Chapter 1161 Journey to Valhalla (Part 2)

This thin old woman's head could only reach Salomon's chest. Even her steps were trembling. She looked older than everyone in this hall. No matter how the king brags about the old woman's identity, Salomon is after all a strong man with a height of two meters. He is unwilling to participate in such a battle without any honor and is unwilling to hurt such a thin old woman, but this is The final challenge, which he must win or remain in Vallahar.

"Are you ready, madam?" Salomon took a stance and relaxed his shoulders, trying not to cause too much harm to the old woman. "I will be gentle and won't hurt you."

Hearing this, the old woman laughed, revealing her toothless and shriveled gums. Then she rushed over, with astonishing speed. She knelt down and locked one of Salomon's legs with her arms. Salomon immediately felt that his legs had become weak where the old woman touched him, and his thin, seemingly frail arms had amazing strength.

Salomon immediately changed his attitude and tried to push her or step back and trip her, freeing her from the restraints and letting her fall to the ground, but she remained rock solid and motionless. The old woman's strength went all the way up Salomon's spine, causing his knees to begin to bend. Salomon pushed her with all his strength, but still could not stop the old woman from lifting him up and jumping on her. The old woman, who looked no heavier than a sheep, crushed him.

The onlookers began to count down and banged their wine glasses on the long table. Even the ghosts in the corridor roared loudly. Exhausted human slaves shuttled among the warriors, pouring wine and serving meat to them. Often the wine glass would be empty the next second after they had poured it out. They had to go back and forth many times while also being careful not to be touched by the broken bones on the ground. stumble. When the count was up, the old woman staggered off Salomon's chest, as if Salomon had accidentally broken her bones, and it was not Salomon who was lying on the ground but her.

"Best of three games, the old maid won the first game!" The king laughed loudly, "Give this boy some mead, he must not have drunk enough, otherwise he can't even fall over the old lady! Drink quickly, hurry up Drink, don’t keep the poor old lady waiting too long!”

Salomon got up from the ground, took the mead and drank it all in one gulp.

The second round began, and this time Salomon did not underestimate the enemy. When the old woman squeezed towards him and wanted to repeat the same trick, Salomon quickly grabbed the old woman's shoulder. The thin shoulders and slender bones were no stronger than a threaded steel bar, but when he grabbed the shoulder, he found that the old woman's shoulders were as stable as the Himalayas where he had lived since childhood. But the old woman grabbed his biceps tightly and pushed him with the terrifying force of a giant beast, as if she was not an old woman but an evil beast living in the galaxy--although Salo Meng tried his best to fight against it, but the old woman's strength continued to torture his bones, muscles and internal organs. At this moment, he seemed to be in the heavy snow outside the house again, weakness and cold seeping into his body from the outside to the inside. His joints were stiff and his vision was blurry. It was as if the weight of the whole world was pressing on him, forcing him to kneel down on one knee.

The soldiers knocked on the table and started the countdown.

It wasn't until the old woman let go of her hand that Salomon, who was covered in mud, reeds and broken ice, stood up unsteadily amidst the laughter of the soldiers.

"You lost again, human king!" the king roared. "The best warrior among humans can't defeat an old woman? Boy, let me add another rule. As long as you can defeat her this time, I will sentence you to Win. You have one last chance, how about that?"

In the third game, Salomon took the lead. When he pushed the old woman's shoulders, he seemed to hit a war engine. The force that could lift a mountain could not push the old woman at all. With all his strength, he could only force the old woman to take a half-step back. Even so, the fur-clad warriors present also uttered exclamations from their throats, and the white-haired king on the throne stood up in surprise. It was the old woman's turn to fight back. She grabbed Salomon's shoulders with the same trick, and then the strength drained from his body. Wrinkles climbed up his originally young cheeks, and the calcium fell from the increasingly fragile bones. Fleeing, the long black hair hidden under the wolfskin hood turned gray from the roots.

Death knocked on his door, and inevitable aging found him. The king of the undead breathed a sigh of relief and sat back on the throne.

