Below came the neighing of the horses pushed onto the ferry, the sound of horses trampling on the wooden boards, the screams and commotion of the crowd, the splashing of the carriages falling into the water, and the mooing of the cows that stretched their heads out of the water.

Brian saw that crates and bundles of hay floating on the river hit the ferry hull and walked away.

There was only shouting and cursing around, and a cloud of dust rose from the valley in the distance, and a clear howl of wolf howls came from it, which was more like an orc wolf cavalry about to chase after him.

"It can be seen that you must be the princess's suitor, which is understandable. After all, the number of people who pursue princesses is as many times as she swings the sword." The poet continued, "She is a charming girl, tall and has a good figure, and she swings her sword like dancing..."

Brian's magic made the poet shut his mouth in time and almost bit his tongue. He was scared and sweated in a cold way and quickly began to reorganize his language.

"May the gods bear mercy, and in the Forest of Kings, an ancient green dragon attacked the princess' army." The poet said sadly in Brian's unkind eyes:

"The orc army hiding in the forest dispersed the army again. The gods are merciful, I really can't guarantee that she will survive the Dragon Breath. If she is really alive, she must be hiding in the forest near Daotan Town."

"Thank you for your news, poet."

Knowing that Hiseya is likely to be near Daotan Town, Brian glanced at him gratefully, and raised his hand holding the reins and said to the poet, "Now, it should be the time for me to fulfill my promise, and I will send you across the river."

"Wait a minute!" The poet interrupted Brian's move to perform magic, and his expression suddenly became serious.

"Your Majesty, haven't you seen it? This is a unique war. Wherever the orc army goes, there are only wastelands and corpses, and corpses everywhere. This is a war fought for killing, with its cruelty..."

"Are you funny? What kind of war isn't cruel?" Brian stared at the bard condescendingly.

"What's the point of exaggeration about this? From the day the world was born, war was murder, robbery, arson and rape, and it has been like this until today. This is the tradition of war. From the day the world was born, once the war broke out, farmers would take their families and hide in the forest with their own possessions, and wait for the conflict to end before going home..."

"But this war is different, Lord Wizard. After this war, no one can go home, they are homeless, orcs will only leave rubble, their army rolls forward like lava, and no one can escape. There are gallows and piles of firewood scattered on the roadside, and the sky is divided into several pieces by smoke columns as long as the horizon. You must understand that the orcs pass through the Storm Horn Mountains to completely destroy the entire kingdom."

"It's too ridiculous. What's the benefit of destroying the kingdom? The purpose of war is not destruction. There are only two reasons for war: first, power, and second, money. Even the orcs, they understand this truth."

"Stop talking about the great truth, Lord Wizard! The great truth cannot change the facts! Haven't you heard me? Why don't you understand? Believe me, the Gray Oak River cannot stop the orcs from entering. When their shaman arrives, they will build bridges and continue to advance, and no one will escape by then."

"It seems that fear has made the poet lose his mind."

Brian looked at him meaningfully, "You are talking nonsense to help these escapers safely escape the Gray Oak River."

"Don't you want to lend a helping hand to them?" the poet looked at him and begged, "It's just a simple task for you."

The howlings of wolves deep in the forest came one after another, indicating that the orcs' wolf cavalry were approaching quickly, and fear filled the entire dock like a cloud.

"Come one by one!"

The knight with bandages on his head rushed into the group and shouted: "In order, you guys are raised by them! You can only join one at a time!"

"Give me a reason to save them." Brian said coldly.

"We are Cormiers, and in this land we will stand proudly until the day we die, Lord Wizard." The poet's slender fingers plucked a tragic melody on the harp. His voice was sweet and pure, and even in the noisy crowd filled with fear, it still clearly reached Brian's ears.

"For no matter which king's orders come from, we are still warriors of Cormier and will still fight for the Kingdom of Cormier, Lord Wizard.

——"A magical craft of spiritual energy!"

Brian waved his hand, and thick trees along the dock rose from the ground.

Under the control of mysterious energy, these trees turned into brand new rafts at a speed visible to the naked eye and floated on the bank of the river.

"What are you doing when you are still standing there?" the knight wrapped in a bandage yelled, "Homes! Why don't you run up and take a strait to the other side!"

In an instant, the fleeing crowd swarmed towards the raft, and surging waves splashed on the water. Countless unlucky people fell into the water, struggling in the water to approach the raft.

Brian turned his horse's head without looking back and rushed towards the dusty forest in the north.

Fireballs exploded.

The screams of the chasing orcs and wolf cavalrymen kept ringing one after another, and the crowds sailed to the opposite shore, looking at the bursting fire, the haggard faces finally showed a long-lost cheer.

"May the goddess of luck favor you!"

The half-elf bard Elend Fengshui stood on the raft, staring at Brian's disappearing back, and whispered: "I didn't expect that we would meet again in this way. The wizard lord of Mokou Town, you have always made me look at him..."

At dawn of the seventh day.

It started raining in the sky. Unlike yesterday's storm, the sky turned lead gray and then raindrops were sprinkled.

Brian rode eastward, quietly passing through forest trails like a ghost.

He did not choose to fly, and did not want to be a living target for the enemy, was just one of the reasons. Even so, he himself didn't remember how many orcs, ogres, goblins, werewolves and other cruel forest encounters had been killed through magic.

