Xianzun becomes a showman as soon as he loses his memory

It's a problem!

After the high priest Mengsang heard this, he couldn't help but twirled the beard on his chin and pondered for a long time, and finally made a heavy decision: "Raise them up first, and give them less food, just enough to ensure their survival. "

"If you still can't afford it in the future, then kill it later!"

After finishing speaking, he hurriedly added: "Not only those adults, but also those children, you don't need to feed them too much, as long as you don't starve to death!"

Anyway, sooner or later they are going to die.

His subordinates nodded yes, and were about to retire to do work, but the high priest Mengsang called him again, and said with a smile on his face: "Let the warriors rest for a night tonight, and we will go to capture more tomorrow." Lots of offerings."

He pointed far away, and said in a trembling voice: "How many people can be captured in the nearby small village? Not far from this camp, there is a city with a population of tens of thousands."

"As long as we capture that city tomorrow, then we will be able to capture more sacrifices—"

He encouraged everyone's morale quite loudly.

"What sacrifice?"

Behind him, there was a sudden and cold voice.

The high priest Mengsang was startled for a moment, not realizing that there was a person behind him at any time, he immediately grabbed the staff in his hand and looked behind him warily.

Under this look, he was almost frightened out of his wits.

The person quietly appeared behind him, black clothes and black eyes, black hair loose, pale face, with a cold and dead breath, looked over suddenly, almost the evil god who smashed their temple the day before yesterday.

How could the god of death in everyone's nightmare be in this place?

Mengsang panicked for a while, but after he panicked, he realized that the person in front of him didn't seem to be the god of death from the day before yesterday.

Although they were very similar, the black-haired and fair-skinned man in front of him had a younger face, almost a teenager, with an empty and narrow scabbard hanging obliquely from his waist, and there was no sword in the scabbard that should have existed.

At this moment, the young Reaper, who seemed to be a miniature version, spoke again, his voice still cold.

"What sacrifice are you talking about...?"