The Amber Sword

Brando lifted his sword and a wind pressure erupted from the junction of the Pokémon sword with the pale teeth, blowing his hair backwards. He squeezed his eyes and slid back through the force, feeling only half of his body tearing apart the same.

Although he hasn't had a sword so far with experience, the life value projected on the retina has actually been brushed down by more than 30 points. Brando understands that this is caused by a shock to the gut that can't be removed completely. It also has to be because his body is nearly seven energy levels, much tougher than the average person - if he changes his sword to someone else's estimate, he dies of a direct shock to the gut.

But what made him cry bitter was that Alberton seemed to know that, too, a sword like a sword did not give him a chance to breathe. Several times Brando couldn't help but wonder if the guy didn't care about his army at all, although his side was about to collapse, but a platoon of skeleton soldiers in the valley over there were also dying.

Does this guy think he can beat an army on his own?

Brando may not know that one of his ridiculous ideas is the one closest to reality. "The White Knight" Alberton, though he was a hero of Eluin, as a dead spirit awakened, everything he lived was but an annotation, and in the presence of the Vaughn Spirit was a distortion of the laws of nature - in many bright teachings, it was classified as a blasphemy to the living because it was just another force, another thought in service, a shell that should have decayed and returned to earth.

It is a person, not a human being, and for a dead spirit, its lifetime memories are just pieces of memory. One assertion is that dead spirits are not free of fear, because their greatest fear comes from memories of life, and some of them may even fall into memories of life and never be able to pull themselves out.

For them, this is something that is more resistant than extinction itself, and almost all dead spirits avoid memories, because when they do, they inevitably fall into fear.

But 'White Knight’ Alberton may be a special individual among them, and this knight is often caught in memories of the past. It remembers the battles of the knights on the Golden Flower Plateau, as if watching it from the perspective of another person, and the killing in memory makes it more calm and heartless.

So at this moment, as Senior General Madala's ‘White Knight’ of the Apocalypse, we want to see how to strangle potential enemies in the cradle for this dark kingdom.

Obviously, in its view, the threat of a potential, brilliant commander is far greater than that of those who are unanimous.

It would rather give up the victory of World War I than kill this young man.

But Brando's performance has far exceeded the expectations of this Lord Undead. It is well aware of Eruin's swordsmanship school, and Brando obviously learns exactly what the shallowest category of the army is, and perhaps there is some palace swordsmanship fur in between, but generally speaking, it is the level of a tripod cat, but that is how the tripod cat's level makes it ineffective again and again.

It ends up choosing to use absolute restraint in power and grind each other to death a little bit. There is even some shame in this approach, which is a little difficult for a man like Alberton, who was a knight before and after his death, of noble descent, to accept, but for that oath under three black sceptres, under the Black Code, he chose apathetically to renounce his honor -

Because Alberton knew that many people would choose just like it, and Madara had to make that choice.

“Martha, Madara will always be with you.” The flame in the eyes of the Horseman of the Dead is as cold as ice, and the sword in his hand has been mercilessly cut off.

But he had just done it, and Brando had already avoided it early on, as if he had expected it to do. The Dead Horseman's pale teeth can only pass the young man every time, and once in a while, they are cleverly removed with a shallow sword technique -

It all seemed kind of incredible to Alberton.

Again! The fire of the soul in Alberton's orbit could not help but flash. Since its inception, it has changed three types of swordsmanship in a row, first using its own most familiar Eruin swordsmanship, and then Eruin's court swordsmanship, all of which Brando guessed. At first, it thought the boy was particularly familiar with the swordsmanship of his country, and then he subconsciously switched to Madara's military black cross sword technique. Instead of expecting Brando to adapt, he guessed more accurately...

If dead spirits also have the emotions of living spirits, it is estimated that 'White Knight' Alberton will curse his mother at this moment.

But he didn't know that Brando's familiarity with Eruin's military swordsmanship was limited to before the original game level 30. And in the long experience that followed, he saw hundreds or hundreds of different kinds of advanced, or road-going, swordsmanship, if any, which he was most familiar with --

That must be the knight sword art of the Church Knight, and the Black Cross sword art of Madara.

Without him, acquaintance is just a coincidence.

