87_87643.

The Light is not very effective against ordinary humans, at best it is just a sign of its own divine majesty, and it is usually not as intimidating as painting a few fake scars on one's face.

Thankfully, the increase in strength and speed is real.

The only way to deal with the wolf pack tactics was to stock up on the body and distribute it reasonably, and the two paladins were quite experienced in distributing the body consumption between each other, but despite this, the previous almost continuous week of tracking had already stretched them a little stretched.

Custer jumped deftly and unleashed deadly arrows, often before the first arrow hit the target, the second arrow had already been drawn and hooked, each arrow accurately hitting the target's eye, as if Custer would never aim for anything other than the eye.

"Do you have enough arrows, what if you run out?" Jossen is a noble knight with a reputation as a socialist.

Custer pulled the last arrow from his arrow pocket, this time choosing his right eye.

A strong kobold roared and rushed over, and a thief next to him, under the cover of the kobold, also took a spear and stabbed him in front of Custer, and he actually had time to call out to his companions: "The archer's melee ability must be very weak, this guy has already shot all the arrows, everyone go ......"

As the thief spoke, Custer drew his short sword, which was slightly longer at his waist, and stabbed it into the kobold's mouth, the tip of which emerged from the back of the kobold's head, and glistened through the bloody and cerebral flesh of the sword, glistening in the faint afterglow of the sunset.

As the thief said the second sentence, Custer drew his dagger and the kobold pounced, and with a deft leap of his hand, he dodged the spear stabbed by the thief, and with a wave of his arm, the dagger burst through the air and pierced through the chest of another approaching kobold next to him, and stuck it in the head of a dwarf behind the kobold.

Before the thief's last word "ah" could be spoken, Custer had already pulled out the slightly shorter short sword at his waist, inserted it into the thief's mouth and stirred it, and the thief's tongue turned into a bloody and blurred meat sauce, and the word "ah" naturally could not be shouted.

Before the thieves had fallen, Custer had already pulled out an arrow stuck in the eye socket of a corpse next to him, and then with a light backflip, it landed next to the dead dwarf, and then pulled out the short sword stuck in the dwarf's head, and looked up, the thieves had unconsciously given him a vacant space, and the idiot thief's evaluation of the archer's combat effectiveness had been completely proven to be nonsense.

By the way, in mid-air, Custer had already shot the arrow that was drawn back, and as for whether he missed it, he knew by guessing.

"You'd better worry about your own business, your companion doesn't seem to have much strength. "Custer did not make any gestures of pride, probably because he belonged to the proudest of peoples.

"She's better than me. Qiao Sen looked at Miria's sturdy back and said with a wry smile.

And Milia is still using the corpses of the enemy to build up the self-confidence and will that she once lost, she has now killed not so gracefully, and even a little carried away, the minions of the previous servants are gradually overwhelmed by Miria's momentum, and the three of them gradually approach the center of the circular complex.

Hoffman is pulling out his beard.

He tilted his head sideways, the green tendons on his neck, which were almost thicker than his head, burst out, and a few distinct stubbles were irregularly supported like cacti on the Gobi, and he was pulling a slightly yellowish curly hair with his fingers twice as thick as a normal person, grinning downward, as if that beard had some deep hatred for him.

He tried several times, but the beard was just as persistent in playing hide and seek with him. In fact, even if each beard was as thick as a pig's bristle, it was still too thin for Hoffman, and his fingers could bend a gold coin lightly, but it was another matter to grab the beard from his chin and pluck him off.

"Bosses—they—"

A thief in leather armor rushed in in a hurry, his face frightened: "We must use—"

Hoffman interrupted his words and jaw with a backhand slap, venting all his anger at the frustration of playing hide and seek with the beard. So he won't know what he wants to use anymore, because he doesn't need to use anything anymore after his head turns around.

Hoffman seemed to be in a better mood because he had ended a life with his own hands, he wiped his chin, forgot for a moment the mustache that had ruined his mood, took a deep breath, his naked upper body also swelled a little with this breath, his muscles were like a bunch of large and small lead balls pushing and rolling around under his skin, he squinted his eyes and looked at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror wearing only trousers—the eight-foot-tall man in the bronze mirror looked very satisfying to Hoffman.

Another robber ran to the door, and his colleagues on the ground stopped him in his tracks.

Hoffman admired his muscles — he posed a few as they shifted back and forth between flexible and stiff, contracted and swollen, and one had to worry about whether his criss-crossing scars would reopen as a result of the repetitive squeezing of a balloon.

Suddenly, Hoffman leaned his head closer to the mirror and looked closely at his eagle's hooked nose.

There seems to be a pimple. He reached out and touched it, then tried to squeeze it.

The robber at the door of the "Boss ......" could no longer bear it, he hunched his waist slightly, made a posture that could jump back and dodge at any time, and reported cautiously.

"What for!"

Hoffman turned around and stared at his subordinate who had come to report the news, his right hand still picking at the pimples on his nose - if he hadn't noticed that he was far away, he would have slapped him again: "Can't I have some personal time!"

"I'm sorry...... The boss ......" said the robber tremblingly, "Those three people are very powerful...... We can't stand it anymore...... Let's use those things......"

Blood gushed from the tip of Hoffman's nose. A piece of flesh was rubbed off by him, along with the pimples on it.

"There were five hundred people outside. Hoffman rubbed his nose and looked at his bloodstained fingers, and his dead fish-like eyes were red, like a bull seeing a flying red cloth, and began to get excited: "You mean that the five hundred men of the Whitebeard Thieves can't stop the three?

He took a step forward, a simple step, but the frightened subordinate jumped out of the way and sat on the ground.

"I don't remember how bad my men were. Hoffman rubbed his nose, as if he wanted to rub the blood and skin off together: "Or is it because the recent expansion has been too violent, and everything has been recruited into the regiment? You come here, what are you hiding? I won't eat you again, come here, come here!"

The robber got up and approached Hoffman with a wince, the sweat on his face had already come down, and the strong body odor and perfume smell on Hoffman's body made him want to sneeze, but he didn't dare to endure it, so that the muscles on his face wrinkled into a strange expression: "Boss...... I ......"

Hoffman's face suddenly became very kind, he stretched out his big hand and patted the robber on the shoulder, but the robber felt as if he had been knocked by a war hammer: "This will not work!

"Yes...... Top dog...... But...... That's the paladin......" The robber wept and suddenly thought that maybe it would be better to stay outside and deal with those three enemies.

"Well, I see, you go to Deputy Head Roy - where is he?"

"I ...... I don't know...... Maybe in a cell......"

"Hmm. Hoffman turned back and continued to look in the mirror: "Go find him." Sue him, try to catch as many as you can, the elves are not allowed to touch them, and the other two are at his disposal - there seems to be a woman, huh?".