It's my turn next!

Mark was extremely nervous and the chances of defeating Fat were really not high.

I haven't cleaned it for several days, my face has been stubborn and my hair is as messy as thatched, and it is no different from the slaves in their eyes, just as I can't tell the difference between lizardmen.

Feifa was even wondering why an ordinary slave appeared here?

This slave is far weaker than any opponent.

It seems to be more fragile than the red head just now, and there is not even more flesh than them.

Under the questioning gaze of fat, a guard opened the Mark chain and removed the shackles.

Markton felt a little relaxed, and a sense of freedom to be released, although all this was only temporary.

Rub the bloody marks that have been struck by chains for a long time, and strive to adapt to this comfort level.

The guards took Mark to a corner and signaled him to choose a weapon.

Most of the scattered weapons were covered in blood.

Perhaps because of the long time, the blood has long solidified into a dark red color.

These should belong to the weapons of the dead here!

With so many, it seems that there must be many resentful spirits in this filthy land.

Spears, shields, forks, axes, knives, etc. were piled up on the ground, and there were a wide variety of them.

Mark wasn't sure what weapon he was suitable for, so hesitated.

I remembered what an instructor in charge of Oriental who once trained his fighting skills said in his mind.

Weapons are extensions of will. Although they are different in forms, they are used the same purpose, and everything is for killing people.

As long as it is used properly, even a piece of paper can be used to kill people.

McCall, who is well-known for chauvinism, and a group of students looked down on this oriental instructor from the bottom of his heart, and asked him to show it in his sneer.

The instructor did not argue with him and silently drew out a piece of white paper.

After repeated folding, a sharp object formed, and walked to McCall and smiled slightly.

While McCall was stunned, he poked his arm violently.

McCall then let out a scream, which shocked all the students present.

McCall's arm was already injured, and red blood was flowing through the round holes.

In the dumbfounded of everyone, the instructor said lightly: "If it was not the arm that stabbed it, but the neck artery, then the student would die."

(Please do not imitate. For the sake of the plot of the novel, I have to write this way. Although there are other methods, it still has a certain degree of danger.)

The instructor paced back and explained: "The weapons have different forms. As long as they are used properly, the power will increase even after being used."

Since then, everyone has never missed his subjects, and no one dares to despise this thin Oriental instructor.

Thinking of this, Mark's confidence multiplied.

Humans are far less powerful than lizard guards, and they are not even less able to compete with fat. Some weapons are obviously not suitable.

A dull double-edged sword was mixed in the pile of weapons, and the hilt was filled with dust, which was not eye-catching.

Mark pulled it out and weighed it, the weight and length just fit.

Although the sword body is not more than one meter and two meters wide and only has four fingers, it is definitely a top-notch in terms of texture.

The sword spine is smooth and thick, and although the surface is bumpy, it is generally indomitable.

All of them show that the sword body is durable and tough.

The handguard is simple but not simple, and is cross-shaped with the sword body.

The scars were covered with many attacks because the original owner blocked many attacks, so this sword definitely does not belong to an ornamental weapon.

What's even more peculiar is that a soft steel wire is connected to the hilt of the sword!

Mark was curious and twitched the wire, wanting to see what exactly is connected to the wire?

After twitching for several meters, an iron ball suddenly appeared.

The iron ball is not big, and it just filled the hand and held it.

"Stir! It's your turn!"

While thinking about what the use of this weird iron ball was, the guard kept urging him.

Wrap the steel wire around your wrist and swing the sword. I felt it was not appropriate, and the iron ball seemed cumbersome.

I realized that it was not used in this way, so I held the wire in my hand and threw it several times.

The iron ball whirred in the air.

After thinking for a while, I suddenly realized.

It turns out that this thing is a meteor hammer!

I felt happy.

I repeated the exercises several times and felt a little familiar with them.

The meteor hammer hangs straight on his ankle, and when he thinks of the instructor in the East, a bold idea sprouts from his heart.

This thing can be used even with your feet!

I felt another secret joy in my heart.

Kick the wire with your feet.

The meteor hammer hit the stone pillar after being subjected to force.

"Bang!"

The debris fell.

It's really feasible!!

I couldn't help but feel complacent about my cleverness.

The bell rang again.

Mark inserted his sword to the ground.

The long sword is like a cross.

Kneel on the ground with your knees, hands and ten, bow your head and recite the chapters of the Bible silently...

What's wrong with this slave?

This opening surprised Feifei.

The fat injury was not serious, and after a short rest, the wound had been sutured.

It stared at the weak slave.

In its eyes, this behavior is no less than the wailing before death.

Although Mark was by no means a Puritan, he did not believe in the strange theories of gods and saints.

At this moment, I seem pious than any believer.

When humans encounter despair, their spirits must be extremely panicked.

God may not be able to help others with panic.

Reciting the words said by the saint can make people feel at ease and restore peace to their minds.

This is also Mark's little bit of shallow understanding of the doctrine.

After the prayer was finished, Mark slowly stood up.

I grabbed a handful of sand and soil, and the sand and soil kept sliding down from my fingers.

This feeling...

It was as if I was carrying my luggage, walking through my own wheat fields and returning to my farewell home.

Looking at the rippling golden wheat ears, Mark opened his palm and gently stroked the wheat turtle.

Yes, that's what it feels like!

The home is at the end of the countryside, and the mother, wife and children are waiting earnestly.

It's only one step away from home...

“Double!”

The bell rang again, urging the weird opponents to start a war.

Xin grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it repeatedly in his hand, just like a weightlifter applying zinc powder before going on stage, with the purpose of preventing the sword from slipping due to the sweat stains.

The fat man looked weird and didn't understand the slave's strange behavior, but all of this was nothing to do with others.

The opponent is unprecedentedly strong, which makes Mark unable to bear the pressure, so he can only face it with caution.
To be continued...