The bull-headed warrior blessed by the power of the totem has a dazzling bronze metallic luster all over his body.

However, the ferocious-looking armor that is worn all over the body seems to have biological activity, slowly squirming with an extremely weird rhythm, exuding an aura that is ten times more brutal than the totem beast.

Even his brother, who in Ye Zi's mind could never be defeated, let alone shrink, started to tremble from the heart when facing the totem warrior.

The elder brother drew the sword forcefully, trying to pull out the bone blade and attack again from another angle.

The bone blade was bitten tightly by the opponent's muscles and armor.

This slowly squirming totem armor seemed to have a strange life and strong appetite, and it actually swallowed the bone blade in my brother's hand inch by inch.

In the end, even the handle of the knife was "eaten" by it.

If my brother hadn't let go in time, both of his arms might have been eaten by the totem armor!

The brother who lost his weapon also seemed to have lost all his strength and courage.

Facing the gap between mortals and gods and demons, my brother was completely desperate.

Fear was like a transparent steel nail, driven from his brother's Tianling Cap, all the way to the soles of his feet, nailing him to the bull-headed warrior, unable to even move.

The tauren warrior slowly raised his right hand and spread four fingers that were thicker than Ye Zi's arm.

"Snapped!"

He slapped it down.

No moves are needed, just the simplest and crudest slap, like an adult lecturing a child.

Big balls of plasma erupted from my brother's face and chest.

Hundreds of newly scabbed wounds burst open again.

The astonishing force squeezed out every last drop of blood from his body.

My brother spun around in the air more than a dozen times.

It fell heavily in front of the leaves.

His appearance became more miserable than that of a picker who fell off a cliff.

Half of the head and the entire chest were deeply sunken.

The white bone stubble punctured the skin in dozens of places and came out from all over the body.

His neck was bent backwards in a very strange way.

The sharp broken bones severed the trachea and blood vessels, leaving only a thin layer of flesh and blood still attached between the head and the cavity.

But there was no breath, and no blood spurted out from the fracture.

The elder brother just stared at Ye Zi with this miserable look.

There was no life left in the bloodshot and broken eyeballs.

There are no longer the usual shining arcs and starbursts.

In the slightly open, bottomless throat, the dead brother's spirit said to Ye Zi very weakly:

"Run, Ye Zi, run..."

Being stared at by such a brother, Ye Zi lost all his courage.

Not only did he lose the courage to wield his sword and fight the enemy to death.

I also lost the courage to run away.

The huge steel nail named "Fear" that had pinned his brother to death just now was driven into Ye Zi's Tianling Cap, pinning him to a pool of cold blood.

A bull-headed warrior wearing totem armor strode forward.

Ye Zi closed his eyes and waited for death.

But after waiting and waiting, the expected severe pain and darkness did not come.

Instead, he felt a huge, hot body, like a newly cast steel statue, lowering in front of him.

The leaves opened their eyes.

It was discovered that the Tau-headed warrior restored the helmet engraved with the sacred patterns of the ancestors into a totem, then breathed it back into his body, turning it into gorgeous tattoos all over his face.

He revealed that half of his face was ferocious, and the other half was even more ferocious.

But at this moment, there was no trace of cruel malice on this extremely ugly face.

Rather, it is solemn and solemn, and extremely pious.

I saw the tauren warrior retracting the totem armor on his right arm.

The armor on his left arm squirmed and condensed into a sharp horn blade.

The sharp blade of his left hand gently slid at the base of his right palm.

The blood, which smelled slightly like cows, immediately flowed out and was carefully poured onto my brother by the bull-headed warrior.'

The Tauren Warrior watered it very carefully.

The devilish palm that had just killed my brother was now covering every wound on his body from head to toe, and evenly applied it on him.

Finally, the tauren warrior dipped his own blood in his blood, reluctantly found a relatively clean spot on his brother's muddy forehead, and drew a hoof-like pattern stroke by stroke.

Although the fingers are thick and clumsy.

But he drew it attentively and meticulously.

During the whole process, he kept his head lowered, not even glancing at Ye Zi who was close at hand, nor glancing around, but continued to slaughter.

It seems that for the Tauren warrior at this moment, there is nothing more important in the world than drawing hoof patterns.

"This is... a blood-giving ceremony!"

Ye Zi remembered that he and his brother had once heard an old fool say that a superior person among the Turan people could give their sacred blood, which contained the power of the ancestral spirit, to the inferior person who fought bravely and pleased the ancestral spirit.

It means using the courage and glory of the superior to help the inferior to drive away the despicability and cowardice deep in the blood.

From then on, the lower class got rid of their past identity and ethnic group.

You are qualified to join the superior's clan as a servant and embark on a more dangerous and glorious journey.

After listening to the old fool's story, Ye Zi and his brother climbed to the tallest mandala tree more than once, wrapped themselves in the widest leaves, rested their heads on their arms, swayed in the breeze, and thought about it.

One day, he can also obtain the glorious bloodline of a superior, get rid of his humble status as a "rat citizen", and become a noble clan warrior, or even a totem warrior blessed by the ancestors.

Unexpectedly, my brother realized his dream so quickly.

Not only did he get rid of the lowest bloodline.

He also joined the "Bloodhoof Clan", one of the five major clans in Turan, the largest and most powerful.

Unfortunately, it was in the form of a corpse.

Ye Zi didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

He knew that the Tauren warrior would not kill him.

When the old fool rarely regained consciousness, he once told him that the purpose of totem warriors fighting was to please the ancestral spirits.

Therefore, when they enter the state of "totem madness", they will definitely challenge opponents who are strong enough, or at least brave enough.

Victory or defeat, life or death, it doesn't matter.

What matters is courage, courage, bloodiness, and glory.

The reason why the Tauren warrior summoned the totem armor just now was not because he couldn't beat his brother without armor.

Even if he didn't summon the totem armor, even if he didn't dodge or block, my brother's superb sword could still chop off the bones of the Tauren warrior.

As long as the other party gets serious, he can break his brother's neck with two fingers.

But the other party probably didn't expect that in a small mountain village of rat people, someone would dare to swing a knife at him.

He was impressed by his brother's courage, so he used the totem armor to give his brother the glory he deserved.

In the same way, a bull-headed warrior wearing a totem armor will not kill Ye Zi.

Killing such a lost young man, sitting there waiting for death, not only fails to please the ancestors, but also tarnishes the power of the sacred totem.

The current Ye Zi is not even qualified to die in the hands of the Tauren Warrior.

The young man who realizes this has no joy in surviving the disaster.

On the contrary, he felt that the ghosts of his mother and brother, as well as Anjia and others in the prisoner pile, were all staring at him.

Their gazes were like chains shot out from the abyss of the undead, tightly binding Ye Zi's hands and feet and dragging him into the thickest darkness.

…

"Let's go, let's go, you despicable mice, if you don't want to die without a burial place, just walk through here!"

Three days later.

On the "Bison River", the most rapid tributary of the Turan River, near a waterfall with a drop of more than 100 meters and turbulent water, groups of rat captives were lining up to cross the river.

The Bloodhoof warriors wielded long oxtail whips inlaid with spikes, beating the fearful rat people to pieces. While torturing the hearts of the captives with the most vicious curses, they laughed as if they were watching a scene.
To be continued...