"Vladimir, have you heard that we are going to raid the Winter Palace?" A Mao Federation player in armor placed two axes on his waist, squatting next to the fire pit, roasting the fire and rubbing his hands.

His name is Mikhail Jakokize, a Kisliv guard. He has black hair, his lush beard and hair are almost connected. His entire face seems to be hidden behind the hair, making people worry that the bonfire in the pit will ignite him.

"Yes, Mikhail, we are going to raid the Winter Palace." Vladimir leaned on his giant bear companion and covered his face with a leather hat to avoid being attacked by the cold wind: "This damn game, we actually have to fight another civil war to regain our core territory."

"There is no way, the character of the indigenous ruler here is really similar to that of the female tsar in history." Mikhail reached out to pull out a few tubers of food from the fire, and had no feeling of licking the flame tongue: "Those new Chinese tsars are easier to talk to, but they actually gave up their position so easily."

"What are we waiting for here?" A tall player suddenly stood up in the snow pile, shaking his head and looking for vodka: "Is there still wine? I have to drink more!"

"Without Yuri, there is no mouthful!" Mikhail shouted in dissatisfaction: "You have all drunk! That's our three-day reserve!"

Yuri took two steps back in a daze and sat on the ground with a clang. A carriage half buried in snow was leaned horizontally by half a meter away by the half-giant Yuri. Yuri seemed to have no feeling, twisted his huge body and found a comfortable position to sleep.

"Hi! Yuri! Stop sleeping, come and light the fire!" Mikhail threw a roasted potato over. Yuri flicked it lazily with his little finger, and the flames in the pit immediately swelled up again.

"Don't bother him, Mikhail, Yuri has his own worries." A female ranger in a dark cloak fell silently from the trunk, leaving no footprints on the snow wherever she passed.

"Zhuoya, what did you find?" Vladimir's voice came out behind the hat. Their five-man team, with members from all over the world, has many such teams. They don't have time to gather the people participating in the Glory Soul Contest like the New China people before setting off. They can only set off first and then meet up.

Moreover, these people are not only to participate in the shit-like glory battle soul competition, but also to completely resolve the current chaos in the Kingdom of Kisliff.

After they meet, they secretly sneak into the capital of the Kingdom of Kisliv, rushed into the Winter Palace where the female tsar lived, killed all the bastards who refused to submit, and then ended the civil war.

Maybe they will all die halfway, but who cares? They can still be resurrected anyway. If they don’t succeed this time, then do it again. Even if they don’t succeed, they can mobilize more players.

The Mao Federations have had enough of this situation. They now plan to completely end this situation. Nothing can prevent national reunification. Even the legendary strong man will surrender to the power of the people!

"I didn't see anyone. Maybe they were late, maybe the information we got was inaccurate." Zhuoya sat next to the campfire and snatched the roasted potatoes from the other party in Mikhail's dissatisfied complaint: "The snow is too heavy, and even I can't go too far, it's too easy to get lost."

"It's okay, let's keep waiting. No matter what, at least the potatoes are enough." Vladimir's voice sounded like he wanted to fall asleep.

The only player who did not speak was Karamurza, the Tatars. The player walking on the Sword Saint's Road is not uncommon in the bitter and cold land of Kisliv, but there are very few players who choose this path.

They die too easily.

It means literally. The sword saint is like a monk who cannot wear armor. The monk has more or less damage reduction, increased defense, and healed his own skills and talents. The sword saint has embarked on the path of pursuing the ultimate lethality.

Asceticism is their daily routine. Most of the sword saints are taciturn, which is very consistent with Karamurza's personality. Vladimir and the others have never heard this companion say a few words, and even introduce themselves simply to their name and occupation.

"Someone is here." The sword saint, whose hair was tied into a ponytail, suddenly opened his eyes. The mysterious energy instantly shook the snow on Karamurza's body, and a black scimitar was held in his hand by the sword saint.

The profession of Sword Saint originated from the Loess Zone, but with its spread around the world, the inheritance of Sword Saint refers more to the inheritance of will and spirit, not from weapons.

Most of the sword saints outside the Loess Zone do not apply swords as their weapons. Karamurza's scimitar is quite reliable. If it is the knowledgeable white wolf Aragon here, he will definitely tell you that the sword saint who uses a warhammer is really sexy.

With the reminder of the Sword Saint, a group of seven burly players wearing black cloaks soon appeared in front of them.

The player in the lead took off his hood, exposed his face with scales underneath, and greeted Vladimir and his group with a grin on his lips: "We are ordered to come and meet, and from now on, obey Captain Vladimir's command!"

"This is impossible! I checked that direction just now!" Zhuo Ya asked with a little shame, "How did you come here?"

"Telebration magic, ma'am, we come from hell." The black-robed player led by the leader unbuttoned his cloak, revealing the strong body hidden under the cloak, as well as the thick cuticle skin, and the two mini versions of small wings behind him.

"So, is that rumor true?" Mikhail walked forward very well, trying to stroke the pair of small wings with his fingers, but the other party did not dodge: "We really mastered the passage to the lower plane, and sent players to help the devil fight bloody battle?"

"It's true, we have more than 100,000 people below." The hell player was a little uncomfortable with the wind and snow on the ground and wrapped his cloak tightly again.

"Damn it, how did they select personnel? I wasn't selected?" Mikhail complained dissatisfiedly, and Yuri was already used to it. After all, he had seen the real devil in reality.

"We have been adjusted in an organizational manner. Comrades. If you don't mind, we want to sit by the fire and chat. We are not very accustomed to the low temperature above, and the lower part is always hot." The devil player is more polite than other Russian players, giving people the illusion that they have become gentlemen after going to hell to study.
Chapter completed!