Lord of the Oasis

In front of the Dark Red Sect is Viscount Gibran.

Having lost his left arm, he still looks burly and strong, riding on a tall steed, wearing a black and red robe, and letting his gray long hair flutter in the wind, he has an aristocratic air.

And he also had a bright smile on his face, and there was a slight red glow in the depths of his eyes.

Confront Kant.

He wasn't as full of hatred as an enemy.

Because in his heart, the Baron Kant in front of him, and the seemingly huge number of troops behind him, will become his sacrifices, and at the foot of the death penalty mountain, he will complete his blood sacrifice to that supreme being!

Just like now, he, Gibran, is guiding this group of ignorant people into the trap he has set.

Why does he have hatred?

Thank you too late!

Quietly waiting for Kant's troops to form a formation, watching the light cavalry who had completed the outflanking on both wings, Gibran slowly raised his right hand, signaling to the restless soldiers on his side to calm down.

Riding his horse forward, he pulled out a scepter studded with red gems from his wide sleeve.

"Baron Kant."

Gibran nodded gracefully: "Meet again."

There is still aristocratic etiquette.

It's just that Bestur next to him squinted slightly, looked at this Gibran, and reminded Kant in a deep voice: "Sir, I don't think this guy is normal, you better be careful."

"If he is normal, then it is abnormal." Kant chuckled and shook his head.

The same horse forward.

Looking at Gibran in front of him, he also lowered his head and smiled: "Of course, we meet again, Viscount Gibran."

"The weather is good." Gibran chuckled: "Look at what I have prepared for you, it's a surprising surprise, if you don't mind, come and have a look, I'm willing to introduce you to the scenery of Death Penalty Mountain and the supremacy of my beliefs. exist."

"The so-called Demon Lord?"

Kant also chuckled.

He tilted his head and said calmly: "I'm very interested." It was just that his voice became colder: "If possible, I want to kill all of you in front of me, smear me with blood on my way to the death penalty mountain, and then You are killing the so-called supreme existence, the demon lord who should have been wiped out in history!"

"Uh." Gibran was a little stunned, the aristocratic traditional hypocritical smirk on his face had not yet dissipated, and there was a bit of anger in his eyes looking at Kant.

Viscount Gibran who grew up in a noble family.

But it has never been so direct.

In other words, he had never seen such direct, blunt words like mercenaries and gangsters scolding the streets.

Even if he took refuge in the abyss demon, in his mind, the etiquette of the nobles was still deeply engraved in his heart. This has become a habit, and a reflex action cannot be erased at all.

It is even more unacceptable to accept Kant's undisguised threat!

"You managed to arouse my anger."

Gibran chuckled.

"Is it."

Kant nodded and waved to the side: "Then make them even more angry!"

"Shooting!" Bestour, who was already ready, shouted instantly. He did not see the outside world, and directly said what he wanted to say for Kant. Bestour had his own way of trying to figure out the thoughts of his superiors.

Although he was in the name of rage, he was able to escape from the Kugit Khanate and made a name for himself in Calradia.

And the cunning from the deepest part of my heart!

"Whoosh whoosh—"

The arrow shot instantly.

5oo senior Rhodok crossbowmen and 5oo Ravenston rangers gathered their ready killing intent on their steel crossbow bolts and cone-headed arrows, and it was already less than 3oo to move forward like a waterfall. The enemy formation swayed from meters away.

As level 4 arms, they are the elite among long-range infantry, and they are already qualified to kill to a range of 3oo meters.

Thanks to the excellent weapon in his hand.

And superb craftsmanship!

The stream of arrows flew by,

The targets of these elite bowmen are the colleagues in the front row!

Those archers who were armed with short bows or hunting bows, each with a sullen expression, obviously did not want to fight for the Dark Red Sect, but were forcibly recruited here and offered their first feast!

"Puff puff-"

The sound of arrows piercing the flesh kept ringing.

In an instant, archers wearing leather armor or no armor at all fell one after another.

Fragments of archers were harvested, but they could only bow their heads in a daze to avoid them, or shyly scattered around, because the simple hunting bows in their hands could shoot 5o meters, even if it was not bad!

The troops of the Principality of Lions don't pay attention to archers at all. This is the tradition of the nobles.

They believed that only the knights made up of knights were the strongest.

As for bowmen.

That's just a little thing used by lowly mercenaries.

As long as they are approached by knights, these limp and junk weapons will not pose any threat at all. This is a habit developed over the years in combat. After all, those mercenaries also do not have the funds to buy powerful bows and crossbows.

Battle bows and crossbows are fine weapons, far from being comparable to cold weapons such as spears and swords!

This leads to.

At present, under the long-range attack of Kant's troops, the archers of the Dark Red Sect are dying in pieces.

In a short period of time, there were 2oo+ archers killed on the spot, and most of them were wounded and had lost the ability to continue fighting, and their morale had dropped to a low point, on the verge of collapse!

"kill!"

And Gibran showed no mercy.

Looking at the archers who were dodging, they turned their heads and gave orders to the dark red sect fanatics in black robes.

As long swords and hatchets appeared in the hands of those mad believers, they mercilessly chopped down at those archers who dared to flee, and slaughtered those archers abruptly!

The blood became more intense, and piles of corpses gathered in front of the formation.

All those innocent archers.

Except for a few that fled away.

Most of them had their heads chopped off by the mad believers, and they were casually thrown in front of the battle, forming a scene like a slaughterhouse.

The elite spearmen in the rear were a little shaken, and many people had already started retching, even commotion.

Can be subject to the deterrence of those fanatics.

No one dared to move.

The formation has been successfully formed, and anyone's turmoil will cause a conspicuous commotion, which can easily be sensed by others.

At that time, being killed by those mad believers who have no reason at all, in the name of the supervising team, is simply a matter of course. If you die, you will die in vain, and there is no honor at all.

Only Kant frowned slightly and reached out to signal the bowman to stop shooting.

"Something's not normal." ()

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