Salomon looked into the old woman's empty and confused eyes, which were close at hand. He straightened his back, causing his spine to make a tooth-wrenching squeak. His expression was not ferocious with excessive force, but calm with anger. He had sensed something was wrong from the moment he came to this snowfield. "I refuse." He whispered to the old woman, and then his eyes burst into dazzling light. "No matter what tricks you want to play, I refuse." The high temperature far exceeding the fire erupted from the air around him. When he came out, the ice cubes formed by the mead on the reed mud began to melt, the wrinkles faded from his face, the gray hair returned to jet black, and the bones became strong again.

He slowly stood up, and with the strength he didn't know where to come from, he pressed down the old woman's arm bit by bit. He struggled to get up and threw the old woman named Aging to the ground, even smashing the granite into pieces. The noisy warriors suddenly lost the courage to look at him. No one tapped their wine glasses on the long table. Even the ghosts in the dark corridor stopped whispering and stared at him nervously.

"I know who you are. You are aging. No one can defeat aging. This is true for everyone. Those humans who die from aging are your slaves. Except for me, I will not become your prey!" Salomon spat at the old woman lying on the ground and looked at the King of the Undead on the high platform. "I abide by the ancient etiquette, but you tease me again and again." He charged the King of the Dead, "Just like you let the irresistible and unstoppable aging against me. You let your warriors bring it The chalice that holds the ocean, deceived me into trying to drink up the entire ocean, and after three sips I made the entire ocean fall. Your wolf is Helheim itself, the death that no one can shake, the end for all.”

The King of the Undead picked up the spear and stood up from the throne. The face under the eagle helmet quickly decayed, revealing yellow bones. "Then who am I! Answer the question, King of Men!"

"You are Odin, you have violated ancient etiquette, and you are cursed!"

Dazzling firelight condensed in Salomon's hands. As soon as the scorching holy sword appeared, it immediately ignited the reeds spread on the wet soil. The dark corridor was illuminated, and the ghostly creatures immediately screamed and fled. Hundreds of warriors wearing wolf skins stood up at the same time and grabbed their own weapons from the weapons pile. They were so impatient that they overturned the long table and stools, and scattered the mead and meat on the floor. Salomon kicked over Freki, who was swinging the ax at him, and then swung his sword and cut off the arm holding the axe. Warriors armed with weapons swarmed in. Giant axes, swords, warhammers and shields squeezed every inch of space in front of him - they let out creepy, animal-like roars, and their twisted shadows transformed into wolf-shaped monsters. , the wolf skin on their bodies gradually merged with their bodies, changing their bones and muscles, turning their fingers into claws and their teeth into fangs.

These half-human, half-wolf warriors became more and more fierce and bloodthirsty. The spine-chilling wolf howls sounded one after another in the hall. The mystic mage waved his weapon and fought hard. He cut off the long sword wielded by the werewolf and thrust out the holy sword. The shield was pierced together with the warrior behind who began to mutate into a wolf. He killed Sigmund and his sister's children and Xingfuyoute, and killed the giant wolves Frech and Killy. When he cut down one, the next half-wolf warrior rushed over, dripping with wet wolf blood. The wet ground had just condensed into ice before it melted due to the heat of the holy sword.

The sounds of weapons clashing and angry cries of killing replaced the sounds of laughter and drinking, and the aroma of roast meat and mead was replaced by the stench of the excrement and entrails of the dying. Salomon stepped on the wolf corpse onto the high platform and approached Odin, the Lord of the Undead. The latter was indifferent to Salomon's killing, but stared at him with festering eyeballs.

"Tell me, why do you want me to appear here?" Salomon looked ferocious as he crushed the head of a half-wolf warrior. His bloodthirsty and ferocity are not much worse than those of the werewolf warriors. His wolfskin coat is covered with traces of greasy blood and dark mead, and his feet are full of smashed, chopped and trampled objects. Bone residue and minced meat.

"As you said, the overlords of the old era should die." Odin's voice hissed due to the damaged windpipe and rotten cheeks. "This world is about to be destroyed, and all my people will die. Asgard's ascension has failed, and the future belongs only to humans. I see in you the potential to defeat the enemy, and I want to make a deal with you. No tricks, no deception, you've earned my respect."

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