Chapter 913: Blood-giving ceremony

The tauren warrior, blessed by the power of totem, exudes a dazzling bronze metallic luster.
But the fierce armor draped around the body, and it seems to have biological activity, slowly creeping with an incomparably strange rhythm, exuding an aura ten times more brutal than totem beasts.
Even Ye Zi's brother, who could never be overthrown, let alone retreat, started to tremble in the face of the totem warrior.
The elder brother drew the knife forcefully, trying to pull out the bone blade, and attack again from a different angle.
The bone blade was bitten tightly by the opponent's muscles and armor.
This slowly creeping totem armor, like having a peculiar life and a strong appetite, swallowed the bone blade in his brother's hand inch by inch.
In the end, even the handle of the knife was "eaten" by it.
If it weren't for my brother to let go in time, maybe even both arms would be eaten by the totem armor!
The brother who lost his weapon also seemed to have lost all his strength and courage.
In the face of the gap between mortals and gods and demons, my brother was completely desperate.
Fear was like a transparent steel nail, nailed in from the elder brother's sky spirit cover, all the way through to the soles of the feet, nailing him firmly in front of the tauren warrior, unable to even move.
The tauren samurai slowly raised his right hand and spread out four fingers that were thicker than the arm of the leaf.
"Snapped!"
He slapped it down.
Without any tricks, it is the simplest and rude, like a slap in the face of an adult teaching a child.
Large masses of plasma burst out of his brother's face and chest.
Hundreds of wounds that had just crusted burst again.
The amazing strange force squeezed the last drop of blood out of his body.
My brother volleyed a dozen times.
Smashed heavily in front of the leaves.
His appearance became more miserable than the picker who fell off the cliff.
Half of the head and the entire chest were deeply sunken.
Bai Sensen's bone stubble pierced dozens of skins and came out from all over his body.
His neck bends back strangely.
The sharp broken bones cut through the trachea and blood vessels, leaving only a thin layer of flesh and blood between the brain and the cavity, still sticking together.
But there was neither breath nor blood gushing out from the fracture.
The elder brother stared at Ye Ye with this terrible appearance.
There was no more anger in the bloodshot and shattered eyeballs.
There are no more arcs and stars that usually shine.
In the bottomless throat, the elder brother's undead said weakly to Ye Zi:
"Run, leaf, run..."
Being stared at by such an older brother like this, Ye Zi lost all his courage.
Not only lost the courage to wield a knife and the enemy desperately.
Also lost the courage to run away.
Just now, the huge steel nail named "Fear", which had been nailed tightly to my brother, was also nailed in from the Tianling cover of the leaf, nailing him tightly in a pool of cold blood.
The tauren warrior, wearing a totem armor, strode forward.
Ye Zi closed his eyes and waited to die.
But waited and waited, the expected pain and darkness did not strike.
Instead, he felt a huge, scorching body like a steel statue just cast, lowering the height in front of him.
Ye Zi opened his eyes.
It was discovered that the bull head warrior would restore the helmet engraved with the ancestral pattern of the ancestor spirit into a totem, and then inhale it again into a gorgeous tattoo on his face.
He showed the face that was half hideous, and the other half more hideous.
But at this moment, on this extremely ugly face, there is not the slightest bit of cruel malice.
It is solemn and pious.
The tauren warrior took back the totem armor on his right arm.
The battle armor on his left arm squirmed and condensed into a horned blade.
The left hand's sharp edge slips gently on the base of the right palm.
The blood that smelled of cattle immediately flowed out, and was poured on the elder brother carefully by the bull head warrior. ‘
The tauren was pouring very seriously.
The clutch that killed my brother just now, at this moment, poured it all over every wound on my brother's body from head to toe, and helped him evenly apply it.
Finally, the Bull Head Warrior dipped his blood again, and barely found a fairly clean place on his brother's muddy forehead, drawing a hoof-like pattern with strokes.
Although the fingers are thick and clumsy.
But he draws attentively and meticulously.
During the whole process, he kept his head down, neither looking at the leaves close at hand, nor scanning the surroundings, the slaughter continued.
It seems that for the tauren warrior at this moment, there is no more important thing in the world than drawing hoof patterns.
"This is... the blood-giving ceremony!"
Ye Ye remembered that he and his elder brother had heard the old idiots say that the superiors of the Turan can bestow the sacred blood containing the divine power of the ancestor spirits to fight bravely and please the inferiors of the ancestral spirits.
It means using the courage and glory of the superior to help the inferior to expel the despicableness and cowardice in the depths of the bloodline.
Since then, the subordinates have got rid of their past identities and ethnic groups.
Qualified to join the upper clan as a servant soldier, embarking on a more dangerous and glorious journey.
