Some slaves went crazy. They shouted the name of Jesus, threw away their spears, and jumped on the guards with their bare hands to fight with them.

They used their fists and teeth to bite and fight like wild beasts.

When Roger saw the former die-hard and now fanatical believer, he pounced on him.

He allowed several spears to pierce his chest and abdomen, and just stepped forward.

He let the blood gush out like a fountain and just stepped forward.

Every step he took made a puddle of blood, and he held tightly to the spear shaft that stabbed him.

So those guards gave up and retreated until they were blocked by the guards who came after them.

The slave was convulsing while being held up by a spear. He should be dead, but he couldn't fall down.

More pursuing guards rushed over, and they passed by the body of the fanatical believer.

The mad slaves were killed one by one, but they bought Roger time.

Roger beckoned the remaining slaves to escape up the stone wall.

The guards swarmed up the slope.

Roger looked at them all with pale faces, but there was madness in their eyes.

The slaves held their spears against the shields of the guards at the end of the slope, so the guards at the front could not move forward.

The people behind started shouting and pushing, trying to replicate the victory at the entrance of the village.

The slope is very narrow, only 2 people can sit side by side, there are no railings, and it is also very steep.

Roger saw a guard being pushed out of the slope, screaming and falling down, throwing up a cloud of dust.

The guard shield at the front was pushed aside, so the spear tip slowly but resolutely squeezed into his chest.

The guard screamed, and then his voice was gradually drowned out by the noise from behind. Finally, he stopped screaming and was like a specimen, hung on the tip of a spear and still being pushed forward.

Roger lay down on the stone wall near the upper part of the slope, holding a spear and stabbing down.

He couldn't see what he was stabbing.

He lifted it, plunged it down, lifted it up again, and plunged it down again, and every time he could feel the stagnation that penetrated his body.

Other slaves also followed Roger's example, lying on his stomach and piercing down.

The guards thrust their spears from bottom to top.

A slave's hand was pricked, and he cursed in pain, but his voice was drowned by the howling of ghosts and wolves below, and was so faint that it was almost inaudible.

Roger suddenly felt that the spear in his hand was pierced.

The slaves defending at the end of the slope shouted dryly: "Win, win."

Roger poked his head out and saw the guards pushing and shoving in a panic, but this time they were running down.

He saw a guard who was so crowded that he couldn't even move or turn around.

Roger saw that the guard's face was pale, and there was no madness in his eyes. His dull eyes reflected only fear and despair.

Roger was a little happy, but more puzzled.

He looked at the corpses on the slope. There were not many, and there were no important people.

He looked at the guards crying and shouting, giving up their spears and shields. He covered his eyes with his hands and ran back on the straight road. He fell down and crawled with his eyes closed.

So stampedes happened again and again.

But the guards ignored them, as there seemed to be a huge terror chasing them behind them, and they fled desperately.

But no one actually chased them.

Roger wanted to pursue him. He knew that this was the best time to expand his victory.

But he looked at the slaves on the wall, including Dulles, who were all pale, with sweat on their foreheads, their hands and feet were shaking unconsciously, and some were still retching.

People who are retching don't vomit anything. Maybe they have already vomited it all and just can't stop.

Roger found that all the slaves were looking at him, as if they were looking at a pillar.

Roger watched the guards disappear at the entrance of the village, looked at the straight road full of corpses and blood, and looked at the large pool of muddy blood at the entrance of the village.

Then Roger felt sick, and fear suddenly gripped him.

He wanted to vomit, and a wooden stick appeared in his mind. The broken tip of the stick was stained with white and red.

Roger gasped for air. He recovered, and the fear left him.

He is not a fledgling, he has face-to-face bloody experience.

Then Roger understood.

No matter whether they were guards or slaves, no one had ever experienced such a bloody scene.

They are all ordinary people. Ordinary people would be frightened when they see a complete corpse, not to mention the broken corpses and muddy blood on the road.

The slaves could persist because of the Jesus in their hearts and the Godfather in their eyes. Even so, some people couldn't bear it and went crazy.

The reason why the guards were able to persevere before was because they were inspired by victory.

Until they are frustrated and their inspiration disappears.

The pent-up fear suddenly emerged, and the guards collapsed.

Roger looked at the road covered with flesh and blood.

He thought, that is not a road, that is a wall, a wall made of flesh and blood.

Roger thought, this is victory?

But this is just his wishful thinking.

Roger heard Norton yelling and cursing on the other side of the wall, and heard the death screams of several guards.

Then, another figure appeared at the entrance of the village.

Norton himself led the team in.

He didn't walk fast, just slowly. The guards behind him followed slowly.

Roger could see that the guards were scared.

Their steps were hesitant and timid. But they still walked on the bloody road step by step.

Roger knew that just as he was the slaves' backbone, Norton was the guards' courage.

Roger knew why Norton was walking so slowly. He was letting his men get used to the blood.

Once the guards got used to it and charged forward again, Roger didn't think he and the slaves could stop them.

Roger knew there was only one way to stop Norton.

He understands that he can rely on no one but himself.

Fortunately, he knew Norton's weaknesses.

"Norton!" Roger stood up straight and shouted: "Let us duel like knights!"

Norton seemed interested in the suggestion.

Norton stopped the guards who were following him and stepped forward alone.

Norton stood still and pointed his sword at Roger:

"Come down and let me chop off your dog's head."

So Roger held a spear and walked slowly under the eager eyes of the slaves.

Norton did not take advantage of Roger's descent to launch a surprise attack.

He allowed Roger to come and stand in front of him.

Then Norton performed a knighthood.

He behaved quite well, and it was obvious that he had spent a lot of time practicing.

Roger didn't waste any time talking to Norton. He thrust his spear sharply.

The spear pierced the iron plate on Norton's chest leather armor, but did not penetrate.

Roger sheathed his spear.

Norton followed him like a shadow and rushed forward with a powerful chop.

Roger blocked with his spear.

The sword split the spear into two pieces.

Roger stepped back quickly, barely avoiding the sword edge that was about to disembowel him.

Roger threw away the unobstructed rear half of his spear and held the short spear in his right hand like a sword.

Norton stepped forward and slashed.

"Do you know the secret to getting recommended by knights?" Roger retreated again.

Norton's momentum obviously faltered.

Roger walked slowly around Norton with staggered steps.

From the corner of his eye he saw a corpse on the ground, and he kept saying:

"The secret to getting recommendations is the knight's collection." Roger said nonsense.

Norton chased after Roger and slashed, but his sword power lacked sharpness.

Roger dodged easily.

"Do you know why you can't be a knight?"

"I can! I can definitely become a knight!"

Norton became fierce, slashing and slashing wildly.

Roger stepped back, carefully avoiding the corpse.

"You are destined not to be a knight!"

"I am going to kill you!"

Norton's eyes were red, and he held swords in both hands, shouting wildly and striding forward.

He stepped on the body and stumbled.

Roger, who was bending his legs and bending his body, rushed forward suddenly,

Avoid Norton's crooked sword edge,

Put your left hand around Norton's neck,

He pressed his chest against Norton's left arm.

Head next to Norton's head,

"because,"

The short spear penetrated like a poisonous snake through the gap between the two pieces of leather armor on Norton's chest and back.

It was inserted diagonally into his chest from under the ribs along the soft waist.

"you are too fat."

Norton felt as if he had received an electric shock, and his whole body went stiff.

Roger twisted his wrist and pulled out the short spear.

Norton trembled, like an inflatable doll with a broken mouth, and slowly collapsed.
Chapter completed!