People are not afraid of being in a difficult situation, but are afraid of having no direction.

So the Palathus needed a bridge, even though Seckle had sent messengers to cross the river for help.

Building bridges is not only to "cross the river", but also to inject hope into the soldiers of the army.

There is nothing in the world that is more desperate than the end of the road.

The cold river Styx is standing in front of you, and the Palatus people have nowhere to go and no way to go.

I wanted to turn my head and fight to the death, but I found that there was no enemy - the Hurds didn't fight them head-on.

The white lion is like a hunter who surrounds wild animals on a cliff, waiting patiently for the enemy to be crushed by hunger and despair.

The morale of the army was disintegrating, and before reinforcements arrived to rescue the siege, the Palatus had already failed to defeat him.

Montane Centurion's bridge construction plan was difficult, but it didn't matter.

Because what the Palatu army urgently needs is not bridges, but hope.

Just as the drowning man caught a wooden board, there are only three things in the eyes of the Paratu people: bridge, bridge, and fucking bridge.

The carpenter took the engineer officers to shuttle through the forest to find suitable materials for bridge construction projects.

The straightest and longest good materials are circled with red paint, and they will be used as bridge piles.

Next-class wood is marked with black paint and can be sawed into wooden boards for laying bridge decks.

As for the small trees and shrubs that have not yet grown, they are all used to burn charcoal.

Anyone who had used hammers and anvils was pulled away, and senior blacksmiths like Berryon were no exception.

The Jeska Brigade lost its famous chef - Winters lived a life of sucking water again, but the Palatu army obtained a master craftsman who could lead more than a dozen labourers.

The seized weapons were reheated, folded, and forged; the excess armor was melted into molten iron and poured into sand molds,

The only charcoal maker in the army became a treasure, but fortunately this craft is not difficult to learn.

In addition to proposing a bridge building plan, Winters also made a small contribution.

Adopting Winters' suggestion, the Fifth and Sixth Corps imitated the structure of the Third [Great Vinetta] Corps when they built the Guzhu Road in Chiyi Island, and also formed the [Bridge Building Command].

The command center is personally responsible by General Sekler, and all resources that can be concentrated in the army are concentrated in this temporary department, and then coordinated, allocated and commanded.

As for Winters, he just named his command center and still took his militia to work as usual.

Some of the army were more professional engineers and artillery officers than him, and Winters did not continue to point fingers.

Inspiration is like a layer of gauze paper. He poked a small hole in the paper, and others repaired the rest.

...

The not-so-lucent forest was cut out of a clearing, and the militia were waving their sharp axes and expanding the scope of the clearing.

"Dong."

"Dong."

This is the sound of an axe blade chopping on the trunk, and it never stops for a moment.

"Be careful! It's over!" Someone shouted at the top of his lungs: "It's over over!"

"Down!" The militia who heard the shouting also shouted: "Downside!"

This is both a reminder and a fight between each other.

A fir tree with a crown of more than ten meters high looks like a drunk man walking on the night road, slowly falling towards the open space.

Accompanied by the "crunch" sound of sore teeth, the fir trees fell faster and faster until they fell heavily on the ground and fleeing the dust that soared into the sky.

Three militiamen came over with their axes and began to clear the branches of the fir trees.

In the end, the fir tree would only have a clean trunk left, and would be dragged to the camp by a special carriage.

More than ten meters high are not considered a towering tree, but it is a rare wood on the wasteland.

After the fir tree fell to the ground, the sound of "dongdong" logging sounded again.

Cutting trees is a very hard job, and those who are strong and strong cannot do it.

If the militia work for one day, their shoulders will swollen high on the second day.

It would be easier if there was a saw, but the army was missing a saw, so the main tool for logging is still an axe.

The rapid sound of hooves was getting closer and closer, and a cavalry with green tassels rushed into the logging woodland.

The militia in the forest were all working hard, and no one paid attention to the cavalry.

The commander searched for a while, but he didn't see the officers, so he had to shout and ask, "Centurion Montane? Are Centurion Montane?"

"Will you hide somewhere and go lazy?" The messenger was disappointed and couldn't help but feel a little contempt: "What blood wolf? It's just that."

As the Palatus devoted all his efforts to the bridge construction project, the reputation of the [Blood Wolf] who proposed this plan also spread to the entire army.

The soldiers of Paratu have all heard of the "glorious deeds" that are difficult to distinguish between true and false by this champion centurion, and everyone is rushing to witness the true appearance of the Blood Wolf.

The messenger also fought for a while before he could get the opportunity to send orders to the Blood Wolf.

The call of the messenger was covered by the sound of cutting down trees, and no one paid attention to him.

So he rode his horse to the edge of the logging field and wanted to ask someone to ask for questions.

The messenger saw a tall militia at a glance.

The man was half a head taller than the others, wearing a coarse cloth clothes, and was dealing with an oak tree.

He raised his axe high and swung it down hard.

Every time the axe blade hits the tree trunk, the thick oak trees that are held together will tremble violently.

It was a cold winter, but the churning white hot steam came out from the man's cuffs and collar like a boiling pot.

The messenger walked to the tall militia and asked impatiently: "Hey! Where is your centurion blood wolf?"

The tall militia put down his axe and asked, "What's the matter with him?"

The messenger scolded: "You are qualified to ask about military information? Take me to find him."

"Blood Wolf, I've never seen it." The tall militia pulled out the towel stuffed into his belt and wiped his face, and said slowly: "Wentes Montagne, I am."

"Dong."

"Dong."

"Dong."

The sound of cutting trees is constantly changing.

The messenger took out a roll of painted letters and delivered them with both hands: "This is the order given to you by Zhuqiao Headquarters, sir."

"Thank you." The centurion took the letter, uncovered the paint seal, and glanced casually.

The messenger calmed down and looked at him quietly. He finally had the opportunity to see the true face of the legendary blood wolf.

It seems that there is nothing special, not particularly strong, not particularly thin, just a little taller.

Apart from a thin gold chain hanging on his neck, he did not wear any decorations.

This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! But it is very special, the kind that the messenger cannot say. He stood with respect.

"Do you want a receipt?" asked the centurion.

The messenger company waved his hands: "No, no."

"Okay, I have received the order." The centurion raised the letter in his hand: "Thank you for your hard work, go back."

The messenger stepped onto the saddle. He saw the blood wolf put the letter in his pocket and picked up the axe again.

A shout came from a distance: "Be careful! It's over!"

The militia in the logging field echoed: "It's over!"

"It's over!" The blood wolf swung his axe and chopped the tree trunk one by one.

As soon as the messenger left, two more riders rushed into the logging field like strong wind.

"Not good!" one of the riders shouted: "The Hurds are here!"

...

Winters used lysis surgery in the morning to break more than a dozen trees, and the phantom pain did not subside until the afternoon.

As soon as the commander left, he heard Angru's panic shout: "The Hurds are here."

The militiamen threw down their work and ran to the tents where weapons and armor were stored.

Red Mane ran all the way to Winters, and Angelo jumped out of the saddle and said unhurriedly: "Sir, the Hurds are here!"

"Don't worry, talk slowly." Winters' head hurt even more: "Where is it? How much has it come? How is the battle?"

"The carriage carrying the wood was robbed!"

"How many Hurds are there?"

"Twenty or so!"
To be continued...