Chapter 1044： Emergencies

Chapter 1044

Meng Chao didn't guess wrong.

Wildhammer is playing a trick of combining grace and prestige.

He wanted to subdue this team that had been greedy for a long time, not to exhaust Meng Chao and the others.

Therefore, after the rat militiamen gritted their teeth and ran for dozens of laps and showed sufficient obedience, the wildhammer that was really unable to pick out the problem, let them stop, pretend they were again, and began to fight. He rubbed his hands three times and told them that a very rich banquet was arranged tonight. Moreover, he is a man who will reward and punish the warriors. As long as they can spare their lives and follow the master to work hard, they will definitely be able to be in the Glory Era. In the middle, become a real samurai and enjoy the benefits that other rat people can't enjoy for a lifetime, and can't even think of it.

Today's dinner is indeed exceptionally rich.

In addition to the deep-fried mandala fruit dipped in sour cream, each rat militia got a large piece of **** totem animal flesh, half a fragrant golden fruit, and even a pot. "Gufufufu" sparkling spirits.

After all, these servants can be regarded as elite fighters among the thousands of rats who can persist in the Blood Skull Arena for so long. The war is about to start, and the masters still have to give them a few sweet dates.

It's just that the delicious delicacies that usually make one's forefinger trembling, in the eyes of the rat militiamen at this moment, are like chewing wax, and can't stimulate the slightest morale.

"The Great Horned Rat God does not exist. The so-called messenger is a spy sent by the Golden Clan." This incident has hit the rat people's soul far beyond the imagination of the clan warriors.

The result of the disillusionment is that many rat militiamen are like leaves. Although they no longer believe in the bighorn rat god, they do not believe in "fighting and dying for the bloodhoof clan, using blood and courage to seize the supreme glory." Nonsense.

Since the Big Horn Rat God is fake, who can guarantee that the ancestor spirit of the Bloodhoof clan must not be fake?

Thinking about it this way, the Rat Citizens' servants have entered into a state of despair, believe in nothing, and lazily can't lift the spirit of anything.

It's just that under the threat of the commander's whip and the war knife of the superintendent team, driven by the desire to survive, it just advances mechanically.

In the words of the clan warriors gritted their teeth and hated iron but not steel: "These wastes look like noble Turan warriors. They are even more listless than the skeleton soldiers in the Nether Desert, who have lost the control of the Lich!"

Of course, the vast majority of rat people did not think of themselves as "noble Turan warriors".

They are just ants, ants who want to live.

And this was caused by the superior clan masters over the past tens of millions of years.

Having said that, the rat people of Turanze are like the skeleton soldiers of the Nether Empire. They are consumables that do not require thought and spirit.

No matter what they think, the entire war machine in Pointe-Noire, or the passionate horns and drums of the clan warriors, rumbled into operation.

When the red star, which looks three or five times larger than the sun on earth, tears the last ray of darkness in the long night, and pours the first turbulent **** river into the city of Pointe-Noire, it will shock the soul of war drums, It has resounded through hundreds of temples in major families and arenas.

At the same time, a bright pillar of light surrounded by large cuneiform characters rose above every temple.

Hundreds of light pillars are like pillars standing upright on the ground, and together they support a huge temple that is majestic, majestic, incomparable, invisible but can be clearly perceived by all bloodhoof warriors.

In this invisible temple, all bloodhoof warriors—whether they are tauren and boar with ancient blood, or the jackals, lizardmen, and feather tribes who have just joined the bloodhoof clan through the blood-giving ceremony. In the trance, I saw the magnificent, earth-shattering ancient battlefield.

I saw how the ancestor spirits, who regarded death as home and never surrendered, fought against the Twilight Cthulhu who tried to kill all the vitality on the earth.

I heard the angry roars of the ancestors and the heroic laughter.

And being infected by the passionate cry of the ancestors, I can’t wait to rush into the land of holy light now, rush to the tower that claims to be able to connect the heavens and the earth, to the vast starry sky, with a tiny body of flesh and blood. , And the Twilight Cthulhu who tried to control everything.

In this way, every temple is filled with the strongest warriors of each family.

In every temple, there was a roar that resounded through the sky and shattered gold and stones.

In the long and awkward singing of the priests and the twisting dance that surpassed the limit of the human body, teams armed to the teeth filed out of the temple.

The genius was bright at the moment.

There are still many places in Pointe Noire where the sun cannot shine.

Each clan warrior carried a huge leg bone made of totem beasts in his hand, bound with the flexible branches of the mandala tree soaked with grease, to create a torch.

Thousands of torches stretched into a fire dragon with teeth and claws.

Fire dragons passed through poor streets and ruined walls and gathered on the main road, becoming stronger, fierce and brighter.

