On the mound stood the Salvation Army, in the hollow stood the Salvation Army, within five or six meters around him, also stood the Salvation Army.
Apart from the twenty or so imperial knight bodyguards left by his side, he could hardly spot the figures of those knights.
The last knights fled under the sunset, and the mercenaries surrendered in formation.
Countless black and red flags almost obscured the sky, the golden-red sunlight fell on the mound, rows of Salvation Army soldiers looked like golden sculpted holy images in the Holy Hall.
These golden sculpted holy images were shouting, as if they were crying yet roaring:
"Holy Pope, the golden scepter... Knight King, the silver embroidered bed..."
"The ones who sow wheat eat chaff! The weavers have no clothes!"
The farmers and small citizens in the Salvation Army shouted in unison, first in a pause, then they gritted their teeth and roared:
"When Eve and Adam plow, the noble gentlemen sit in high halls?"
