Nearly half of Stick's warriors didn't show up, but since the news of his death was passed out in time by the fleeing cavalry, and the fire dragon that was winding from the direction of the city could be seen from a distance, it was unlikely that the remnants of his men would continue to attack.

After all, the more than eighty knights led by Stitch himself were close to annihilation, and the remaining captains brought less than a hundred knights over to die.

Richard began to walk around the camp, assigning tasks as he did: "Clean up the battlefield!" heal the wounded, gather all the prisoners together, drag the corpses, gather the horses, and ......"

A qiē is well organized, the number of battlefields is also counted, a total of prisoners, more than 50 intact war horses, 11 escaped, and more than 60 killed. Richard lost three soldiers and five orcs, and a dozen others were wounded. There is quicksand, as long as it is not killed on the spot, or it is disabled with broken hands and feet, it can be rescued and restored to combat effectiveness.

None of the magic contractors, who are the core combat forces, participate in the work of cleaning up the battlefield, but rest and treat on the spot to restore their combat strength. Not only do you need to guard against a second wave of attacks in the city, but you also have to defend against the surrounding camps.

There weren't any good birds in those camps, and there were a lot of people who wanted to pick up the bargains. It's just that Richard has just won almost overwhelmingly, and the surrounding camps don't know the details of Richard, so they don't know how much interest they can plot for the time being. After watching the battle just now, I have to think about whether I can gnaw this hard bone.

"Master, the corpses have all been searched, what are you going to do?" a foot knight came over to ask for instructions.

Richard groaned for a moment and said, "Ordinary soldiers are all dressed on stakes and erected next to the camp! As for Stitch...... Sandru!"

"What do you command?" asked the necromancer, who was busy sending the wounded Black Warrior into the summoning circle, without raising his head.

"I have an important use for Stitch's body, isn't it a problem to dry it on a stake for a few days?"

Sandru was taken aback, and then said helplessly: "If you have done it in advance, you can still be transformed into a skeleton warrior." However, the strength will be two levels lower than that of the Black Warrior. If I give me his body now, maybe I might be able to summon a Death Knight out. To be honest, his reaction and expression to Richard's words were barely recognizable as a necromancer.

Richard, who had already seen the Black Knight's combat prowess, now didn't have too many illusions about the Death Knight. So when he saw Sandru send the Black Knight back to the summoning plane, he immediately said, "You have thirty minutes to dispose of Stitch's body, but you are not allowed to mess with his face." ”

Sandru's so-called treatment is actually to extract the remnant soul fragments from them and infuse them with death energy to maintain the corpse's strength during life. It only took a few minutes for the necromancer to complete the processing.

So half an hour later, in the open space outside Richard's camp, dozens of wooden stakes were erected, and each stake nailed a corpse stripped of its armor. The pillar in the center, which was three times as tall as the others, hung Stitch. Around the clearing, dozens of torches were planted to illuminate Stitch and his men. Richard still took care of the necromancer's needs, or else he was going to cut off the hands and feet of Stitch's corpse and hang it again.

Under the cover of night, I don't know how many pairs of eyes saw this terrifying scene.

The camp was silent, and the large number of torches that had gathered in the city gradually dispersed, and there was no follow-up.

"I just want these guys to see what is going on with those who want to kill me!" said Richard, who was looking at the city from afar, and then he waved his hand and said, "It looks like it's going to be okay tonight, sleep!"

Richard went into his tent and rested. Gangde stood in an open space, half naked, washing his wounds with a bucket of water. The muscles are strong and powerful, and the magic pattern on the right chest and shoulder is full of power.

When Richard returned to the tent, Gangde stroked his chin and said thoughtfully, "The boss is getting more and more ferocious!"

The elven poet came over at some point, nodded approvingly, and then said with deep feeling, in an almost lyrical tone: "Behind each of the murderous leaders, there are at least two murderous women. ”

Gangde nodded vigorously: "This makes some sense!

"Me!"

The elven poet's words made Gangde look disappointed, if it was said by a very famous person in history, it was a bit philosophical, and the elven poet's own words were inevitably a little too convincing. But the thought in his huge head suddenly turned, "Two murderous women...... Did you provoke the splash and quicksand?"