Moreover, riding a horse will allow him to track down many useful information through the traces left by the forest trail.

He passed through the villages swallowed by the flames, the rolling darkness and red rubble, and the pungent smell of carbon ash soaked in rain, and it had long turned into scorched earth villages and settlements.

His appearance scared away the flock of crows that were feasting on the corpse.

He also rescued groups of farmers from the pursuit of a group of gnolls.

They had just fled from war and fire, were in a daze, exhausted physically and mentally, and looked fearful and confused about any problems, bad luck and fear, and even made them lose the ability to organize speech.

Brian continued to ride eastward, through the flames and smoke, through drizzles and mists, and the scroll of war unfolded before his eyes, and all the miserable situations made him overwhelmed.

In the ruins of a burnt village, a black pillar stands.

A naked corpse was hung on the pillar with its head facing downwards, and blood flowed from its bloody abdomen to its chest and face, and the blood-clogged hair hung down like an icicle.

Not far away, there was a gray horse wrapped in a black horse dress, staggering on the edge of the battlefield, wandering between the pile of corpses and the broken spear embedded in the soil, neighing pitifully, dragging the intestines that drooped from the wounds of the abdomen.

Brian used magic without any pain to help it end the pain.

A girl lay near the burned farmhouse yard, spreading her limbs, her naked body was covered in blood, and her dull eyes were staring at the sky.

He released the flames and allowed her to decently turn into ashes.

Not long after, he passed a tar workshop, and Brian spit out almost everything he had eaten that day.

In that workshop, a group of Purple Dragon Knights were executed.

It was difficult for him to see the specific number of this group of people.

Because in this massacre, they used not only bows, swords and spears, but also the logging tools they found nearby - axes, planers and cross-cutting saws.

He summoned a group of land-digging badgers and buried them.

He couldn't even walk fifty kilometers in the next two days.

The rain kept falling, and the earth dried by the scorching heat sucked water like a sponge, and the forest path became muddy and difficult to walk.

The fog filled him without seeing the rising smoke pillars, but the smell of the burning house reminded him that the orc army was nearby and was still igniting everything that could be burned.

He found no refugees, as if he was the only one in the forest, at least that's what he thought.

When he arrived at the ruins of Daotan Town, the pious singing sound gradually filled with the woods appeared.

Brian saw a group of dirty and sloppy refugees appear at the source of the sound.

The leaders all wore big beards and long robes, some barefoot, some wore slippers, and on their chests, they wore holy emblems tied with pale hands tied with red ropes.

Behind were about sixty ragged men, women and children, a large sow, a few sheep, a few men holding axes, and more with rough wooden sticks.

Among them was a two-wheeled trailer made of grey broken wood, high over it with skulls and scattered broken bones.

Seeing Brian, they all stopped and the singing gradually subsided.

"His wizard," said one of them, "May the mercy of the God of Fellowship protect you."

"Irmat also protects you, friends."

Brian turned over and dismounted, replied respectfully, and asked: "I want to ask where the Iron Princess of the Kingdom of Cormier took her troops."

Irmat, the God of Passion.

A god who controls patience, suffering, martyrdom and stamina.

This is a good and orderly god, also known as the "God of Crying".

His believers include the disabled, oppressed, the poor, monks, paladins, slaves and serfs, and the lowest and humble.

Although many people misunderstand the doctrine of the "Crying God" and even more mock His doctrine, His church has many firm followers throughout the Lord's material world.

In this cruel and realistic world, many victims, sick, and poor rely on the help of the Irmat Church.

People in many areas respect the church of the God of Crying, and His pastors often receive a lot of generous assistance when practicing medicine freely everywhere.

Some people cannot understand why some people in the world are willing to endure torture, and therefore often misunderstand the Irmat Church.

Those who despise the weak mostly believe that the believers of the God of Crying are all a group of unscheming weak people.

However, it is obvious that both these tyrants and rogues underestimate these kind believers.

Because the God of Crying seems to be very gentle, but when He is angry, he will also show an extremely fierce and cruel side.

Especially for the evil one, He cares deeply about all the children and young lives in the world, and fights against those who dare to harm the objects of His protection.

As we can see from the fact that these priests wander here, their strength is not as simple as they seem.

"Sir Wizard, Princess Natalella you are looking for will be with us two days ago." The speaker had a thin and angular face, a short gray-brown beard, her sparse hair combed behind her head, tied into a knot, and her black barefoot was as hard and rough as a tree root.

"When she saw a purple dragon falling into the Skull Rock Town in the Storm Horn Mountains, she led her followers to rush over, and may the God of Fellowship protect the strong Iron Princess of the Kingdom of Cormier."

"Your Excellency the Wizard, Irmat sees the suffering you are enduring for others. Please remember that no matter what kind of pain and danger you suffer, you must adhere to the correct principles without wavering."

The priest of the God of Passion holds the holy emblem and says devoutly: "For the mercy and mercy of our Lord will provide you with the courage and strength to support you."

"Thank you for your blessings, thanks to the God of Fellowship for giving me the courage."

Brian bowed to the priest sincerely and respectfully, then threw down his mount, used his flight technique, and flew to the sky.
Chapter completed!