At the front of the Scarlet Sect is Viscount Gibran.

Having lost his left arm, he still looks burly and strong, riding on a tall horse, wearing a black and red robe, and letting his long gray hair flutter in the wind, with a very aristocratic chic.

And he also had a bright smile on his face, and there was a slight red glow in the depths of his eyes.

Confronting Kant.

He didn't feel like an enemy.

Because in his heart, the Baron Kant in front of him, as well as the seemingly large number of troops behind him, will become his sacrifice, at the foot of the Death Mountain, to complete his blood sacrifice to the supreme being!

Just like now, he Gibran is guiding this group of ignorant people into the trap he has set.

Why should he have hatred?

Thanks before it's too late!

Quietly waiting for Kant's troops to form up and look at the light cavalry that had completed the outflanking on both flanks, Gibran slowly raised his right hand and signaled his already restless soldiers to calm down.

Riding forward, he pulled out a scepter encrusted with red gems from his wide sleeve.

"Baron Kant."

Gibran nodded elegantly: "See you again." ”

There is still aristocratic etiquette.

It's just that Besture next to him squinted slightly, looked at this Gibran, and reminded Kant in a deep voice: "My lord, I feel that this guy is not normal, it's better to be careful." ”

"If he's normal, that's not normal." Kant chuckled and shook his head.

Ride forward as well.

Looking at Gibran in front of him, he also bowed his head and smiled: "Of course, meet again, Viscount Gibran." ”

"The weather was nice." Gibran chuckled: "Look what I have prepared for you, an unexpected surprise, if you don't mind, come and see, I am willing to introduce you to the scenery of the Death Penalty Mountain, and the supreme existence of my faith." ”

"The so-called Demon Lord?"

Kant also chuckled.

Tilting his head, he said calmly, "I'm interested." It's just that his voice became colder and colder: "If I can, I want to kill all of you in front of me, smear my path to the Death Penalty Mountain with blood, and then really kill your so-called supreme existence, the demon lord who should have been wiped out in history for a long time!" ”

"Ugh." Gibran was a little stunned, the hypocritical smirk of aristocratic tradition on his face had not yet dissipated, and there was a bit of anger in his eyes when he looked at Kant.

Viscount Gibran, who grew up in an aristocratic family.

But it's never been so direct.

Or rather, he had never seen such a direct speech, as blunt as mercenaries and bandits scolded the streets.

Even if he took refuge in the abyss demon, in his mind, the etiquette of the nobles was still deeply engraved in his heart, which had become a habit, and reflexive actions could not be erased at all.

It is even more unacceptable to Kant this undisguised threat!

"You've managed to get my wrath."

Gibran chuckled.

"Yes."

Kant nodded and waved to the side: "Then make them even angrier!" ”

"Shoot!" Bestur, who had already been prepared, shouted instantly, he didn't see the outside, and directly said what he wanted to say in his heart for Kant, Bestur had his own set of ideas for figuring out the thoughts of his superiors.

Although he was known for his rage, he was able to escape from the Kugit Khanate and make a name for himself on the continent of Calradia.

And the cunning that comes from the deepest part of my heart!

"Whoosh-"

Arrows are fired instantly.

500 veteran Rhodoc crossbowmen and 500 Livingston rangers gathered their ready-to-kill intentions on their steel crossbow bolts and cone-headed arrows, and rained them down like a cascade of enemies less than 300 meters ahead.

As a level 4 class, they are the elite of long-range infantry, and they are already qualified to kill and damage up to a range of 300 meters.

Thanks to the sophisticated weapons in hand.

And the craftsmanship!

The Dao Dao Stream Arrow flew by, and the target of these elite crossbowmen was the colleagues in the front row!

Those archers who were armed with short bows or hunting bows, all with languid expressions, obviously not wanting to fight for the Dark Red Sect, but who had been forcibly recruited here, offered the first feast!

"Puff puff puff—"

The sound of arrows entering the flesh couldn't help but sound.

In an instant, archers, dressed in leather armor or no armor at all, fell.

Patches of archers were harvested, but they could only bow their heads and bend down to dodge, or scatter in fear, because a simple hunting bow in their hands could shoot 50 meters is not bad!

The troops of the Duchy of Lion did not pay attention to the archers at all, which was the tradition of the nobles.

They believed that only the knights, composed of knights, were the strongest.

As for the crossbowmen.

It's just a little thing used by the lowly mercenaries.

As long as they are close to the knights, these soft junk weapons will not pose any threat at all, this is a habit developed in years of combat, after all, those mercenaries also do not have the funds to buy powerful bows and crossbows.

War bows and crossbows are delicate weapons, far from being comparable to cold weapons such as spears and swords!

This leads to:

At present, under the long-range attack of Kant's forces, the archers of the Dark Red Sect are dying in pieces.

In just a few moments, more than 200+ archers were killed on the spot, and most of them were wounded, having lost the ability to continue fighting, and their morale was low to the point of collapse!

"Kill!"

And Gibran showed no mercy.

Looking at the archers who were dodging, he turned his head and gave orders to the dark red cult fanatics in black robes.

As the long sword and the short axe appeared in the hands of those fanatics, they mercilessly slashed at the archers who dared to flee, and slaughtered those archers by force!

The blood grew thicker and thicker, and piles of corpses gathered in front of the battle.

It's all those innocent archers.

Except for a small number of routs that escaped.

Most of them had their heads cut off by the fanatics and thrown in front of the battle at will, forming a slaughterhouse-like picture, and the entire area began to fill the area with a strong smell of blood, which was extremely fishy.

The elite pikemen in the rear were a little shaken, and quite a few of them had already begun to retch, even commotion.

It can be subject to the deterrence of those fanatical believers.

No one dared to move.

Having successfully formed a formation, anyone's disturbance will cause a conspicuous commotion that can be easily detected.

When the time comes, being killed by those fanatical believers who have no reason at all, in the name of the Warlord, is simply deserved, and if they die, they will die in vain, and there will be no honor at all.

It's just that Kant frowned slightly, and reached out to signal the crossbowman to stop shooting.

"It's not normal."