"What's that? What is that? ”

The barbarians stopped attacking, and all they saw was the silver that whizzed across the streets.

The gravel on the street trembled slightly under the heavy sound of horses' hooves, and it was the hearts of the barbarian soldiers who trembled as they watched the silver-white legs that were getting closer and closer, and cold sweat covered their already pale faces.

"Oh my God, what the hell is this?"

Even lying on the corner of the street, Walkerrick couldn't believe what the scenery was in front of him, he had never seen such an army.

"Run! Come on! ”

Just as the silver knights raised their spears and roared in front of them, they came back from their surprise, and it was too late to call them away.

The neighing of the horses, the roar of the knights had drowned out their screams, and in an instant, only the sound of violent collisions was heard, and no one could survive such a collision.

The barbarians' ranks were dashed by the cavalry that charged in groups, the dense cavalry rifles tore apart the screaming and fleeing barbarians, and the heavy hooves of the horses did not know how many people and corpses were trampled into pulp.

Walcreek just lay on the side like a corpse, watching the dramatic transformation in front of him with cold eyes, and the barbarians who had just finished slaughtering the Romans in the city had just finished roaring, and in an instant they lost their original appearance under the trampling.

The cavalry from nowhere kept passing in front of Walker, and all the silver and white of their bodies was because of the heavy chain mail and plate armor on the horses and men.

Both men and horses, they were covered in heavy armor and could not even see their faces clearly, an army like this that Walcrick had never seen.

No wonder the barbarians were so frightened by this scene, and they were frightened by the knight in armor, and they were scattered alive.

The battle cries ceased, replaced by screams and cries, and the soldiers in front desperately tried to run back for their lives, while those behind were still desperate to cut off the head of a Roman.

The two sides were huddled together in the street behind the bridge, the soldiers who were retreating in front were crying, the soldiers rushing forward in the back were roaring, and the two sides were arguing and arguing.

The Roman cavalry struck from behind, the silver-gray knights, even though their bodies and vests were covered with the blood of the barbarians.

This made them look more like bloodthirsty devils, and the cavalry picked up speed once more, roaring in rage, raising their blood-soaked and flesh-stained rifles and ramming them into each other.

"Boom!"

It was like a giant hammer shattering a broken wall, and the shattered "stones" wailed and screamed and fell into the river with a massive splash.

"What's going on?"

Seeing that the soldiers on his front line were all routed, and from Attila's face was full of surprise, he felt incredible, very incredible, did the Romans still have a backhand? There was not much time left for him.

"My king, reinforcements from the Romans have arrived."

His subordinates came to his chariot and whispered the news to Attila, which was not good news.

"How many of them came?"

"Tens of thousands, like a flood, are getting closer and closer." The general didn't know how to describe it to Attila, but he reported to Attila in the simplest words he could say.

"Lucky for them."

Attila sighed lightly, and slammed the wooden board under his feet with the scabbard in his hand, making a "bang" sound, as if only in this way could he vent his inner unwillingness little by little, and the unwillingness that he could not say as a king.

"Who are they?"

"Flavies. Luga, Flavis. Aetius. ”

Attila's eyes instantly sharpened, and his entire hair stood up, like a rooster ready to fight, and his eyes were fixed on the beaten barbarian tribe in front of him.

"My king, isn't he, he needs us to help them..."

"No, my friend." Attila said coldly, "See what their gods can do for them, we must get out of here now, and we can't let the fortified walls around us become a prison cage for us." ”

After saying that, Attila's carriage slowly turned around, and the soldiers under his command also looked coldly at the barbarians struggling in the water, and were indifferent, and finally followed Attila's carriage and slowly withdrew from Orleans.

Eventually, a large number of heavily armed archers stood on both sides of the river, and they aimed their bows and arrows at the barbarians who were still struggling in the waters.

"Look, this is the punishment that the barbarians who invaded Rome deserve!"

The officers shouted cheers on the soldiers, taking the lead in loosening the tight bowstring, and then the soldiers roared to release the bowstring.

I heard the sound of the bowstring snapping like a tree being pulled and broken, and countless arrows roared out from all directions in an instant, filling it with countless screams and cries like the river Styx of hell, and the whole river turned bloody, and floated with dead corpses.

Now the barbarians retreated, strictly speaking, it was Attila who retreated, and Orleans finally retained.

Sitting on the street corner, Walklick always seemed to be forgotten, watching the soldiers come and go, and no one noticed the scarred hero, even if he handed him a sip of water.

He also chose to remain silent, no one knew how lost he was at this time, and he could only comfort himself: maybe they needed to care about bigger problems.

"Caesar, Attila withdrew from Orleans and retreated northward." Walcreek heard this, and he hurriedly followed the voice.

In a cleared street, a Roman in iron gray segmented armor, a gray wolfskin shawl on his shoulders, and a heavy, ornate purple cloak behind him walked unhurriedly, surrounded by Ananus and Aetius, and other officers, and the officer who delivered the news beside him was saying something to the man, who was separated from Walcreek by a group of soldiers, almost passing in front of Walcreek.

"Caesar?" Walkrick slightly repeats that he had just called "Caesar" to this richly decorated Roman, and that person must have been Augustus.

"Who is he?"

Walkrick stood up in pain and asked the soldier beside him.

"Caesar, Augustus of Eastern Rome, commander-in-chief of this confronting Attila."

"Oh my God!"

Walcreek clutched his head and looked at the fading back, he never expected to see the ruler of Rome here, and be at the forefront of the battlefield.

He endured the pain, dragging his tired body along the street and following closely behind the group, he was afraid that he did not see the face of Luga, the sacred face that belonged to Augustus, which he thought would be a sacred reward for him, and he always refused to give it up.

"So, are there any officers in Orleans?"

Luga and his party stopped, and he turned back to ask Ananus behind him.

"Oh Caesar, this, this—" Ananus seemed stumped.

"Centurion Walcreek, Centurion of the Patrol Force of the Walls of the Northern Orleans Garrison, salute you!"

At this moment, only a sonorous and powerful word was heard behind Ananus, and everyone turned around, only to see a man who was embarrassed and covered in blood.

His clothes and armor were already dirty, and only the deformed centurion horned helmet on his head showed his identity.

Despite his injuries, he stood straight in front of Luga.

"Walcreek, oh yes, faithful fellow." Ananus hurriedly pointed at Volcreek and said to Luga: "Caesar, yes, there are officers, a junior officer. ”

Seeing Walker's embarrassed appearance, the other officers couldn't help but cover their faces and snicker, but Luga looked Walkerrick up and down with a serious face, and then he took a water bottle from the waist of the guard officer next to him and handed it to Walker.

"Thirsty, drink it."

Walcreek was stunned for a moment, he looked at Luga, and then at the kettle handed over by Luga, his chapped lips pursed, and he was silent for a long time, and finally stretched out his trembling hands to take the kettle, opened the lid, and raised his head to swallow the water in the kettle.

"After drinking, bring the kettle to the Praetorian Guard to report, I need soldiers to serve me." Luga had a gloomy face all the time, and he just let go of this sentence and turned away, but when he heard the Waick in his ears, he understood that such cold words were already the greatest compliment to him!