Dust of History: Dream crazy (2)

Chama's face was a little bad, and he shook his head and said, "You don't know, I also heard from an old adventurer who had been here before that the terrain and climate in this desert are too strange, so the mirages that appear will never appear. They are all fixed, and they all reflect things at a fixed distance in the same direction. That is to say, although what we see now is a phantom, the real thing is in this direction, but it is farther away."

"How far is it?" Rod Hart asked.

"Not sure, maybe a few hundred miles, but it must be in this direction."

"Well, let's go then." Rod Hart said lightly. "Now that the direction is known, it will probably be soon."

"You're crazy!" Chama finally couldn't help shouting. "Do you know what that is? That is the legendary Shadowspin Mountain Range."

"It's okay, let's go on." The young knight still looked so calm, but his face seemed to be more determined.

Chama's pupils contracted into a small black dot, and he looked at the young man and asked word by word: "Could it be... that's where you were going?"

The knight did not answer, but still looked at the phantom of the mountains in the distance. Although it was a phantom, his eyes were as hard as steel. Walking in the desert for many days, the wind and sand had blown his handsome and somewhat feminine face full of scars, the kind of scars that the hardest granite has experienced wind and sand.

Taking a deep breath, Charma took two steps back on the camel and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Knight. I probably can only send you to this place. I can't go there. Excuse me. I'm breaking up with you right here, please forgive me. I'm just an ordinary person eating and drinking, I dare not go to that place, no matter how much money you give me, I won't go..."

"Well, well, it's hard for you." The knight turned his head and looked at him, not surprised. In fact, the biggest reason why countless people dare not set foot in this desert is not because of the environment here. It's because of the shadowy mountain range behind the desert, the deepest part of the mountain range is almost synonymous with fear, death, and darkness in the hearts of people on the entire continent. Di Yagu. Nobody really wants to go there.

"The rest of the way is to ask Sir Knight to go on your own. I will turn around and go back here. I only need one-third of water and food, oh. One-fourth is enough... I know you The road ahead is difficult. You must ensure sufficient physical strength. I will use the water and food to support me to go out..."

The expression on Chama's face now is completely the expression of the kind of person whose ancestors have faced the loess for three generations, and also has the cowardice of a man who grew up under his mother's skirt. And this request is almost indistinguishable from begging for mercy.

There is no way. When Chama found out that the young knight's goal was actually that mountain range, he recalled some stories that were just nonsense.

It is true that there are very few people who will go deep into this desert for a strange purpose. If only one out of 10,000 adventurers will enter the desert, then there will be such a person in a 1/10,000 chance. They are not for the legendary treasure, but for the Shadowspin Mountain Range , to enter Diya Valley. Become a legendary necromancer.

The word 'crazy' is no longer enough to describe this kind of person. They aspire to become necromancers, whether they have the ability or not. At least mentally, he may already be more dangerous than a necromancer. So in the face of this kind of person, being cautious is the best attitude. Although it is really difficult to get out of the desert with a quarter of water and food, three quarters should be enough for the opponent to walk to the Shadow Spinning Mountains.

Sure enough, the young knight looked at Chama with a smile and said, "I know, you have worked hard these days. Without your help, I would definitely not be able to get to this place." Even so, his smile still looks very moving , very kindly. He is kind and gentle, as if thanking his dearest old friend.

Chama hurriedly bowed his head and nodded, with a more humble smile on his face, cautiously, he said: "Master Knight, can you pay me a little more of the reward you promised me..."

"Of course, you deserve it." The knight reached into the cup and took out a few gold coins.

Chama quickly jumped off the camel, bowed his waist and bowed his head, and walked in front of the knight. He had a cautious smile all over his face, with one hand spread flat and the other holding his lower back. This is the highest courtesy of the nomads in the desert to the most distinguished guests. His expression, demeanor, tone of voice, body, and his whole person now look limp, friendly and humble.

But the moment the knight jumped off the camel and let go of the hand holding the gold coin in front of him, his whole body suddenly moved like an explosion.

Logically speaking, it is impossible for such a person whose whole body is completely relaxed, even his posture is limp, to make such swift and violent movements, but he did it. His whole body was indeed soft, but the hand supporting his lower back was always as tight as a string that was about to break. Every **** meat and tendon is in a state of near limit, and he gathers the energy of the whole body to hold the short scimitar behind him. The moment the knight let go of his hand, he drew his sword.

The power and speed of this knife can move his whole body together. The moment the saber was drawn, the expression on his face lost the slightest weakness, but he was so ferociously aroused by the fighting spirit and killing intent that he looked like a lion that had been hungry for a hundred years.

Desert nomads will always survive in battle, and even the most humble gesture can become the most powerful killing move. What's more, Chama himself has studied this way of using the knife. He can definitely be regarded as one of the fastest people in the tribe when using this posture. He once used this method to feign surrender and kill a group of crusaders. Once a Templar of the Holy See.

Water and food, this is enough reason for him to put all his eggs in one basket.

At this moment, even the scorching sun in the sky is slightly inferior. Even in such a light and in the desert, the light drawn by the short knife is still so dazzling, and the sound of breaking the wind like an explosion can be heard far away.

The light of the knife is followed by the light of blood. The bright red color adds a touch of gorgeous embellishment to this drab background under the strong sunlight. Chama could clearly see his sword light, which was brighter than the sun, passing in front of the young knight ~IndoMTL.com~ and then a **** color spread across the sky.

The light of the knife continued to rise from bottom to top, and finally gradually weakened and slowed down, returning to a knife with a severed hand tightly held on the handle. It was only then that Chama realized that the **** light actually came from his own body, from his own hands, and from the headless body...

"I'm sorry, let alone a quarter, I can't even give you a fortieth of food and water. You are right, I must maintain enough physical strength." The young knight put away his sword and entered sheath. Looking at the crumbling corpse in front of him, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, stretched out his hand to hold the corpse, pointed his mouth at the severed head where the blood was gushing out, and took a long sip.

"Salt is actually consumed faster than expected, it's not enough..." There is a lot of salt in the blood of animals, but they can't eat too much, and it's not easy to digest. So after only two sips the young knight let go of the corpse and dropped it. The blood from the severed neck of the corpse continued to gurgle, seeping into the scalding gravel below.

He tied the two camels together, jumped on the camels, looked at the mountains in the distance and started to move on. The face and body were already covered with blood, and some blood stains began to dry and crack on the face due to the baking-like heat and dryness. But even so, his face didn't look hideous or terrifying at all. Facing the phantom in an unknown place, his face was full of calm and almost pious firmness, like a pilgrim.