The spears on the back of the powerful army were thrown by five and three. Whenever each spear was thrown, the body of a yellow turban cavalry would be pierced and died. These poor-quality weapons that looked ridiculous and had no sense of violence and beauty were no less than those finely polished weapons in terms of killing people.

The other soldiers of the Death Camp carried two spears and three spears on their backs, and had already thrown away by this time. No matter how many spears were, they were affected by many soldiers. In fact, there were not so many opportunities to throw spears in battle, and they were faced with high-speed moving troops like cavalry. When they pulled out the spears and then made the act of charging force to throw, the cavalry had already arrived in front of them. Before the soldiers of the Death Camp had thrown out the spears, they were pierced by the cavalry with the spears in their hands.

This is a bloody lesson. Once the soldiers of the Death Camp relied on spear throwing extremely. They used this move to throw many enemies before they even fought against the enemy in the infantry battle. However, in the battle with the Yellow Turban Army, they encountered an ambush. When they drew out their spears and wanted to throw them in their usual way, the enemy would be killed in front of them.

No matter how many methods are, they are all to shorten the gap between the enemy and bring greater damage to the enemy. But when you pursue too much, you will undoubtedly lose the watermelon and pick up sesame seeds, because the most trustworthy one is always the weapon you have in your hands!

He leaned over, lowered his head, and rushed forward. The spear passed over Li Qianjun's head, and the strong wind stirred his long hair to fly. The spear tip swept across in an instant, and the sharp blade took away several strands of Li Qianjun's hair, the coldness that made his scalp cold.

Li Qianjun has no helmet and does not wear a helmet. In his words, he will die when he deserves to die, and it is the same whether he wears a helmet or not.

The machete slashed across the horizontally. When it touched the front hoof of the war horse, it paused, but then it quickly cut through and separated the two hoofs of the war horse. His face was cold and he stood up straight. The war horse fell in front of him, making a dull sound, shaking the sand and dust on the ground.

The hand raised the knife and fell, and the machete cut the belly of the Yellow Turban Cavalry and divided it into two. Whether it was the skin, bones, or internal organs, they were cut open by the machete. A clear dividing line appeared between the upper and lower bodies of the Yellow Turban Cavalry, and blood from the intestines flowed out, flowing all over the ground.

Warm blood splattered on his face and flowed up and down his face, extremely sticky, turning Li Qianjun's face into a paint pavement. A sick smile appeared on Li Qianjun's face. He could clearly sense the speed, temperature, and a line slowly spreading downwards, and the smell of blood could not be entangled near the tip of his nose.

"It's such a fascinating smell." After sniffing, Li Qianjun's tongue stretched out, and the blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.

A long spear suddenly appeared in front of Li Qianjun. The tip of the spear was getting closer and closer to him, and there were drops of drooping blood on it. However, only a pair of scarlet eyes were greeted. Li Qianjun's left hand stretched out, grasping the tip of the spear with his palm, and a large piece of flesh was torn off. However, he held it deeply, embedded the sharp spear tip into his palm, rubbing the bones, causing unspeakable pain.

The pain made Li Qianjun's smile even brighter. He used his arm to pull it up with the inertia of the war horse. The war horse was sitting on the side with a joking smile. The Yellow Turban Cavalry on the other end of the spear was pulled down by him and fell heavily to the ground.

Li Qianjun turned sideways, his feet sinking deep into the land, but he still dragged a deep ditch backward. At this time, he let go of the spear in his hand, and the flesh and blood in his palms were blurred, but he looked at it very lightly. Even if he thrust again and again, it was nothing.

He was still deeply trapped in the aftertaste, and the blood in his mouth gradually merged into his saliva, but the fishy and sweet smell was still echoing in his taste buds. It made him excited and his heart beat violently. This feeling was indeed fascinating. The smell of this blood always seemed like some stimulants, which could stir up his nerves.

The foot was sinking downwards, and then lifted upwards, and the force rushed forward. The next moment, at the place where he had just stayed, a war horse rushed over. In this environment, every moment of staying would attract the attack of the cavalry. So he could only move and keep moving, but how could the speed of the human feet be faster than the speed of the four legs of the war horse?

Some soldiers from the Death Camp just avoided the impact of a cavalry. Before they could react, another cavalry rode past him. The final result of course was to be knocked away, and the result after the knock was death. When they were thrown into the sky, they were already dead many times.

There are more and more soldiers in the Death Camp, and the same Yellow Turban Cavalry have suffered many casualties. Everyone's eyes are red and they never retreat. The eyes are blood, and the heart is also blood. Those tyrannical thoughts are urgently needed to be watered with the freshest passionate blood.

Yunshui Qianlan was inhaling breaths in big mouthfuls. Every breath he breathed, a large amount of air with a bloody smell was sucked into his chest. Sweat flowed down from his forehead, and there was a wide open wound on his face, and the flesh that was turned on revealed a bright red piece. Blood continued to flow down, and sweat slashed through the wound. Every time the sweat dripping down, it brought a sourness and pain.

He was running and moving quickly, and everything on the battlefield fell into his eyes, recording anytime and anywhere. Flying knives flashed with cold light, flew out of his hands, and did not enter the chest of the Yellow Turban Cavalry. Every time, it appeared at the most dangerous and urgent time for other soldiers in the Death Camp to appear.

But gradually, he felt more and more powerless, his body was getting more and more wounds, his left arm became sore and weak, and his fingers gradually couldn't hold on to the flying knife. Yunshui Kuanglan was even a little dazed. When he came to his senses, a spear had already arrived in front of him and was getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, another figure appeared in front of him.

Chang Le groaned, and the spear penetrated his left chest and penetrated his chest cavity, and his two ribs also broke. The short knife in his hand swung in his palm, cutting the horse's tendons, and completely separating the flesh and bones from the bones.

He was taken away heavily, but Chang Le had a smile on his face. At least Yunshui Kuanglan had nothing to do. He still had a lot of life to pay, but it was a pity that he probably had no chance.

Yes, it would be fine if there was nothing. He reached out to pull out the spear in his chest, but Chang Le felt that his arms were not strong at all. There was a smile on the corner of his mouth, and he closed his eyes, and his vitality was quickly pulled away from his body.

"Change happiness!"
Chapter completed!