful than what Mr. Storyteller sees now, but it is definitely not the answer that Mr. Storyteller wants.

If you want to know about politics, ask him. Those who want to ask the rain are under the eaves.

So Mr. Storyteller chose to ask the people at the bottom, but fortunately Mr. Storyteller saw the answer he wanted to see.

"If it's a frontier army? If it's an army of captives? As long as someone leads, just one sentence, and in the blink of an eye, it is another hundred battles of iron army! And this kind of army, do you think they will lose? Will you be willing to be captured and enslaved if you lose? Just like the leaders of this new auspicious city, they may never be the people of the limelight, they can also be ordinary people, just because the belief in their hearts makes them unable to endure those confinements, and they want to break through and create everything in their dreams, this is faith. ”

The storyteller suddenly smiled, a little gloomy: "It is because of this that the king of people, Gao Yang Shaohao, personally dug out the backbone of Gao Yang Xiude and dedicated it to the big offering, this is the faith, so that the big offering will be returned." ”

Mr. Storyteller reached out and pressed it on Wuming's shoulder, and said in an eerie and low tone that Wuming had never heard from Mr. Storyteller's mouth, "Do you say horror? ”

At the moment when Mr. Storyteller touched Wuming, the painting was a prison, and the loud sound was lifted at the same time, and Wuming, who had regained his freedom, was like avoiding snakes and scorpions, and he was a hundred feet away in an instant, and Mr. Storyteller had never seen this state!!

Downstairs at the city gate, all the soldiers on duty guarding the city still performed their duties, and some of them were never aware of the overhead, and this was also within the rules of Mr. Storyteller.

The storyteller seemed to feel that his actions were immoral, and when he flicked his sleeves and took back the chessboard, he stood up and looked to the north.

He said softly: "And this belief has been sprouted and rooted in the heart of Chu Shi Shanhe, if one day, the fire of faith ignites the demon land, then who is the opponent of the demon clan in this world?" The peace that the Emperor Yuan Hall had worked so hard to maintain for thousands of years was bound to be broken. ”

Wu Ming cautiously took a few steps closer and put forward a hypothesis: "When the time comes, it will be killed by thunder and force?" ”

The storyteller shook his head and denied: "The seed of faith, once planted, will surely blossom into a dazzling flower, and even if you completely destroy the soil that nurtured it, the flame of faith will not be extinguished, but will burst out with greater power to overthrow the world it considers wrong." ”

Wuming became silent.

"There was one more than three thousand years ago, and then that seed was buried in Daming City, and once again in two thousand five hundred thousand years, fifteen years ago its wings were broken, and now again!"

Although Mr. Storyteller's words have been as flat as possible, the emotions in them still burst out unreservedly.

"As long as anyone has the possibility of being able to break the balance of the three thousand Dao states, the Emperor Yuan Hall will not allow this person to exist!"