Augustus Under the Horseshoe

Maintained for a full twelve hours, the flow of arrows on the battlefield, and some dark arrows, almost can not pose an effective threat to him.

After the two sides shot each other for a round, Sartre suddenly heard a terrifying sound that shook the world, and the sound of countless horses hoofs smashing the earth, like muffled thunder, like a war drum, and dense white shadows, a long piece of it!

"Go! Retreat! Magnus! Go invisible and see how many people are there!"

After all, the vision in the darkness has its limit. The eagle was forced to retreat and shot to death by the rain of arrows, causing the **** scouts to be unable to estimate the number of opponents. According to the report of the Jinlu scout, this group of Sartre may have three thousand people! There were only a hundred elite predators under their own hands. In a hurry, they had to reverse their directions, retreat backwards, twist their strong and flexible waists, perform Parthian archery, and attack the dense horns behind them. The white shadow splashed out a large number of sharp arrow clusters.

The little devil shrugged, and his whole person disappeared into the night in an instant. He flapped a pair of huge flesh wings, dexterously avoided the arrow rain, and slowly approached to the east. The sound of horseshoes resounding through the sky like thunder, His heart trembled with shock, and his whole body was trembling, but he took a closer look-the interception troops sent by the other party, after experiencing the baptism of arrows, were even less than a hundred! Those scary sounds are all auditory hallucinations made by bards!

"There are no low-level spells, only low-level mages, right?" After receiving the report from the familiar, Painhurs shrugged silently. This spell is useless. This time, the enemy taught him a lesson.

"Wings spread out! Slow down! Prepare to kill back! Magnus is here to report, the enemy is less than a hundred! Those scary sounds and images are all illusions! I will act according to my actions for a while!" He took out two soft solid like sponges and stuffed them into his ears. The rest of the people followed suit—the bard’s auxiliary ability was terrifying, but it was limited. As long as the voice was not heard, the other party’s melody magic would be useless.

I saw that more than a hundred predators lined up in a row, speeding up in the middle, slowing down on both sides one by one, and gradually forming a scattered and huge pocket shape. Sartre thought that the centaurs were frightened by his mighty lineup. , And fled in all directions, sending out a triumphant laugh. Without realizing it at all, his troops slowly fell into the trap of a man and horse and were surrounded on three sides.

Just as the bard smiled, the man in charge of the blood rage banner, at the sign of the acting chief, quickly shook the hideous banner of the blood skull in his hand three times, and after seeing the signal, the blood rage man and horse shook their hooves fiercely. With a kick on the ground, the whole person was leaping high while rotating his huge body, completing a 180-degree turn in mid-air. After landing on four feet, he happened to face Sartre’s cavalry unit. Directly launched an unstoppable wild charge!

"AlanNure Skerritt!!!"

Although he couldn't hear it, the predators still used wild roars to lower the morale of the enemy. The centaurs retracted the huge compound longbow in their hands and drew out a heavy javelin with the thickness of a child's arm from their side. Throwing at the half-man and half-sheep surrounded by three sides, a heavy iron javelin, like a stern lightning, tore through the dark night, penetrated Sartre's flesh and skin, and smashed their tendons. Bones, blooming bright blood flowers in the dark night!

There is no such thing as a stirrup these days. Some clans who are backward don't even use a few belts to tie their legs to the belly of a horse to prevent falling. The horror power attached to the javelin directly shot down those half-human and half-goats from horseback, rolled on the ground several times, and passed out directly. Those who were out of luck, even were

One's own horseshoes, trampled into a **** mud!

"Damn it! Can a galloping cavalry turn like this?! This is simply cheating!!!"

Seeing the revolving and jumping people and horses turning in circles, they slayed aggressively towards him, the bard hurriedly raised the herding flute in his hand and played a seductive and depressing sound, preparing to entice these powerful soldiers and stop attacking. But... the magic melody has no effect on these predators whose ears are blocked. They continue to throw terrifying iron javelins, plundering the fragile lives of the enemy!

Sartre was caught off guard and quickly plunged into the **** quagmire of close hand-to-hand combat. Their delicate bodies couldn't compete with the strange power of the horses. Their talented rhythms were also blocked by earplugs. As the battle situation turned sharply, they soon fell into the quagmire. One-sided death!

"Catch the live! Go back to the interrogation! You guys take your hands!" Looking at a group of red-eyed predators, they pulled out the scimitar daggers from their waists, and with the help of the invincible charge, On the delicate body of the bard, a wave of **** waves that rushed into the sky was cut and Painhurs roared speechlessly.

Hell, those people were wearing earplugs to counter the bard's musical magic, and couldn't hear their commands.

"Okay, I'll catch it myself."

The pale white horse sighed, and dodged a rampaging prairie horse, a coquettish and beautiful Sartre girl, with her silver-haired, slender and toned recurve hoof, tightly clamped only covered with a layer of leather On the back of his horse, playing with a sharp machete in his right hand, on the invisible force field shield of the acting chief, he chopped a huge and terrifying gap.

Pain Hess was unwilling to show weakness, and at the moment when the two passed by, an ethereal ghostly tentacles, also stretched out of his distorted and blasphemous dark green body, quietly appeared on the left shoulder of the acting chief, and it accurately passed the warhorse's. The belly is filled with dark green ghoul poison.

The long bloodstain quickly rotted and purged, exuding a suffocating stench. The galloping horse, stiff, fell directly to the ground, throwing the charming half man and half sheep on its back into the high sky. Then it fell to the ground fiercely, raising a large amount of dust.

"Cough—cough—"

The bard, who had broken several bones, struggled to get up from the ground, trying to grab the scimitar that fell to the side, but in the dust, a horrible half-man and half-horse appeared quickly! The pale horseshoes stomped heavily on the hilt of the scimitar, and a sharp spear reflecting the cold moonlight also lightly tapped on the bard's slender neck like a swan.

"Raise your hands! Stop resisting!"

Looking at the awkward Sartre girl under the hoof, the demon face that charmed all living beings showed a desperate expression, raised his hands tremblingly, and gave up resistance. A confident smile appeared on the corner of Painhurs' mouth.

The language teacher does not deceive me. This lingua franca is one of the first conversations I learnt. For centuries, it is indeed more commonly used.