Dogu soon hurried over. As soon as he entered the tent, he muttered with a bitter face: "Oh, my king! You're ...... again"

Halfway through his words, the old witch doctor's voice froze.

On the bed mat in the depths of the tent, the silver-gray long-haired human held the demon king in his arms.

Lanmuir's physique was much thinner than that of Dim Shine, and his white fingers stroked the dark scales, and he gently touched Dim's face, lowering his eyes and whispering, soothing something.

The scene was very impactful. Dogu's jaw was about to fall to the ground, and he didn't dare to go inside!

The old demon wanted to cry without tears in his heart: God, their king would be held by a slave in such a weak posture and be watched by himself!

When my king comes to his senses, he won't kill demons......

Inside the tent, Ranmuir looked up and glanced at Duogu from afar. He patted his dim cheek, leaned over the latter's ear and said, "My king, wake up, Lord Tagu is here."

"Hmm." The Demon King's eyes were closed, and his sweaty forehead was resting on Ranmuir's shoulder. He said hoarsely: "Got it, you go out.

Duogu is even more soulless. Well, he thought that the king was delirious to let himself be held by others, but it turned out to be intentional

Appearance!

Lanmuir nodded, and he lifted the demon to his feet, causing the demon king to lean on the cushion, and then obediently got up and went out, not forgetting to salute politely as he passed the witch doctor.

Tagu stared at the humans with a ghostly gaze and walked out. When the door of the big tent was completely lowered, he suddenly turned to the direction of the dim: "My king!"

He wailed and raised his hands in the air: "You...... Why do you ...... How can you bring the Human Saint Monarch close to you when an old wound is attacking!

Dusk didn't speak, he opened his eyes, and he was also looking in the direction of Lanmuir's departure, and there was a faint flicker of different colors in his red pupils. I don't know how long it took before I responded perfunctorily to the old witch doctor:

"You know, I'm testing him."

As he spoke, the Demon King actually laughed gloomily, and said in a low voice: "If there is any abnormal movement, I will immediately strangle him......"

Old Witch Doctor: ......

Nonsense! I see you're glad you're being hugged by humans!

Dogu left after a clock. Lanmuir stood at the door of the big tent in the cold wind, and as soon as he saw Duogu coming out, he immediately asked about the demon king's situation.

Unexpectedly, the old witch doctor just looked at him from head to toe with a strange gaze, shook his head and didn't speak, and just left.

r/> Lanmuir had to go into the tent to see the faint.

The Demon King's condition was obviously stable, and he was sitting under the lamp at this time, holding a parchment wine bag in his hand, and drinking slowly.

When he saw Ranmuir come in, he pointed to the tent without looking up: "Where you sleep tonight."

"No matter what you hear at night, it has nothing to do with you. You may go out, but you are not allowed to come in. If you dare to come in, I'll treat you as if you're trying to assassinate me.

…… That night, Ranmuir couldn't sleep at all.

The situation in the dim light was much worse than he had imagined. The god-killing demon king seemed to have turned into a fragile fledgling, waking up again and again, covering his face in pain and gasping, his arched figure distorted and reflected on the white curtain.

In the middle of the night, he began to nervously throw things again—not in a fit of rage or impulse, but like a beast induced by mania, repeating certain actions morbidly, as if this was the only way to distract some of the pain.

Ranmuel trembled and cried out from the curtain: "My king ......"

Boom! The bronze scimitar was thrown out of it and smashed at his feet. Accompanied by the Demon King's roar: ...... Shut up!

Lanmuir picked up the heavy scimitar and placed it on the weapon rack next to it, and asked, "Do you need to call a witch doctor?"

"Get out!"

It seemed that there was no way to communicate, and Lanmuir could only stay outside anxiously.

In fact, he had known for a long time that Faint had occasional night terrors, and he had asked worriedly, but every time he was either lightly taken or scolded for being nosy.

It doesn't seem strange to think about the harsh environment of the abyss, and the days and nights when the Demon King had to deal with assassinations every once in a while, and suffered from unstable sleep.

But in retrospect, this is by no means a problem that can be explained by unstable sleep.

The symptoms of the faint did not subside until the next morning, and Ranmuir stayed up all night with him outside.

When the first gong sounded in the barracks, the white curtain was lifted, and the tall figure slowly walked out.

The face of the demon king was still as cold and hard as iron. Except for a somewhat haggard complexion, everything seems to be business as usual.

"What's going on?" Lanmuir asked in a low voice.

"Old wounds." Faint moved her wrist unhurriedly and picked up the saber she had thrown out last night from the wooden frame. "When I was a child, I was burned by demonic breath, and if I consumed it too much, it would attack...... For many years, the witch doctors of the royal court knew about it. ”

Lanmuir's eyebrows sank: "Many years?

Isn't there a cure?" Heh," Faint smirked, "It's been delayed until now, it's long gone."

It's been a long time since the Demon King reminisced about his teenage years—the years when he had to fight to the death under the shadow of death.

He was a beast slave for the amusement of adults, and he wore chains to fight the Witch Bone Tiger; He has been the leader's personal guard, and he has also knelt down and kissed the scales and tails of other demons.

He conquered the tribe he was born from on behalf of the chief, killed his parents and siblings who had tried to kill him with his own hands, and smeared his exploits with blood.

In the next duel, he cut off the head of the leader and became the new master of that tribe.

Afterward...... He killed more and more demons. More and more fell before him and followed him.

