"Who's laughing!" Soon, Yaggie was standing on the top of the tower and let out an angry roar. Behind him, Bey and the slaves looked at each other, indicating that the answer was obvious.

Aggie stomped his boots on the brick platform of the window, and the dust fell from the dust, and then the slaves stepped on it, and pulled the iron cable of Patriarch John to creak, and Prajit of the city road below was so frightened that he hurriedly hugged his head and ran away, but the Patriarch was undaunted, his hands were pulled by the iron cables, and slowly rubbed the wall up, and his withered and thin arms were bloodless, but he was still chanting a high-pitched praise to the Lord:

This is the feast of the mountaintop,

Covered with blood like my miserable and shining thorns,

The world is my sorrow, and God's Mary is sorrowful!

Then the unkempt patriarch was dragged into the tower, and the Turkic slaves beat him violently, whipping his back and hair with horsewhips, and the patriarch rolled to the ground, shrunk his body, and his hair and dust flew all over the ground, "Don't beat him!" Aggie stroked his long white beard, drank it very majesticly, and then put his boots on the Patriarch's neck, "Feed the wild acorns to this unscrupulous and ungrateful fellow!" Let him enjoy the unclean pig-like diet! ”

Under the horse-rejecting walls on three sides of the bridgehead, the offensive and defensive battles have also reached a white-hot situation, and the two-handed swordsmen of Germany are still in a diagonal formation, swearing to defend the frontal horse-rejecting walls and trenches, killing the Turks who are constantly pounced, and they are mostly killed and wounded by locust-like arrows, while on the other side, the Futuis soldiers and heavily armed Turkic warriors have lined up, or pulled the gate, or held thorns and tree branches, climbed over the wall, and entered the inner enclosure of the bridgehead.

Eyes under helmet and turban. Looked around in horror: but where the entrance was connected to the inner enclosure, there were three more walls, and a narrow and crooked passage, and the sides were also full of thorns, and the figures were again crowded, and arrows and stones were shot down and fell. The slaughter trap of monster blood was formed, which was the "slaughter pit" set up at the entrance of the fortress by the Crescentists, but now it was learned by the Guardian Brigade, and at the end it was a fire pot mixed with asphalt and brimstone, which burned along the walls, and then a large number of Futuis soldiers ran out of the entrance fence with the flames, like a herd of wild beasts that had been hunted and frightened. Then they fell in the trenches or died on the edges, not to mention the heavily armored Turkic warriors, because the armor was not conducive to escaping, and they were all shot and burned in the inner walls, and almost no one could escape.

The bloody battle became more and more intense, inside and outside an earthen wall, both sides were picking up and throwing fire pots at each other, and life and death were a matter of moments. And there were constantly dark holes pierced by spears, piercing the Futois soldiers who were clinging to them through the abdomen. The other party often just crawls and crawls, and then the whole body twitches, and slowly hangs down the body, never moving again. Seeing this, the soldiers who followed swarmed forward, holding several spears at the same time, and stabbed them into the hole. Until blood oozes out.

On the other side of the bridge, in the brigade camp, Merlot looked solemn, looked at the battle at the bridgehead not far away, and then raised his hand to give orders one after another.

"A hundred Italian veterans will be reinforced."

"One hundred more reinforcements, and the rest of the Guardian Brigade will be brought in."

"Send the servants of the Guardian Brigade with axes and slings to protect the bridgehead."

Melo gradually felt that the teams thrown out of his hand were also like Zeno chess that was flying out of the plate, and there were fewer and fewer, but this was a good thing for the chess game, but not necessarily for the battle situation.

It was not until half an hour later that Peter the hermit himself rode on a donkey to the pilgrims' camp, and once again inspired and mobilized nearly a thousand stronger men, armed with crude weapons, many even carrying pickaxes and sickles, to run to Merlot's camp, and then crossed the bridge and added to the bridgehead, which was now full of corpses inside and outside the walls of the bridgehead, and Branas himself raised his sword and fought with the swarming Turkic soldiers, all of whom fought and rolled in pools of blood and corpses.

Sansadonias watched helplessly at the brutal battle that was close at hand, but all he could do was to keep throwing his own soldiers pouring out of the city gates, just like Merlot, into this flesh-and-blood furnace.

Finally, in the dust raised by the soldiers' steps, Sansadonias sadly saw old men with gray hair, and lame disabled people, shouting scripture slogans, and rushing towards the bridgehead.

"No, no, my father and his city are no more." Amid the noise and shouting, Sansadonias, armed with a horsewhip, watched the scene with a pale face, and the entire battlefield from the city gate to the bridgehead was densely covered with miserable corpses, and his team was once again defeated in the ninth charge of its fortress.

On the top of the tower, the patriarch's hands were handcuffed to the foot of the pillar, his head was on the plate, he really gobbled it up, laughed, and ate the wild acorns in between, Yaji took two steps back, leaned on the pillar, and then broke out in a cold sweat, and turned to look at the battlefield of the bridgehead rejection wall below.

Countless small, ant-like soldiers, black, fighting back and forth in the flames, and the trenches that surrounded them had become a red blood-stained ribbon, filled with all kinds of dead bodies, and the blood was still pouring out from under their bodies, and at the gates of the city, countless Franks in shining armor, riding tall horses and holding sharp swords, swarmed in.

Then the pupils of Aggie were soaked in fire and blood, and the rest of his cheeks and face quickly turned blue-gray, mixed with a little surging of qi and blood, and the beard on his sides and chin instantly grew old, and he saw that even if it was a very small silhouette, looking down from the tower, he still saw that the Franks were in the saddle, constantly raising their arms violently, and then quickly pulling them down, and with the strength and momentum of their swords, they continued to slash and slaughter the dead soldiers he sent to besiege the bridgehead, and then the Flemish people with terrifying halberds, who had also joined the elite troops of the warband Yagi, now completely deprived of their bravery and glory, and they let out a woman's scream, and the Gawain troops, reinforced by the Franks and the bridge, were divided, annihilated, slaughtered, and in the rolling dust, many were crushed and driven to the Falfa River, where they had previously flaunted their might and ambushed the pilgrims, but now they were rewarded for themselves - the hideous Flemish people, and the spearmen of the Guardian Brigade, who used this group as living targets, halberd and spear, They all pierced and killed by the river, and the blood and waves continued to rise in Yaji's eyes, and then turned into blood and tears, and flowed down. (To be continued.) )