They went from a team of hundreds of people to a battle group of thousands of people, and then to a battle group of tens of thousands of people.

At the forefront of the battle group, the ancient battle flag with a history that can be traced back thousands of years is fluttering in the wind.

Because of being soaked in the blood of countless warriors, these spiritually-shrouded battle flags showed no signs of contamination or damage. Instead, accompanied by the uniform roars of the clan warriors, they exuded incomparably magnificent rays of light, condensed into clusters of shining sparkles The humanoid form of Epic is like the heroes in the epic descending to the world, guiding the new generation of Turan warriors to rumbling forward towards their unfinished career.

In this way, when the sun rose, there were already more than a dozen battle groups. Outside the city of Pointe-Noire, under a mandala tree with a history of nearly 10,000 years and dozens of people could not hug it, the oldest **** Gathered in front of the temple.

The newly born Blood Skull battle group is the youngest battle group in Pointe Noire.

As the commander of the battle group, Kassavar Bloodhoof certainly wanted to make a magnificent appearance and win the crowd first.

But the ancestor spirit made a big joke with him.

In his blood skull battle group, there are many rat militia servants who have developed a sudden illness.

First, vomiting and diarrhea, followed by cold and hot, and then spinning around, sweating all over, muscles twitching, and joints sore as if hundreds of red-hot steel needles were inserted into it. It hurts if you move it lightly. I have to faint and I can't even stand up. Where can I assemble and set off?

The clan warriors originally thought that the rat militia was playing a ghost.

After severing two whips in succession, they failed to pull the rat militia servants, and the servants gritted their teeth one by one, and their faces looked like ghosts, they realized that the big thing was not good.

You know, even many "house mice" who have served the Bloodhoof family for hundreds of years and are absolutely loyal to their masters have suffered. Their legs become weak and they can't climb out after falling into the pit.

This is definitely not a disguise.

The witch doctors of the Blood Skulls also confirmed that these poor rat militias were indeed suddenly sick.

More precisely, they are poisoned.

All the rat militias who were sick had one thing in common. They had received rewards at the same time last night and ate exceptionally rich food.

The witch doctors studied the remaining food.

Eventually, weirdness was found in the sour cream and spirits rationed to the servants.

It was a toxin that no witch doctor had ever seen.

Combines the effects of a variety of domineering secret medicines, including laxatives.

As far as the bodies of the rats are deficient and not tonic, as long as they take a bite of sour cream and drink a small bowl of spirits, they will definitely fall into a state of food poisoning.

For food poisoning, witch doctors have no good solutions.

After all, it has been so long since yesterday's dinner. The toxins have invaded the blood and limbs of the rat militiamen, and it is useless to induce vomiting.

Obviously, it is impossible for spirits and sour cream to spoil at the same time and produce this strange toxin.

This is someone deliberately poisoning, obstructing the action of the blood skull battle group.

"Asshole!"

Casava was furious.

A dense blacklist suddenly appeared in my mind.

Fortunately, after studying for a long time, the witch doctors came to the conclusion that although this toxin is overbearing, it is not deadly.

Moreover, it comes fast and goes fast. Just lift the food-poisoned rat militiamen to a cool place to rest, feed them mild honey and stir the mandala puree soup. Within a day or two, it should be fine. Will slowly recover.

Well-trained servants are precious war resources.

Kassavar can only pinch his nose to let the witch doctors solve the food poisoning incident as soon as possible.

He commanded the samurai and servants who were not poisoned, and rushed to the Blackhorn Temple first.

Unfortunately, most of the Rat militiamen in Team Wildhammer were hit.

The rat militiamen of the "Original Ice Storm Team" who have just been subdued have particularly severe symptoms of food poisoning.

When receiving the reward last night, they all faithfully implemented Meng Chao's instructions, shook off their cheeks, slid their back teeth, swept the clouds, and gobbled up the horns, all of them braced their stomachs to look like a cicada's wings.

They were also the ones with the most severe vomiting and diarrhea.

The whole training camp was stinky by them.

So that Wildhammer rushed to the entrance of the training camp angrily, and was smoked into a series of sneezes.

Seeing that they are not like human beings, ghosts are not like ghosts, they are like gossips, and they have to kick their legs at any time. This clan warrior who has always been cruel and doesn't take the lives of the rat militia soldiers seriously has a little hairy in his heart.

After all, it was not without a price that Kasava snatched this well-trained and powerful team from Ice Storm and handed it over to him.

With the strongest fighters, you must perform the most difficult tasks.

This is a matter of course.

If you don't even see the faces of the Golden Clan and the Holy Light Clan, or even arrive at the Blackhorn Temple, the entire team will be reimbursed in your own hands.

Even the simple-minded Wildhammer can imagine how sharp Kasavar Bloodhoof will be when his eyes are pierced so hard.