After listening to the old silly remarks, Ye Zi and his brother climbed to the tallest mandala tree more than once, wrapped themselves with the widest leaves, resting their heads on their arms, swaying in the breeze, thinking about it. One day, he will be able to obtain the glory of the superiors, get rid of the humble "rat people" status, become a noble clan warrior, and even a totem warrior blessed by the ancestor spirit.
Unexpectedly, his brother realized his dream so quickly.
Not only got rid of the cheapest blood.
It also joined one of the five major clans of Turan, the "Bloodhoof Clan" with the largest body and the most powerful.
Unfortunately, it is the identity of the corpse.
Ye Zi didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
He knew that the tauren would not kill him.
When he was sober and sober, he once told him that the purpose of totem warriors was to please the ancestor spirits.
Therefore, when they enter the "totem frenzied" state, they will definitely challenge a strong enough, at least brave enough opponent.
Victory or defeat, life and death, are not important.
What matters is courage, courage, blood, and glory.
The reason why the tauren warrior summoned the totem armor just now was not because he couldn't beat his elder brother in the unarmored state.
-Even if you don't summon the totem armor, even if you don't dodge or dodge or block, your elder brother still cuts the bones of the tauren warrior with a superb skill.
As long as the other party gets serious, with two fingers, he can break his brother's neck.
But the other party probably didn't expect that in a small mouseman mountain village, someone would dare to swing a knife at him.
His brother's courage moved him, and he used the totem armor to give his brother the honor he deserved.
By the same token, a tauren warrior wearing a totem armor will not kill Ye Zi.
Killing such a desperate and waiting young man, instead of pleasing the ancestor spirit, is tarnishing the power of the sacred totem.
The current Ye Zi didn't even have the qualification to die in the hands of the tauren warrior.
The teenager who realized this had no joy in the rest of his life.
On the contrary, he felt that the undead of his mother and brother, as well as An Jia and others in the prisoners, were staring at him.
Their eyes were like chains shot from the abyss of the undead, tightly binding Ye Zi's hands and feet, dragging them into the strongest darkness.
…
"Go, go, you humble mice, don't want to die without a place to be buried, just walk over here!"
Three days later.
On the "Bison River", the most turbulent tributary of the Turan River, close to a waterfall with a drop of hundreds of meters and turbulent water, a group of rat people prisoners lined up across the river.
The bloodhoof warriors wield spiked oxtail lashes and drew the fearful rat people into their flesh. While using the most vicious curses, torturing the souls of the captives, they laughed, as if watching a scene. A wonderful show.
The rat people captives had their hands behind their backs, and they were tightly bound by tendon ropes.
The beef tendon contracted in the water, deeply embedded in the flesh and blood of the captives, and the pain made them cold and sweaty, and there was no way to maintain their balance in the wet and slippery torrent.
Moreover, the captives did not advance alone, but ten in a row, fixed by the straight and flexible mandala branches, like a frozen caterpillar.
When the village was torch, almost all the captives suffered injuries of varying severity.
Three days of sleepless long-distance travel, all the most rugged mountain roads, the bloodhoof masters only gave them a little bit of rotten and hard aged mandala dried fruit to eat.
Many of the prisoners' wounds were purulent, and they were dying.
More people are hungry, weak in hands and feet, and weak.
Theoretically, in the Bison River above the waterfall, on the waist-deep river bed, there are blocks of raised boulders that run through the two banks and act as stepping stones for them to step on.
The problem is, that is the "waist" of the "Qi" bloodhoof warrior.
Most of the rat people are several heads or even half shorter than the bloodhoof warriors.
For bloodhoof warriors, the waist-deep river water can often not reach the chest, neck or even the top of the rat people.
In addition, the stepping stones were wet and slippery due to the impact of the water.
The water above the waterfall is particularly turbulent.
The deafening roar, like a warhammer studded with spikes, continued to bombard the captives' skulls, making the rat people, who were already dizzy, feel more and more spinning.
As soon as many prisoners stepped into the Bison River, they staggered and fell into the cold water.
A string of ten prisoners, as long as two or three were rushed into the river, the others were often untenable, dragged down and fell to the waterfall together, fell to pieces in the screams, and disappeared without a trace.
The bloodhoof warriors didn't care, and it was no pity that the prisoners they had worked so hard to catch were just like this.
Just swiping the oxtail whip desperately, urging the remaining prisoners to cross the river.
"On the other side of the Bison River is the main city of the Bloodhoof Clan, Pointe Noire!
"The city of Pointe-Noire is a place of heroes, a place of sacredness, and a place of glory. It must not be contaminated by the unclean blood of the cowardly.
"You humble mice, you want to go to Pointe-Noire, get rid of your dirty blood, and participate in the Battle of Glory. There is only one way, and that is to walk over here!"