This Group of Players Are All Slimes

The frontline commander feels that something is wrong with his barracks recently.

Although this is a military camp in name, it is more appropriate to say that it is a large slaughterhouse.

Some hopeless scum, gangsters, and degenerates are sent here, and they will be sent to the battlefield the next day, and then they will be trampled into meat paste by the swarming corpses on the third day.

The city wall here is completely made of stones mixed with corpses. Flesh and bones are mixed in the clay. After being exposed to the sun, it becomes a relatively strong city wall. Those walking corpses must spend a lot of effort to break through the city wall.

The survival rate of the exiles sent here is only 30% after the first impact, and most of them can only understand how to find a bunker after the first time, and how to encourage those newcomers to stick to the city wall and hide behind , How to cut off the head of the dead companion and pretend to be a military exploit in exchange for tonight's dinner.

When the walking dead are not attacking, they will wander around the battlefield and search, a bag or two of tobacco can make them fight, or do some very disgusting things to the shaking walking dead.

The commander's personal soldiers will not do such things. They don't need to go to the battlefield. The most important task is to protect the commander and prevent those scum from rebelling or escaping.

But right now, those people are not in the right place.

They started by gathering hard branches from the ground and grinding them into long poles, they started by shaping stones and grinding them into disks, they erected two parallel branches on the ground and put a length of about a meter in the middle Five trunks.

In their spare time, they did not collect loot, but used the props they built in groups of three or four.

The commander thought that this group of people was preparing to rebel, but when he saw that this group of people began to use these props to perform so-called "dumbbell presses", "deadlifts" and "squats", he felt that the situation was a bit weird.

What was even weirder was the newcomer Luo Lin.

The tall and burly man walked among the scum with his upper body bare, shaking his breasts from time to time, and uttering deafening slogans.

"What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger!"

"No pain, no gain!"

"One more, one more, you can do it!"

"Pay attention to drinking water and protein! Eat well to train well! What is our goal!"

"Muscle!" roared a scumbag who was practicing deadlifts,

Sweat mixed with saliva splashed everywhere.

"Very good! Then what is our ultimate goal!"

"More muscle!"

"Excellent! Keep going!"

The commander with a haggard face and drinking inferior wine frowned and looked at the scene below, and then called his adjutant.

"How long have they been like this?" the commander asked, pointing to the people below.

"Three days."

"Why didn't you report it to me?"

"It has been reported, together with the camp beef consumption record."

The commander rummaged through the messy table for a long time, and finally found both records.

"Last month, 310 cows were consumed, and each cow cost 32 copper coins. Has the price of beef increased recently?"

"The cattle breeder said that all the cattle have gone to evacuate recently, and there are not many cattle left."

"Let those senior officers eat less cattle, once a week is too much. Why are there still bulls?"

"People's tastes will always change. You should continue to read another report."

The commander gave his cronies a hard look, but he could only shake his head helplessly, and began to read another report.

Although he is the commander here in name, he also knows that he is just a decoration and a blame.

Victory has nothing to do with me, but it is very likely that I will be transferred to the trial court. If I fail, I will be the first to go to the trial court. Anyway, it is a dead end, so I might as well be happier.

After finishing half a bottle of wine, the inferior taste made him feel a little nauseous, but he still resisted the urge to vomit to suppress that feeling.

After all, only when he was drunk could he forget the unpleasantness here.

Flipping through the report dizzily, he felt that he knew every word on it, but he couldn't connect them together.

Throwing the report away, he pulled up his crumpled military uniform and staggered out.

"Where are you going?" his adjutant called after him.

"Go meet that guy."

Walking in front of Luo Lin, he glanced at the scum who were still actively exercising and ignoring him, and then locked his eyes on Luo Lin.

"Rorin? I don't care who you were before... hiccup...remember! Here... hiccup... I have the final say!"

Stepping forward, he lit half a cigar, took a puff, and crushed the cigar directly on Rollin's chest, then jumped up and grabbed Rollin's hair, trying to give him a big blow.

However, he obviously underestimated the effect of alcohol. Instead of allowing him to grab the opponent's hair, he slipped and fell heavily to the ground.

The impact of the landing made his stomach tumbling again, and the low-quality wine mixed with stomach acid poured out and splashed on the stinky clothes, making the commander look extremely embarrassed at this moment.

Several exiles wanted to laugh, but Luo Lin raised his hand to stop them.

Looking at the group of exiles, Luo Lin asked loudly: "Article 113!"

The exiles subconsciously stood up and shouted loudly: "Don't laugh at others when they are down, and don't show off when others are down!"

"Just understand! Continue!"

Bending down, Luo Lin carried the commander who was vomiting uncontrollably to his chapel, healed him with his fists, then wiped the commander's face and hands, and served him milk.

Then, he personally washed the commander's clothes quickly, squeezed out the last drop of water from the clothes with brute force and hung them up before sitting opposite the commander.

"Is it better?"

"Keep your voice down, my head is starting to hurt now." The commander rubbed his head and said.

"That's because your physique is too weak! You need to strengthen your body so that you can get a good physique, and drinking alcohol will be extra exciting!"

"You think everyone is the same as you." In the corner of the room, the divine painter who was still painting said dissatisfiedly, "Don't impose your twisted common sense like fried dough sticks on others, okay?"

"You are very dissatisfied with me, divine painter!"

"I've been drawing muscles for three days, and now I feel like throwing up when I see you! When can I stop!"

"Come on, I don't want to care about these things!"

"I care! No one told me that it would be so troublesome when the psionic weapon is awakened!"

The commander squinted his eyes and looked at the divine painter who was speaking, feeling that he might be really drunk.

Otherwise, why would I see a slime who can draw and talk.

After he recovered a little, he stood up and put on the dried military uniform.

Rejecting Luo Lin's company, he walked to the door and stopped, and said to Luo Lin behind him, "I owe you this time, but don't expect this to change my opinion of you."

"I don't expect it either! I just have to be myself!"

"Hehe, I hope."

"Wait a moment!"

The commander who was suddenly stopped turned his head: "What's the matter? Hurry up if you have any needs, and I will satisfy them as appropriate."

"I don't know your name yet!"

"Does that kind of thing make sense... Forget it, I am Ferdinand II, a poor fellow who has been deprived of his title."