Chapter 1 Treatment like a King
Slender blades of grass blocked the view like a dense forest.
From the gaps between the grass blades, you can see the abnormal gray and black clouds in the sky.
Rain and mist hit Horn's face, but there was not much chill.
With my nose close to the ground, I could just smell the grassy smell of the wet soil.
It seems that he has traveled through time.
Horn was so sure because in the last moment of his memory, what he saw was the yellow license plate number of the Universiade heavy truck and the distant and blue sky.
He has melted into the blue sky.
Sure enough, the moment you look far away, a hunter's cabin that can be called a medieval stereotype appears on the hillside.
It is composed of log walls, slatted frames and thatched roofs. On the top of the gabled eaves is a cross that looks like a "屮", and under the eaves hangs a dried and shrunken Old lynx skin.
Subconsciously, Horn wanted to twist his head, but no matter how hard he tried, the sight in front of him remained motionless. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
What's going on? The soul has not adapted to the new body yet?
Just as Horn tried to control his body to get up, a thumping sound of footsteps came from his right ear, which was close to the ground.
Horn immediately stopped trying.
Accompanied by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, there were also shouts and curses mixed with the sound of metal clashing.
Horn had never heard this curse language before, but surprisingly he could understand it.
"There is obviously food in the forest, and we can obviously avoid starving to death. Why can't we go in to find food?"
It was a hoarse girl's voice, she was breathing heavily, Roaring like a lioness.
"Hungry? Why are you hungry? Didn't I also suffer from the flood? Why don't I feel hungry? Sometimes, I have to look for my own problems. Is it because I have no religious beliefs? Have I done well in so many years? Pray?”
The girl’s question was answered by a grown man’s sneer and a whistling sound.
The harsh sound of metal friction flashed, followed by the sound of a human body falling heavily to the ground. As Horn lay on the ground, the sound of something running across the muddy ground came to his ears.
...Why does this sound seem to be getting closer?
The grass blades in front of him trembled, and the rainwater fell to the ground. The splash of muddy water even fell on Horn's face.
With his eyes widened, Horn looked straight ahead.
Like Moses parting the sea, a huge plump ass suddenly parted the grass in front of him, pushing the wet soil and sliding to the tip of his nose, directly filling Horn's entire field of vision.
There was a tight feeling on his face, and Horn couldn't help but be stunned.
I don’t know why, but he always feels that the butt in front of him looks familiar.
He took a deep breath, the smell was equally familiar.
Before he could remember who it was, the butt had left Horn's sight.
Supporting the pitchfork in her hand, the girl's legs trembled and she stood up with difficulty. Her left leg moved slightly forward, and she faced the knight in front of her in a right-right iron gate stance in the art of short lance.
Thanks to the girl's action, the grass that blocked Horn's sight finally gave way.
Through the girl's legs, he saw the man who made the sound.
He is about 1.8 meters tall, has rosacea, a mustache, and a pair of dirty old yellow teeth hidden under his pale lips.
The black paint on the Milanese half-armor was washed away by the rain. In the iron gloves like dragon claws, he held a half-hand sword about one meter and four meters long.
Putting half of his sword on the disc of fine iron shoulder armor, he stared at the girl's body and licked his chapped lips with his bright red tongue.
This was a knight, Horn knew it, and even felt an inexplicable anger for no reason.
Behind the man, between him and the hut, were a group of trembling farmers and women hugging each other like quails.
Most of them wore khaki linen robes, a woolen vest, a hemp rope tied around the waist, and a hooded cloak or turban on their heads. They were barefoot. Treading in the mud.
"Your Excellency, the dispensable friendship of the Bishop, is more important than your subjects?" The girl took a step towards the man in front of her and let out a tearful roar, "We just want to survive, what do we have? Wrong? ”
“The forest is the church’s property. How can unclean people pollute the holy land if you are allowed to go into it?”
"But I have said it before. My Lord Myrcella told me in my dream last night that the forest is a treasure house given by God to the poor. As long as they are poor..."
