Chapter 278: Fight (Part 2)

"How disappointed I should have expected."
Beiruf shook his head and sighed, his younger brothers pulled out huge guns from his waist.
Graco's guards have also gathered around their boss, neither side has done it, but they are all ready.
"You always say I am pretty!"
Grak spit, holding the battle axe in both hands.
"Now you will understand what it means."
They cautiously began to face the circle.
Grak's anger was obvious, spewing out of him like heat from flames, his breath sizzling with his throat.
Beirut is relatively more indifferent, but now he has the same tricks, because of his dignity and humiliation in front of his younger brother, and this is not the battle he is best at-this is a crude dispute provoked by an original student, and This foolish man is no better than the jump he raised.
"Waaaagh!"
Grak leaned back into the battle, this time slashing at his colleague with a roaring chain axe.
Beirut greeted with a double-edged blade and pushed the blow back in a burst of sparks.
After a while, they launched a pure wrestling, pushing their weapons in their hands to make the metal bite each other in the scream, and the revolving [tearer] confronted [punishment] and [oppression], neither side prevailed.
Seeing the real battle begin, the warriors of the blood axe roared to cheer, slammed the sword, and supported the boss with the noise.
The special warfare boys were motionless at first, but they finally responded to the development of the situation. Under the leadership of the leader, they quickly screamed back, and the voice of the competition with the butchers was louder.
"You always learn the bad appearance of shrimp."
Grak urged more power into the locked arm.
"What's in your head? Could it have broken down while you were still on the ground?"
Beirut pushed back without giving up.
"I can't hear what you want to say."
Then Beirut broke the stalemate and stepped back.
Grak was chasing after each other, and the two sides slammed each other. Their blades intersected in a sonorous sound with strength sufficient to break bones. Even if they heard the voices of the younger brothers, they did not show it.
The force of the violent blow was promoted by the intensified violence, and the speed and precision were reinforced by the mutual hatred that has been brewing so far but has blatantly exploded.
Grak is stronger than that, and he uses the advantages of weight and momentum to swing the Ripper violently, but Beiruf's agility is even better, breaking Graak's balance with tricky block and jab.
They hacked and hauled each other, spun, feinted, cut open military coats and furs, and dropped ornaments from the armor.
The impact of repeated attacks and defenses echoed throughout the Wang Ting,
The call for inspiration was getting stronger and stronger, and every brick was swelled from the hall. All the fighters in the presence of the Oak were considered to have gone through a hundred battles, and it was already commonplace to fight, but no one had witnessed their boss go all out.
Finally, they separated from the deep scars on the armor with heavy breathing.
Grak laughed, though the voice added a harsh, bloodthirsty tone.
"Can't you eat it, gunman!"
"This is just a boring game for me."
"I am too."
Beirut sneered at it.
"You treat everything as a game, that's why the boss sent me here-your kid is a crowd of people, if you don't tie their heads, you will fight a bunch of idiots."
"If only he could learn more from you."
Grak responded mockingly, lifting his chin at the same time, pointing to the black corpse on the ground.
Grak stepped forward again, his chainsaw axe spinning.
"But he's not here, right? Only you, me, and this axe."
"What an ugly sword thing."
Beirut stared at it cautiously.
"Just like its owner."
Grak pounced and pointed the axe low at Beluf's leg, but the opponent slammed it with both hands.
The next second, Grak twisted his blade upward to overwhelm the other side, so the two sides once again stalemate at the palace promenade, and was urged to ride a tiger by the support of the two parties.
Beiruf was not about to get entangled. He dragged the blade across the jagged edge of the battle axe and pushed it back at the last minute. Grak’s swing angle was too high, and the tearer was twisted away from him in a crackling sound. Mastery.
He fled his hand to grab it back, but Beiruf had already flew it away, causing it to go away during rolling and impact, so that the boys on the route were forced to give way.
Perhaps Beiruf thought that this was the end, so he didn't swing enough to penetrate Grak's chest, but the other party didn't think so.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!!"
Grak roared and rammed his entire body into Beiruf as a weapon.
The two of them slanted straight into the nearest pillar-the pure stone pillar was one meter in diameter.
Beirut was blasted into it, so that the fragments scattered, and Grak held him with furious old punches, hitting the military cap fixed on the opponent's head.
The dizzy and stupefied Beiluu fought back awkwardly with his weapon, but his move was so weak that he didn't make a hit~EbookFREE.me~Grak grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him up, pushing him hard in a furious roar Lost his body across the promenade.
Beiruf slammed his back on the ground and slid another distance on the stone floor.
Ruth began to pursue, still unarmed, and when passing by his dropped weapon, he reached out and grabbed it.
As Beiluu stood up, the two were once again in a ball, axe to knife, one Ouke weapon against another Ouke weapon.
The blow came faster and more violent, and finally ripped open the damaged armor and finally saw blood again.
The blood as thick as grease spilled spots on the stone floor, marking their footprints throughout the promenade and into the front hall. The onlookers were already deterred by this persistent violence and could only follow.
The two warlords hit a series of heavy gates all the way, leaving the chasing them behind them, without even paying attention to their surroundings.
Outside the door is the open sky, a viewing platform built for King Zun at the top of the palace.
When they reached the open ground, the sky above them welcomed with a thunderous whisper.
They parted again and gasped heavily, their shoulders lowered.
"I was a waste of time!"
Beirut's breath was rough like the furnace's bellows, and Grae opposite him was no better.
"I have so much time."
There was a rare cunning in Grak's eyes.
"Gunfire guy, don't think I don't know your little secret. What do you want to do with the shrimps you grab? What do you want to do with the two or five guys every day? The boss didn't explain these things. "
"I have no secrets!"
Beirut gritted his teeth and started again, rushing across the platform like a storm and splitting his double blades towards the battle axe.