Knight swordsmanship is one of the longest used swordsmanship in Brando's life, while Black Cross swordsmanship is the most common swordsmanship he has ever seen. Brando fought Madara in the game for seventy or eighty years, and his knowledge of each other's military swordsmanship was as natural as eating and drinking water.

Unfortunately, this does not mean that Brando is better now.

Because under Alberton's absolute power, he couldn't find a single chance to fight back. He was old enough, couldn't stand up to 16 energy levels of ingenuity. Sometimes Brando couldn't even capture his opponent's actions, relying entirely on experience to guess.

And Brando quickly felt his strength was getting closer to the cordon - if a person's strength dropped below half, his strength and response would begin to diminish. If it goes down to less than a third, it's hard for a person to keep his movements intact.

But it's only been three minutes since the battle began.

Brando was already sweating, and faced with Alberton's impatience, he gradually lost room for thought. At first he had time to look at what was happening on the battlefield, but with a little energy, now he had to get close to doing everything he could to avoid Alberton's sword.

The number of swords crossed is also frequent.

It's like a vicious circle, and the more he crosses the sword with Alberton, the more he feels powerless. But the more he lost his mind, the harder it was for him to escape Alberton's sword.

Brando almost bit the root of his teeth and insisted that it had almost nothing to do with death. Compared to pressing the potential out of the sour bone root one at a time and escaping from death one at a time, the feeling of exhaustion coming out of the depths of his mind seemed like he was going to sleep forever for the next moment, making him want to give up almost entirely.

But this time he somehow remembered Freya and Little Roman, and the cavalry that fought with him, and the bloodthirsty feeling from his chest kept him going. He knew it was a responsibility to hold him accountable for everything he had done and said.

At that moment he closed his eyes and opened them again, and what he saw was a snowflake. Brando finally woke up, and his scalp was numb for a while, and he almost rolled off the ground in a position that had nothing to do with Elegance.

But the power of Alberton's sword finally erupted...

It swords forward, silver's lowest force drivers burn silver flames all over the wild; it is like a silver moonlight, it goes forward, silent, rock crumbles, a cold fir falls backwards.

From the valley up, a sword actually cut out a bare hillside approaching the 150-foot conical range.

The cold wind blew past and the valley was silent.

A moment of silence.

Everyone was frightened, and although they had heard of the so-called second power level - the power of silver - they had never seen it with their own eyes - at this moment they witnessed a miracle almost impossible for manpower to reach, and they could not help but create a fear of the power itself from within.

This awe is not even fear or despair; it is merely the worship of a small mortal for immense power.

Even Leto, Mano, etc. had a hard-on, and they couldn't believe Brando had been fighting such a monster for so long?

But they're wasting time back there, not helping the youngster--

Brando didn't say anything.

Instead, a deep sense of shame was created in the hearts of these mercenaries, who felt the deep sense of responsibility in the young man at this moment, and the young man who had always seemed relaxed had been diligently fulfilling his promise to each of them.

If in the past they were a blind admirer of Brando, it was only at this moment that these mercenaries felt a sense of belonging for the first time.

But where's Brando? They couldn't bear to worry. Can he survive a blow like that?

White Knight ‘Alberton’ retracts his sword and sounds clear.

“Brando! ”

Freya was riding a horse from one side of the hillside toward where Brando was fighting Alberton, but she was one step late when she had just seen the battle between that young man and Alberton.

As if it's all over.

Freya's sword fell to the ground, and she could hardly believe what she saw, the young man who brought her out of Butch, the young man who told her to see the world outside the well, the shameless man.

So that's it?

But she felt someone pat her on the shoulder, and the future goddess of martial arts couldn't help turning back, and what she saw was Charles.

The young wizard stared down the hill and his eyes were still motionless:

“Miss Freya, as long as I'm here, it means the Lord is not dead. ”

“What...?” The Ma Tai Girl did not understand all the meaning contained in the Charles.

But at least she understand--

Because she immediately saw that familiar figure climb up from under a piece of gravel.

Brando felt almost as much pain all over his body as if he were going to break apart. His shirt was completely broken, his forehead was covered in blood, and he couldn't tell how many wounds he had.

But he's still in pain. He's so proud. Hey, smile.

“Old man, I didn't know you missed this eventually--”

……

Good evening, everyone.) (To be continued, please go to www.qidian.com for more chapters, support the author, and support authentic reading!)