Cold blades, hot blood, choking smoke...... The chaotic battle swept through the entire wall of stars amid the bloodthirsty shouts, and the stench of blood in the billowing black smoke filled Edward's eyes and nose, as if it was a fire that lit dry wood, and his otherwise calm heartbeat began to accelerate sharply!

The sound of the blade slamming into the blade sent a flash of fire, and Edward's hands clenched a brand-new knight's sword, and the silver blade stabbed directly through the back of the enemy in front of him with a terrible scream!

The Dominic boy, who was a little younger than Edward, struggled non-stop, and the blood was still gushing out of his chest, and Edward, who was holding the hilt of his sword, twisted it directly, and his broken body was thrown out directly along the inertia, and smashed on the body of another militiaman, and the two miserable cries disappeared silently under the walls of the melee.

The bright blade slashed from in front of his eyes, and Edward's right hand slammed up almost instinctively, slashing into the arm that swung the knife, and the sound of the steel sword hitting the bones and screams came at the same time!

Seeing that the muscles on his arm were cut, the mercenary strong man exclaimed loudly, he didn't even want a shield, and wanted to dodge back, but he saw that the Turin knight with a pair of black eyes had raised the long sword again, and the whistling blade left a silver afterimage in front of him, and the severed body suddenly lightened, and he found that his head had flown into the air!

I really miss the gray long sword that Lady Angelica gave me, the corners of Edward's mouth curled up a little helplessly, and he glanced at the knight's sword in his hand, which was already full of crumbles - if it was his original saber, I am afraid that he would have been able to directly cut off the mercenary's arm just now.

Unfortunately, the sword was lost at Fort Clarion. Although Edward searched there several times later, he found nothing, and was secretly hidden as a trophy by a certain Purple Sail mercenary. He had no choice but to find a weapon left behind by a certain fallen knight.

But as long as you can kill, the weapon is not the most important thing, a confident smile once again raised from Edward's cheeks, sideways to dodge the war spear stabbed at the opposite side, suddenly twisted around and then raised the blade of the sword with his backhand, the wooden handle of the gun broke in response, Edward, who grabbed the broken gun, kicked the neck of the screaming spearman who fell to the ground, and walked towards the tower that was not far away.

Seeing Edward leaving, Sirrell Lightlane followed without saying a word, and there was an incomparably determined light in his equally dark eyes beneath his broken purple hair.

"Kill!" the herald roared as he shook his weapon and shield in his hand, his blood-soaked eyes staring at the black-haired knight and mercenary who seemed to be dying, and shouted unwillingly: "Rush with me to protect that black-haired Turin knight - charge, charge, Purple Sail mercenary soldiers!"

With a roar of hot blood pierced through the dust rolled up by the battle, the purple sail mercenaries like waves raised their shields and slammed over the enemy in front of them, holding sharp throwing spears in their backhands and piercing the opponent's chest, listening to the other party's mournful wail with scarlet eyes, roaring and charging on the city wall!

Heavy shields, sharp spears, and bright scimitars...... On the ancient walls of Bright Star City, this battle between the same Dominicans, the two armies with the same weapons and the same fighting style finally began to distinguish the advantages and disadvantages, and the stubborn militia of Bright Star City desperately pounced on the charging Zifan mercenaries, but the end was decapitated by heavy scimitars, or torn into a pool of flesh and blood in the forest of guns.

More and more Purple Sail mercenaries rushed up the city walls along the siege ladders, and the defenders caught in the melee retreated between pools of blood and corpses, and the walls and battlements that were originally covered with moss had been blackened by the burning flames, and the blood sprayed on them began to gradually solidify.

As the garrison of the city wall, an elderly mercenary held on to the battlement at the top of the tower, and at this time, he looked at the Zifan mercenary group under the city wall like a dead ash to break through the originally strong defensive line, and one after another the militia hundred-man team broke up, screaming and wailing, slaughtered by the enemy like a flock of sheep!

Although he knew that this wall could not be held for too long, he still did not expect that the other party had already attacked so quickly, and the carefully prepared trebuchet did not have the momentum to strike at the enemy at all, and the heavy infantry phalanx, which had been trained by himself for so long and was already very confident, could not even hold up for two or three quarters of an hour in front of the elite Zifan mercenaries!

"Shoot arrows, shoot arrows!" Although there was no hope, the old mercenary still had no intention of retreating, and his coughing voice was still shouting desperately: "Shoot these damned traitors, shoot them!"

"My lord, the people of Turin have rushed into the tower!" a centurion with a broken arm struggled up the stairs, panting and shouting loudly, his voice full of desolate hoarseness: "The soldiers are almost killed, my lord, let us flee!"

"Run, where do you want to escape?" the old mercenary glanced at the soldiers around him who were also full of fear, "Once they capture this place, half of the Bright Star City will be finished, not to mention that those Turin people are still attacking the northern city wall and port, and it will not be much better - we have nowhere to escape!"

The grieving old mercenary took up his weapon and shouted at the militiamen who were still struggling in fear: "It is better to die on the battlefield than to hide and be slaughtered like a brute, or to be captured and tortured as a captive, and then to die in the pit of unknown mine!"

"If you're not afraid of death, follow me!" Picking up his shield and throwing gun, the old mercenary shouted to the soldiers beside him: "Greet the Turinese below, they are all dead anyway, fight with them!"

"That's an honor, brave Garrison Officer. A voice with a leisurely tone came from under the stairs of the tower, and the old mercenary and his men, who had just been boiling with blood, trembled all at once, and stood motionless as if their legs were frozen, looking at the figure coming up with trembling eyes.

"Please forgive me for not being invited. Edward, who was panting slightly, walked up from the bottom of the stairs step by step with the corners of his mouth curled, wiping the bloodstained sword with a piece of already wet linen, and his dark gaze never took away from the old mercenary's body: "But I don't think you should mind, right?"

Before they could recover from the shock, there was another chaotic sound of footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, and groups of Purple Sail mercenaries rushed up the tower, all with blood stains on their bodies, and quickly surrounded the remnants who had been completely isolated, raising their shields and scimitars and clustering at Edward's side.

"Your Excellency Lord Edward Witwood. Still reluctant, the herald of the Zifan Mercenary Regiment still walked over, wiped the blood on his face, and looked up at this guy he was afraid and hated: "All the enemies in the tower have been cleared, the gate has been blocked, and the enemy's reinforcements will not be able to rush up for a while." ”

As he spoke, he also glanced at the remnants behind him, "When we kill all these enemies, the city wall will be ours!"

"Don't use that tone, we're not here to kill, we're here for 'justice.'" With a hint of amusement, Edward put his sword back into its sheath and walked over to the old mercenary.

"Ahhhh

"Poof!" Before he could take two steps, a pitch-black arrow pierced his head through his ear. Somewhat surprised, Edward turned his head sideways, and a expressionless Shirrell stood not far away, gently lowering the longbow in his hand.

Edward smiled and stood in front of the old mercenary with an extremely sincere expression, staring at the face that had been stunned and stretched out his right hand.

"Surrender, then. ”