My Players Are So Fierce – Handsome dog Frank
Chapter 501 - 173. The shrieking arrival of death adds another stroke to ancient hatred _2

Chapter 501: 173. The shrieking arrival of death adds another stroke to ancient hatred _2

"This is too ruthless, isn’t it, taking away the ladder after crossing the bridge?"

"Who knows?"

Meow Brother squinted his eyes.

After pondering for a few seconds, he said:

"I guess there must be something shady about the rebellion of the old church back then. Probably, uncovering the truth of what happened back then might be our main quest in this Avalon faction. And guess what, I feel there must be some good loot in this task."

"Oh, why is that?"

Brother Black Silk asked curiously, Three Five Battles also looked at Meow Brother with curiosity. The latter patted the imitation version of Avalon Sacred Blade at his waist and said:

"The item appraisal says that the Elder Gramo made 150 imitation sacred blades in total, and now they are all lost in the war. Besides the two in my hand and the one in the hand of Grey-haired Demon Hunting Princess Natalie, the whereabouts of the other 148 are unknown, right?

You guys think, why would the development team come up with the legend of 150 sacred blades? Not to mention there are items like the three sacred blades of oak, which sounds like super top-notch equipment!

Among the three sacred blades now, only the Watchman is in the hands of the Battle Chief Natalie, the Punisher and the Arbitrator are still missing.

My brothers, maybe that’s the surprise left by the development team for us, the legend of the unparalleled divine weapon, it sounds so awesome, so powerful.

Even if we can’t get the real sacred blade, having a few imitation sacred blades on us is quite decent, after all, there are only 150 of such items in the background, just the commemorative meaning and collection value are worth it. This pie is quite round."

"Makes sense."

The Four Heavenly Kings were convinced, they had to admit that Meow Brother’s guess is quite reasonable.

So they cheerily went to join the little players who were still hunting down the routed soldiers, under the guidance of Lord Morphy’s magnificent spirit eagle, they continued to hunt down the collapsed Psychic Hunters in this desolate night.

They fought more with less, used the weak to beat the strong, they were lively and tireless in the chase, their frenzy for war and killing even made the old hunter witches feel jittery.

"These are the ’Warriors of Morphy’ you’ve been mentioning?"

Old hunter Eugene, riding on his horse, asked the veteran Norman beside him:

"They’re the ones who joined the offensive against Salockdale in the Blood Eagle Corridor? They are obviously weak but incredibly fearless, no wonder they are rumored to be the unbeatable fighters among the barbarians. But, the barbarians I’ve met don’t look as good as them!

Moreover, why do their black hair and black eyes always give me a sense of the dragon descendants of the ancient Kalem?

Are you sure they come from the ancient mountains in the Saxon Region?"

"At least that’s what Lord Morphy told us."

Old warrior Norman was hesitant about whether to reveal the "alien" identity of the small players to the old hunter, but every time he got to the verge of it, a strange emotion would swell up in his heart. It seemed like some kind of force was stopping him from telling the truth.

He was very familiar with this kind of emotion, it was similar to the feeling he used to get when he went to the Natural Cathedral to pray before the collapse of the Avalon Church ten years ago.

That feeling of being watched...

Perhaps, the gaze of Avalon’s god has returned to these last witch hunters, perhaps because they have proven their loyalty to the divine with the pain of ten years of war.

If the divine is asking him to keep this secret, then Norman will stop any behavior that reveals the identity of these "mountain people".

And anyway, the grace of the God Avalon has descended onto these aliens, which proves that they have become their partners in the path of nature.

"Bang!"

A familiar gunshot rang ahead, causing Old Eugene and Norman to immediately spur their horses forward.

Soon, they saw Mother Mary Ann executing a fleeing Psychic Hunter Commander.

The latter was kneeling on the ground, his helmet already removed and tossed aside. His elderly face was full of pleading, it was covered with the imprints from the Circle Tower. He screamed, saying:

"Mary Ann, I saved you from the ambush of the barbarian divine warriors in Ice Bay! We’re friends, right? Don’t do this, don’t end my life with a bullet...

Your nature-enchanted bullets are not meant to attack your own people."

"I know, Pent, I remember how you carried me out of the haunted dungeon of the ancient barbarian, blood all over us, and you were swearing at me not to fall asleep...

I’ve always remembered your life-saving grace."

The old hunter sighed, put down her double-barreled shotgun in her hand.

She stepped back a step, looking at her traitorous companion. In her husky voice, she said:

"But when you decided to commit atrocities for your new master and hunt down us old friends, I have already repaid what I owed you! Pent, remember! This is not personal vendetta tonight!

In respect of your past service to Avalon, die with dignity!"

"Ssh"

The jade green hunting blade was drawn, the traitor instinctively clenched his fists, but when he looked up and saw the tired and helpless eyes of Mother Mary Ann, he sighed, loosened his fingers, knelt on the ground reciting something in the same posture as when he used to pray.

"May Avalon’s starlight illuminate the dark and misguided path..."

Mother Marianne murmured, then coldly held down her "old friend’s" shoulder, letting the sharp blade accurately pierce the latter’s heart and stirring it up, thus ending all vitality of this person enhanced by spiritual energy.