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 long gray 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 light in the depths of his eyes.
Confront Kant.
He wasn't full of hatred like an enemy.
Because right in his heart, the Baron Kant in front of him, and the seemingly large number of troops behind him, will all become his sacrifices, and at the foot of the death penalty mountain, he will complete his blood sacrifice to the supreme being!
Just like now, he, Gibran, is guiding this group of ignorant people into the trap he has set.
Why should he have hatred
Thank you too late!
Quietly waiting for Kant's troops to line up, watching the light cavalry on the two wings complete the outflanking, Gibran slowly raised his right hand to signal his restless soldiers to calm down.
Riding his horse forward, he took out a scepter inlaid with red gems from his wide sleeve.
"Baron Kant."
Gibran nodded gracefully: "We meet again."
There are still aristocratic etiquette.
It's just that Bestur next to him narrowed his eyes slightly, looked at this Gibran, and reminded Kant in a deep voice: "My lord, I feel that this guy is not normal, you better be careful."
"If he is normal, then he is not normal." Kant chuckled and shook his head.
Also rode 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 an unexpected surprise. If you don't mind, come and take a look. I would like to introduce you to the scenery of Death Penalty Mountain and the supreme belief I believe in." exist."
"The so-called demon lord?"
Kant also chuckled.
Tilting his head, he said calmly, "I'm very interested." But his voice became colder: "If possible, I want to kill all of you in front of me, smear my road to Death Penalty Mountain with blood, and then You are killing your so-called supreme existence, the demon lord who should have disappeared in history long ago!"
"Uh." Gibran was a little stunned, the hypocritical smirk of the aristocratic tradition on his face hadn't dissipated, and there was a bit of anger in his eyes looking at Kant.
Viscount Gibran grew up in a noble family.
But never so directly.
In other words, he has never seen such straightforward words, like mercenaries and bandits cursing the streets.
Even if he took refuge in the abyss demon, in his mind, the etiquette of nobles was still deeply engraved in his heart. This has become a habit, and the reflex action cannot be erased at all.
It is even more impossible to accept Kant's undisguised threat!
"You managed to arouse my anger."
Gibran chuckled.
"Is it."
Kant nodded and waved to the side: "Then let them be even angrier!"
"Shoot!" Bestur, who had already been prepared, yelled in an instant. He didn't look outside, and directly said what he wanted to say for Kant. Bestur had his own way of trying to figure out the thoughts of his superiors.
Although he was famous for his violent anger, he was able to escape from the Kujit Khanate and made a name for himself in Calradia.
And the cunning from the deepest part of my heart!
"Whoosh whoosh—"
The arrow shot out instantly.
500 senior Rhodok crossbowmen and 500 Ravenston rangers gathered their ready-to-kill killing intentions on their steel crossbow bolts and cone-headed arrows, and less than 300 people rushed forward like a waterfall. Enemy lines swaying from meters away.
As a level 4 arm, they are the elite of long-range infantry, and they are already qualified to kill at a range of 300 meters.
Thanks to the excellent weapon in hand.
And superb craftsmanship!
Straight arrows flew by, and the targets of these elite crossbowmen were the colleagues in the front row!
Those archers who held shortbows or hunting bows, all of them looked sluggish, obviously did not want to fight for the Dark Red Sect, but were forcibly recruited here, offered the first big meal!
"Puff puff puff—"
The sound of arrows piercing into flesh could not be heard.
In an instant, the archers who were wearing leather armor or had no armor at all fell down one after another.
Scores of archers were harvested, but they could only bow their heads to avoid them in a daze, or scattered towards the surroundings timidly, because the simple hunting bows in their hands could shoot 50 meters, which is not bad!
The troops of the Lion Principality don't pay much attention to archers at all. This is the tradition of the nobles.
They believe that only knights composed of knights are the strongest.
As for the crossbowmen.
It's just a small thing used by lowly mercenaries.
As long as the knights get close, these soft garbage 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 crossbows.
War bows and crossbows are delicate 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 died in pieces.
In just a few moments, more than 200+ archers were killed on the spot. What's more, most of them were injured and lost the ability to continue fighting. Their morale was so low that they were on the verge of collapse!
"kill!"
But Gibran showed no mercy.
Looking at the archers who were avoiding, he turned his head and gave orders to the fanatics of the Dark Red Sect in black robes.
As long swords and hatchets appeared in the hands of those fanatics, they mercilessly hacked at those archers who dared to flee, and slaughtered those archers abruptly!
The blood became thicker and thicker, and piles of corpses gathered in front of the formation.
All those innocent archers.
Except for a small number of people who fled away.
Most of them had their heads chopped off by the fanatics, and they were randomly thrown in front of the formation, forming a picture like a slaughterhouse, and the whole area began to have a strong smell of blood, which was extremely stench.
The elite pikemen in the rear were a little shaken, and many of them had already started to retch, or even commotion.
Can be subject to the deterrence of those fanatics.
No one dared to move.
Once the formation has been successfully formed, anyone's disturbance will cause a conspicuous commotion and can be easily spotted.
When the time comes to be killed by those unreasonable fanatics in the name of the supervising team, it will be a matter of course. The death will be for nothing, and there will be no honor at all.
But Kant frowned slightly, and stretched out his hand to signal the crossbowman to stop shooting.
"It's not normal."
(end of this chapter)