Chapter 135

Through the smoke and dust, he walked towards soshyan with his shoulders down, as if he were going through the bite of a snowstorm.

A dark cloak was fixed behind his neck by a bone clasp. The huge skull and sharp teeth of a dead beast formed his right shoulder armor, which looked like the Talon Zerg.

Without helmet, Mazar showed the vicissitudes of life with vertical and horizontal gullies, like a weathered cliff, with a cluster of gray white short hair on his head.

He had no beard, his cheekbones were very high, the tattoos on his chin were like an open skull and jaw, and his iron gray eyes were shining like armor, showing a frightening spirit.

His soldiers were equally wild, and their weapons and armor were covered with all kinds of bones pulled from the body.

These undead soldiers followed the leader like birds flying in the airflow brought by the head geese. Many people were not even sure whether the gods of death in plastic steel armor would stop.

But in any case, this naked provocative gesture made all star Knights angry.

Later, soshyan's calm voice was conveyed to every soldier's ear.

"Hold on, it's just bluff, that's all."

As he said, the gods of death stopped and surrounded them in a semicircle.

"Commander of the star Knight war, soshyan Alexei."

Mazar shouted, his voice loud and harsh, like a cold predator.

"My name is Mazar, the head of the ascetic War Regiment and the Lord of the temple of death."

The next second, his sickle fell.

Soshyan also pulled out his sword at the same time, faster than most people's naked eyes could catch, like a cloak like a cloud.

Mazar greeted with a giant sickle.

In the sound of the collision between gold and iron, a shock wave shot out from around the two people, rolled up a piece of ash and mixed with dust.

Seeing the battle leader being attacked, the star Knights tried to do it one after another, but sol stopped them.

The soldiers of the bitter Walker regiment were always indifferent and seemed to be used to such scenes.

"Lord Mazar, is this your way to be a guest?"

Soshyan hissed and repulsed the attack again.

"This is the etiquette of a warrior."

Mazar hummed and blocked the close blade.

Although he held such a heavy and ruthless, his movements were no slower than soshyang, and each attack was very solid, close and steady.

"If it gets your respect."

Soshyan laughed and waved his sword skillfully again.

Confronting a war commander is a challenge he has long sought but can't meet. Compared with those battles in the past, they are simply insignificant.

While sol was practicing fencing, he always longed for an opponent who could sharpen his skills.

With a low roar, soshyang rushed in close, whirled with one foot, and the Shengyan sword suddenly stabbed Mazar in the abdomen.

But just before he succeeded, the giant sickle turned sideways at a tricky angle.

The two weapons drew a string of sparks in the collision and drag.

"Too slow."

Mazar mocked, then clenched the sickle with both hands and waved it at a very fast speed.

Knowing that the other party was serious, soshyang also took out 12 points of attention to deal with it.

The fierce battle between the two battle leaders seemed to everyone that the frost blade was flying and the thunderbolt was hidden in it, but they could not see the true appearance.

Lord Mazar's every blow still has the potential to split the mountain and the sea, but soshyan is like a surfer in the waves, walking calmly in the rough waves with elegant "dance steps".

This is the "sword dance" developed by the swordsmen of Wang tingzhiren 10000 years ago. Few people have mastered it so far.

Soshyan's study time is still short. In Sol's opinion, he can't even play one tenth of the sword dance.

But there is more than enough to deal with such an offensive.

The key to sword dance is to bring the other party into their own rhythm, take the sword tip as the center, constantly drag the other party's attack with the moving track of the semicircle, and always keep the other party under the threat of their own sword tip.

"Young man, swordsmanship is good. Who taught you?"

Although he has been led by soshyan, Mazar doesn't seem to worry. He still breathes rhythmically and maintains a strong desire for attack.

It seems that this battle will soon become an endurance race.

"Our regiment instructor."

Soshyang whispered, waved Shengyan and split out a deadly sweep.

Mazar caught the blow, and his heavy boots sank into the ground about half an inch.

When he failed to hit, soshyan immediately stopped and launched a series of rapid blade offensives while moving along the semicircle track.

Shengyan sword once swayed from Mazar's heavy shoulder armor, which made him shake.

With the passage of time, soshyang's blade became more and more violent, and the sword body hit the giant sickle and clanked.

"I'll teach you now."

The legendary hero of the Empire, after making a dull laugh, began to boost his spirit and approached soshyan with stable efficiency.

He strode close, steadied his feet, and continued to make extremely destructive attacks.

The collision and rebound of the two weapons can only be seen as the residual shadow is twisted, and the sparks from the two blades flash in the air. Every action proclaims the majesty of the angel.

Soshyan was surprised to find that his dance steps were destroyed, just like a barbarian suddenly broke into a banquet.

The wild and fierce attack soon tore up the false mask of civilization.

"Fancy skills can be used, but don't ignore our own strength!"

Mazar quickened his pace and the sickle fell like thunder.

Soshyan took the blow hard, and the tip of the sickle was only a few inches from his head.

"Taught."

With that, he turned around and flew around Mazar, which was almost difficult to detect how he kept his balance.

When they collided again, the crash was deafening.

The top leaders of the two regiments fought each other and did their best in each attack.

Unconsciously, they have been fighting for half an hour.

Soshyan continued to fight, but he needed space to play his speed. He must break free from the shackles, grasp the initiative of the battle in his own hands and break free from Mazar's suffocating entanglement.

Then he summoned up all his strength, slammed the sickle and pulled away.

Mazar held high the shadow of the giant sickle on the floor, and the broken cloak was like the terrible God of death in human mythology.

Soshyan stood where he was, gasping, poised and waiting for the enemy to move.

There is only one chance, a perfect chance to bypass the sickle at a precise angle.

It must be perfect. If it is not perfect, there is no room for turning back.

But to everyone's surprise, Mazar didn't move.

He put down his sickle and a faint cough came from the neck guard. Soshyan soon realized that it was a kind of laughter.

"Enough, enough."