Oraar's face immediately turned a little ugly. Gonde's gaze shifted, not curious, sarcastic, or gloating, but deeply sympathetic.

"Which one?" asked Gonde. He didn't believe that the elven poet and the two women dared to provoke, and if he did, he would obviously not be standing here intact now.

Oral hesitated for a long time before saying, "...... Spray. ”

Gangde shrugged his shoulders and said, "Why don't you look for quicksand?"

"The splash seemed to mean something to me, and quicksand apparently didn't. Besides, if the temptation splash is hurt at most, she won't kill me. But quicksand...... If she wants to kill me, there seem to be many ways. ”

"A little clever!" Gonde praised, then hooked Oral over, lowered his voice and asked, "How did you 'provoke' the splash, tell me more details!"

One of Gangde's thick arms was as thick as two of the elven poet's, and his strength was at least three or four times that of the elven poet. In the steely arms, Oral was almost out of breath, he understood this naked threat, if he didn't say it, Gangde would definitely not be polite, and he ran to Gangde, in fact, he also wanted to find someone to confide in the bitterness and depression in his heart.

“...... I touched my buttocks......" Oral squeezed the sentence out of his throat.

"Did you touch your ass?" Gonde's eyes were very bright and full of anticipation.

Unfortunately, the elven poet still disappointed Gonde, even if the disappointment was expected.

"Actually, I didn't touch it, just when my finger touched a little, I ......" Although it is only a small and insignificant gain, it still makes the elf poet reminisce.

"And then?" asked Gonde expectantly, more sympathetically.

"And then ......," said the elven poet, smiling, "and then I knew the true use of her steel spine." ”

Gangde laughed, his eyes were like electricity, swept under the elven poet's body, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Knowing the purpose of the steel spine, you can still stand here tonight, and your combat power is not weak, have you secretly looked for Miss Quicksand?"

Oral involuntarily trembled slightly, nodded, and then said in an extremely heavy tone: "At that time, I was so injured that I could barely walk, if I wanted not to be discovered by my master, and not to leave any trouble, I had to go to Miss Quicksand." But...... For the whole night, she only treated me for minor injuries!"

The corners of Gangde's eyes couldn't help but jump a few times.

The principle of the healing techniques is similar, using guò divine power to speed up wound healing, but the effect is different. The same is true for treating minor wounds, allowing the wound to grow faster and heal faster. It's just that the process is often more painful. In the plane of advocating war and violence, injury is the hallmark of a man, and enduring pain is the basic of a man. Therefore, no qualified warrior will cry out for pain when he is treated by divine magic, and he will grit his teeth and endure it.

It's just that Olaar's injury is definitely enough to be treated with strong strength, but quicksand is consistently used to treat minor injuries. In this way, it would take at least twenty or thirty minor injuries to heal, and the duration of the healing time was several hours, and while the magic continued to take effect, Oraar's pain was magnified exponentially due to the wriggling of the flesh and blood of the wound. And the elven poet wasn't sure if quicksand had secretly blessed him with some kind of magic that could enhance his perception during the healing process.

Oral watched Richard and Quicksand interrogate the prisoners, and shuddered at the thought of Quicksand's silent treatment of minor injuries on the prisoners.

Gangde coughed, patted Orar on the shoulder, and said sympathetically, "You are frightened!"

"It's not as simple as being frightened! you don't understand that feeling!" the elven poet suddenly became excited.

"Okay, okay, for the sake of your plight, I'll give you another piece of advice, don't think too much about the splash. Gonde said.

"Splash?" Oral was stunned, in his eyes, the girl acted on strength and instinct.

"Think about it, why would the splash make your finger touch her? If she didn't mean to, you wouldn't have the slightest chance. Even if you have ten hands, she can cut them off one by one!" Gonde reminded meaningfully.

Oral began to ooze cold sweat: "Is she here to ...... So that I can't complain to my master? After all, I did it first......"

Gangde grinned and said, "Isn't it fair that if you touch a finger, she will give you a steel vertebrae!"

The elven poet's face was as pale as a dead man, and he even began to look a little lost. He can't even complain, what kind of fairness is this?

"Behind each of the murderous leaders, there stood two even more murderous women. That's what you just said. Gonde said.