He established his own royal court and regained the title of king. But I can't get rid of the pain like maggots attached to my bones, which may be

The destination of every warlike demon.

To this day, Dusk Flare can't imagine what he would be like without that arrow, if he hadn't lost his right corner. He didn't bother to think about it. It was boring, and meaningless for the rest of the war—the Demon King took his spear and hung the weight of it in the saddle.

"My king!"

Ranmuir chased him out of the tent, the bone ornament on his chest crashing in the wind, and the ringing all the way. He grabbed the reins before the Demon King got on his horse, with a rare hint of anger in his eyes: "You still have to fight today!?"

Faint: "What's your business? Go back and catch up on sleep, and wait for me to come back. ”

The Demon King's careless attitude was even more infuriating, and Ranmuir tugged on the string and gritted his teeth and said, "Can your body really fight? Even Lord Tagu and General Modo were admonishing the king so insistently......

Dusk: "You know what, don't get in the way."

Lanmuir's fingers were patiently broken apart by Dim. The Demon King patted the human by the hair and repeated the command: "Go back and catch up on sleep, wait for me to come back."

The wildebeest galloped away with the demon king, and soon turned into a small black dot that could not be seen clearly, leaving the white-robed human to stand silently in place. Not long after, the drums of war and the gongs rang out in unison.

The flare is intentional.

Ranmuir realized this when the bad news came from the front.

When the demons on both sides rushed up on the plain again, Dusk Yao personally led a small group of elites to go around the diagonal rear of the Hetor United Tribe like a slingshot. It seems that it is an attempt to crush the enemy army in one fell swoop.

However, in the afternoon, there was a news from the front that the demon king was surrounded by enemy troops

Urgent.

The army of the Hetor Liantai tribe was excited to perceive the decline of the demon king, and the army pressed up like a tide, layer after layer. Twilight was forced to retreat, but the galloping wildebeest turned into a hungry wolf chasing its prey, and the battle line was stretched to the limit, and soon a fierce chase began.

The air was instantly frozen by the cold wind.

Ranmuir rode through the tents to the front line of the firefight, and finally realized the strangeness of the flanks when he saw a large number of troops standing still.

He drove his horse to the demon generals, and lowered his voice: "Have you not thought that if anything goes wrong with such a risky method, your king—

One of the demon generals gave him a disdainful look and snorted, "Our king is far more powerful than you think."

The other said, "Go, and the slaves should stay behind." Do you think that with the slightest favor from the king, you will be able to command us?"

- Lanmuir's temper like a self-propelled god is so angry with this group of demons that he wants to swear, even if he hasn't learned it yet.

Faint knew that he was not in good shape, but he still played on the premise of an old injury, which was deliberate.

It is even possible that a few days ago, he fought fiercely outside for eight days in a row, and consumed himself until the onset of old injuries...... Also deliberately. The royal court's army had been stalemate outside for too long, which made the Demon King's patience gradually bottom out, and he longed for a quick victory.

A demon king who is in a state of old wounds and goes behind enemy lines alone...... Looking at the whole abyss, where else can you find a more fragrant bait?

The combined forces of the tribes were improvised alliances, and the coordination was not destined to be too good. When the tribes are out of control under greed, when the enemy's battle line is stretched and thinned in the pursuit, the fatal flaws are inevitably exposed.

So, will Hetor's army trap Faint to death first, or will the royal court's army find Hetor's flaw first and then break the enemy with one blow.........

The king and the king's generals entrusted each other with all their lives and trust to make a cruel gamble.

Lanmuir didn't like to gamble.

He said coldly, "Send an army to meet you."

Mordo laughed sarcastically, "I'm so sorry, Lord Ranmuir, we only obey my king's orders."

Rammuir: "I will not interfere in your war, but the king was in a bad situation last night, and it is likely that the current situation is out of his control, and he must send an army to meet it.

None of the demons paid any attention to him.

Modo yawned deliberately and said lazily: "Lan

If you're really that worried, Lord Muir, why don't you go to the rescue yourself?"

As soon as these words came out, the demon generals around them snickered. They all knew that the king's beloved slave was a weak mortal

"The king to whom we are loyal is a king who never ceases to fight; And dying in battle was originally the fate of the demon powerhouse. Mordo's words ended with a mocking: "Haven't you adapted to the abyss yet, human?"

This sentence is like oil splashed on Mars.

Suddenly, Ranmuir's demeanor changed. His face was tense, his lips were straight, and the corners of his eyes instantly swept with a cold edge, which was a little close to the concept of anger.

"What fate.

"It's all a lie.

The slave, who had always been gentle and tolerant like a sheep, suddenly sneered and raised his eyebrows—Modo's back was numb for a moment. She swore she had never seen this human look so horrible.

"Where the sun shines, humans will say that it is the fate of the demon king to die at the hands of the Son of God."

Ranmuir's eyes were cold, "If it were fate, he would have died at my hands, not in this kind of place."

With that, he jerked the reins. The tall wildebeest raised its hooves and neighed, and under the exclamation of countless demons, it rushed towards the battlefield farther away with the human head without looking back.

Like a white snowflake, falling into a raging black storm. The next moment, the snowflakes turned into the storm itself.

The fishy wind swept through the dim plains, blowing the white robes and long hair into a surge. Lanmuir closed his eyes for a moment, and he raised his empty, defenseless right hand—

The white fingertips of human beings burned black flames with the breath of billowing death.

greet