"I find it funny when you say Myrcella. "
Before the girl could finish speaking, the knight sneered and interrupted her: "I only give you two choices, either, let me have fun once, and I will spare your life, or, Just like that brother of yours, I cut off your head!”
“You will be punished, you despicable person!” They all trembled, raised the pitchforks in their hands, and rushed towards the Lord Knight. The pitchfork brought with it a sharp sound of wind, drew an arc, and accurately stabbed the knight's neck.
But before it could be touched, the knight easily blocked the pitchfork with his strong sword, rolled the sword up at will, and almost disarmed the girl.
The girl only has one level of knight breathing skills, let alone martial arts. In front of the armored knight with the rank of knight, she can only be teased.
As the girl and the knight moved away, Horn's sight expanded once again.
Although I can't turn my head, due to the disappearance of the obstruction, the range I can see is at least much larger.
His eyes wandered around, and the location he was currently on was a low hill, at most ten meters high.
Under the hills, the turbid floods flowed slowly, with only half of the towering Moulin Rouge peeking out. Wooden boards, carriages, thatch, and corpses of people or livestock were floating in the water.
The rain rushes like waves in the wind, unable to shake the gray-white mist that seems to be solidified in the black pine forest.
There is a path in front of the black pine forest that stretches all the way to Horn. On the opposite side of the path is a headless corpse wearing a jacket.
It seems that he is the girl’s “scapegoat brother” as the knight calls him.
Death by beheading, what a king's treatment...wait!
Hey, that’s not right!
Looking at the headless corpse over there, his eyes moved hard to his chin, but no matter how hard he tried, Horn could not see or feel even a trace of his body's existence.
The scapegoat is myself? !
Before time travel, you were a dead person, and after time travel, you are still a dead person. So isn’t this time traveling in vain?
Although I had great luck before traveling through time, there was still a whole corpse!
No wonder I can only move my sight but not my perspective. When I put it together, there is only one head left.
Maybe it was because his body was easier to cool down, but Horn calmed down quickly.
According to the Yellow Fang Knight, the original owner of this body is the brother of the girl just now?
Turning his eyes again to the girl and knight who were fighting, Horn looked at the girl carefully.
She is about 1.7 meters tall and is about the age of a high school student. Her long black hair is tied into a braid and hangs down around her waist.
The men's linen shirt with sleeves and lace-up is white skin, and the lower body is animal skin breeches.
The girl wore a knee-length burqa, a slender belt tied around her slender waist, and the pitchfork in her hand danced like the wind.
Unfortunately, such an attack is neither painful nor itchy.
Even if it falls on the knight once or twice, the most it will do is rub some paint off his armor.
What kind of iron can be used for the pitchfork? It will always be very beneficial.
Compared to fighting, the knight is more like teasing the girl.
Every time, he could clearly hit her with his long sword, but he insisted on slapping her with the sword blade, constantly consuming the girl's strength.
After almost two and a half minutes, the knight finally got fed up.
Faced with the impaling pitchfork, he rushed in and reached out with his iron hand to grab the pitchfork.
Before the girl could react, the weighted ball on the hilt of the sword hit the girl hard on the head.
In an instant, the girl’s forehead swelled up and turned purple.
Staggering, the girl took three or five steps back, holding on to the pitchfork and trying to stand firm, but she still couldn't hold on and fell to the ground.
It was only then that Horn was finally able to see the girl's face clearly from the front.
Different from the rough skin of other farm girls, this girl's face is as white and flawless as delicate as suet. The black in her eyes is darker than obsidian, and the white in her eyes is whiter than white marble.
The rain wet some of her scattered strands of hair and stuck them tightly to her cheeks. She didn't know whether it was rain or tears, but they were sliding from the corners of her eyes along her cheekbones to her chin.
So familiar.
That is, that is an important person, someone who cannot be forgotten. There was a sharp pain in his brain, and Horn couldn't help but frowned, who was it? Who is it?
Jeanne Darc.
The name suddenly appeared in Horn's mind.
As if a fuse was lit, the sealed memories in his mind exploded.
New author from Qidian, please collect and recommend, please
(End of this chapter)