The roaring lightning tore the heavens and the earth into a miserable white, and the waterfall-like torrential rain washed over and over again like ink, covering everything in the endless darkness. No matter how boiling the flame is, how hot the hot blood is, it will be destined to be cooled......

But at least for now, the "fire" that was still burning in the square was still not extinguished, roaring, boiling, burning, and then rushing towards the "rebels" who were exactly like them, and who once regarded them as siblings!

Rushing to the front, the battle flag held high by Green Turn, riding a war horse, and the blazing flaming goshawk burned his last life, swooping into the raging waves that ushered towards him.

"Long live the king, God bless Turin - !!!"

The remaining two hundred or so garrison soldiers followed the battle flag—centurions, spearmen, and guardsmen...... The title was meaningless, and with a roar of rage, he raised his mangled weapon and roared towards his enemies, and the flaming goshawk spread its wings and stabbed into the outnumbered rebel army like a sharp knife!

No one dared to stop the bright red banner, and it spread out to the left and right like ice water melted by the flames, and blood splattered everywhere, rampage, and tore a big gap in the Chinese army directly, and there was no intention of stopping at all, and the battle flag held high became a sharp cavalry spear, and did not care about the surrounding enemies at all, and went straight forward.

His target was not here, and those eyes burning with "anger", who had been staring at the man at the back of the rebels from beginning to end, never left.

His goal was himself?!, Captain Anderson, was stunned, and then utterly frightened and terrified - this former commander. He wants to kill himself?!

The flaming goshawk banner that was bright in the rain became the target of all the guards. Roaring loudly and waving the weapon in his hand. Running wildly and following closely behind the flag, even though he was covered in blood, he still rushed forward regardless of it, as if he was a fanatic, completely losing his mind.

There were fewer and fewer brothers beside him, and the spears and shields in their hands became heavier and heavier, but no one stopped and charged. Roaring loudly and heartbreakingly, they rushed forward - they had gone mad!

From the moment of the charge, none of them planned to go back.

"Stop him, stop him!" Anderson, who was terrified, no longer dared to look at the cold eyes of Green Turn, and was so frightened that he could not even finish his words: "No, kill him, kill him, kill him! kill him!"

"But, but...... That's Lord Greene Turn, how can we do it to the commander?" several young noble officers beside him hesitated: "We are only here to persuade His Majesty to change his mind, not ......"

"If you don't kill him, we'll all die here!" Fear completely overwhelmed Anderson's sanity, and he grabbed the officer by the collar and roared loudly, his trembling eyes filled with hysteria, "Now kill him for me, do you hear you—spearmen." Spearmen ready!"

Loud trumpets were sounded one after another, and the rebel front, which had just been in disarray, began to move from the rear. The formation shrank to the sides, and the panicked soldiers also leaned close to each other to erect a shield wall, and rows of spears were erected like a forest, aiming at the still charging garrison soldiers.

Roaring and severing the rebel's arm, a young soldier with a broadsword had just stepped forward when he was stabbed through the chest with a spear stabbed in front of him, the cold tip of the spear smashed his ribs, tearing his lung lobes into a pile of rotten flesh, and he couldn't even scream, scarlet blood spurted out of his mouth, and he fell into the torrential rain with his eyes open.

The last scene he saw was the roaring charge of Green Turn, holding the battle flag aloft......

The flames were extinguished, the wings of the goshawk fell one after another, and the roaring Green Turn, who was directly thrown off his horse, completely disappeared from everyone's view.

The battle was over, and the square was littered with corpses, entangled and hideous...... Many of them were still in their pre-death state, as the torrential rain of a waterfall washed away the blood on the ground, but the bricks and stones were still red—only the section near the staircase was the only white in the whole square, drawing a semicircle in front of the blood-red staircase.

Until the moment before the annihilation of the garrison legion, not a single rebel soldier stepped on the stairs!

Won, but not a single rebel was cheering loudly, the rain of grief was pouring down their cheeks, and everyone was clenching their teeth.

They killed their brothers, they killed their commanders with their own hands!

Advance...... I don't know which of the flag bearers shouted first, so small that only he could hear it, and then everyone began to step up the stairs in front of the palace gate.

There were no fanatical cheers, no roars that resounded through the sky, there was silence like a group of walking corpses and cultivators, stepping on the white stairs step by step, and even the head of the Anderson Banner, who was walking in the front, did not continue to recite the poems on the parchment, and walked step by step with his head down.

On the walls of the palace, the palace guards who had finally assembled were already ready, and they were also silently waiting for orders.

Ninety, eighty, sixty...... The commander of the imperial guard who was standing in place finally waved the battle flag in his hand expressionlessly, and the palace guards, who were already full of anger, couldn't wait to shoot the arrows in their hands!

The sound of bowstrings snapping and tearing through the air shrieked in the air, and the arrows in the rainstorm rose from above the palace like a slowly emerging dark cloud, and the sound became more and more dense, and the black rain of arrows even covered the entire sky.

For a moment, the rebel soldiers on the stairs didn't even feel the rain falling on them.

The stormy arrows fell on the stairs incessantly, and the rebel soldiers were shot alive, and the people behind kept moving forward—not a single one raised their shields to cover themselves, and no one turned away, screaming and falling on the bloodied staircase.

One by one, they fell, screaming one after another, and the corpses piled up on the stairs, and the endless blood flowed down from the top stairs to the bottom like a stream, and the soldiers behind stepped on the corpses of the people in front of them and walked upward, as if they were alive for this purpose.

The arrows that didn't stop all the time were all concentrated on this narrow staircase, the arms of the archers were already sore, the fingers of the bow had already been blurred by the flesh and blood of the bowstring wounds, and the arrows in their hands had already poured out, and no one even knew how many arrows they had shot!

By the time the last palace guard was still pulling the bowstring, he found that he had no arrows, and more than 2,000 corpses had been piled up on this narrow staircase!

And on the pile of bones stood a man - his chest and shoulders were full of arrows, but none of them hit the vital point, trembling step by step, staggering forward on the path that had already filled the staircase into a "gentle slope", but his eyes did not take his eyes off the gate of the palace for a moment.

After a full quarter of an hour, after walking these short steps, he walked for a quarter of an hour, and the head of the Anderson Banner finally stood on the hill of Marchelus, in front of the gate of the palace of Horace Marcherus.

"Poof!" Anderson, who was physically exhausted, knelt in front of the closed door, tried to straighten his waist, opened his eyes, but saw that the palace door was open, and the trembling corners of his mouth kept vomiting blood, but he was still excited and excited.

Behind the gate was Anson Marcherus, dressed in military uniform. The little prince slowly raised his sword, and there was still a trace of anger in his cold eyes: "If you have any last words, say it quickly, this is the last mercy that the Markaeus family has bestowed on you." ”

"God bless Turin......" Anderson, who was covered in blood, laughed heartbreakingly and looked up at the throne hall in the distance: "God bless Turin-!!!"

The blade of the sword fell, and the head was in a different place. (To be continued.) )

PS: kuailekuaile / Sredgmir, Shadow of the Earth, Chess Ink, etc., etc...... Thank you all for your support, your subscriptions, tips, and monthly passes are all my motivation!