Let me reiterate.

Swear by the maggots in his mother's gutters and cesspit, there is nothing in the world more terrifying and more maddening than a battlefield. Thomas sat beside the bearded fire with a blank face, and wiped his brand new long sword against the firelight. This is not a ration from the rear. Rather, he took it from the Roman recruits he killed today. In order to keep it, he also got into a fight with that annoying red-faced baboon and broke his finger.

Who would have known that a young man who used to spend every day with dung and flower fields in the city would become so cruel and indifferent after a month?

Ah, yes. That recruit is a piece of shit. That girl is just like a woman, she is self-white and clean, and there are no calluses on her hands. Naruojian would tremble, and when cutting someone, he didn't even face him with the blade, but tilted the sword body and smashed it down. Thomas slapped the weak sword aside with a merciless shield and pierced the recruit's left shoulder with force, pinning him to the ground. While he was screaming in pain, Thomas kicked the recruit hard in the crotch, and then hit the back of the head with his shield. It only takes two clicks for him to be silent.

So the sword was his. As for the one he used originally, it was left in the bones of the recruit as an exchange. By the way, this is the buckler studded with hard leather, which he also took from the Roman soldiers last week.

A good one!

Ah. Are the Romans no one? This kind of young master has been sent out? "

Thinking of the ugly and embarrassing look of that recruit, Thomas laughed happily. With the blade of the sword, he gently scraped off the oil left over from his palms after eating meat, and rubbed a few on the body of the sword indiscriminately. The low flames danced, reflecting the dancing brilliance on his face. It seemed like he was distracted, but if someone sneaked up behind him, Thomas would be merciless, and he would pierce his heart with a sword without even looking back.

"Fucking war." Thomas spit into the fire, whining under his breath. He felt the scar on his face itching.

It was a hideous scar stretching from his forehead to his right cheek. It was a little soldier who gave it to Thomas two weeks ago.

His skills are much stronger than that silly recruit, and he also has armor on his body. Thomas looked at him standing with the sword in his hand, and was dazed for a long time, not daring to make a move. In the end, it was his fencing teacher, the blacksmith with two children, who sneaked up on the dwarf from behind and created his chance. The old blacksmith's silent slash was easily dodged, and the dwarf cut off the old blacksmith's right hand holding the sword with a backhand sword, and the first sword pierced the old blacksmith's rib. But the old blacksmith just roared angrily, stretched out his hand and grabbed the dwarf's neck suddenly.

It was the hand holding the blacksmith's hammer. The muscles on his thick arms were bulging, and he was dripping with sweat. At this time Thomas has already rushed up. Because the dwarf was fighting, he was afraid of cutting off the blacksmith's hand and did not dare to cut off his head, and the blunt sword could not cut the iron armor of the dwarf at all. He could only hit his temple with his fist again and again.

However, the short man kicked the blacksmith away, threw his sword and nailed him in the face. He pulled out the dagger with his backhand and tried to poke Thomas in the eye. Thomas gave one last bit of guilt. Barely swipe past the eyes. His nose was nearly cut open, exposing his cheekbones. His right eye was also bloodied.

He grabbed the dwarf's right hand with his backhand, took away his dagger, and stabbed him in the face again and again. If you poke Thomas, he loses consciousness.

When he woke up again, it was already the next night. He was briefly healed by the priest and learned that the blacksmith was dead.

But he just said "oh", unexpectedly there was no feeling of grief in his heart, just a little sadness, and some relief and envy.

Thomas then had a fever for three days and barely ate, and the priest even gave up on his treatment. But he woke up by himself in the early morning of the fourth day, gobbling up food. Ti Ruojian went to the battlefield again. After hacking four people to death, another person was killed alive.

At that time, because of his weakness, the sword in his hand was thrown out. And Thomas went around behind the man, deftly dropped the man's sword, and locked his arms behind his back. Mars, who couldn't move his hand, bit the man's neck in desperation, chewing and biting his flesh until the man's struggle gradually weakened, then he picked up the weapon and chopped off his head down.

His own mouth was bitten off. The blood in the mouth does not only come from the enemy. Since then, his reputation has become "Thomas the Ghoul", feared and admired by his comrades. After the fourth captain of the third formation died again, he naturally got the position of the small captain. By this time, the military formations of Tire and Rome were already in chaos.

Once the former African armies collide, they will immediately fall into chaos.

Get the **** out of order! Fuck tactical planning!

That's right, if you keep the formation, the survivability of the back row will increase several times.

But I'm not in the back row! Everyone thinks so. Up to now, except for those who have gone mad, everyone puts life first. At least that's how it is here in Tyre.

After the people who tried to escape two weeks ago were all killed by the intelligent battle group blocked on the other side of the city, they understood. Before the city is completely captured, this army will not be allowed to withdraw. The fight here in Tire is getting more and more cowardly. Rome wasn't much better off, either.

Although their average combat power is much higher than that of the Tyrian soldiers, there are also priests accompanying the army who can penetrate the formation. But after all, they don't have a city, and the more they fight, the more tired they are, and they can't afford it. And the Romans seemed to be quarreling very fiercely internally. Without a clear combat purpose—the strongest first team was transferred away on the third day. Then came the first wave with many recruits, then the third wave, and now the returning wave.

For some reason, Roman soldiers have been moving in various ways. But because he couldn't get out of the city at all, Thomas didn't know what happened to the other fronts in Tire.

But at least it wasn't too bad since there were no Roman soldiers to charge from behind.

Thomas squatted in front of the fire with his eyes slightly closed, and fell into a very light sleep. If when I wake up tomorrow, the war is over, what a dream. He sneered. I heard that the priests and gentlemen said that if a person kills a man, he will be cast into **** by the **** Anubis after death. The soul is to be sent to the grill to be eaten by the devil. That kind of thing, no matter what. If the priest came to the battlefield, he would know that his worries need not exist at all. Because there is no need to prepare a hot grill.

The battlefield is hell.