The Journey of the Demon Hunter

Frid kept her smile. She slowly approached the little girl. Then, her hands were slightly advanced to the skirt of the nun's dress, and she stopped before exposing the swordsman's pants, revealing only the ankles and lower legs. She looked like an ordinary nun.

"Yes, Gail, please ask me to take you to a safer place. The villain from outside the picture will threaten your safety." Frid's voice is worthy of her nun's disguise, and it is easy to bring others like The warmth of the spring breeze "Please come with me, I will take you to other places, no one will hurt you."

"Where is Grandpa Gale? Where is he, and Mr. Father, I should go find him."

The little girl asked Frid again, her eyes widened, her burgundy snake-like pupils looked at the strange nun curiously.

"Mr. Father... This is an important matter. I will notify Mr. Father after you are safe. Mr. Gale doesn’t know how long he can keep the wicked man in his arms. Someone has already arrived in the painting. Maybe he will find this place tomorrow. Chapel." Frid stretched out a pale hand, "Come on, I will show you a safe place, and after hiding, I will convey all this to Mr. Father."

Chapter 426: The Rotten Breath

It was the wolf howling in the distant forest that awakened the demon hunter.

The snowflakes outside were still falling, and the sky was still a depressed gray, and Ereder was worthy of the title of the cold country. Looking at the bonfire in front of him that was almost extinguished, with only a small amount of smoke, the demon hunter moved his stiff legs, stepped forward, and kicked out the last bit of sparks.

It snowed all night, although Zelin didn't know whether the sky darkened after he slept. He closed his eyes and opened his eyes, and the sky outside was all white. The snow in some places is so deep that it can almost bury the boots of a demon hunter. Zelin must be careful to determine where the snow is deep, whether it is solid ground under the snow, a hidden trap, or it has been pressed by the snow. The edge of a pit that is overwhelmed and cannot bear the weight of a person. Based on his previous life experience in the Kovind Snowfield, he judged as much as possible the information that the snow left him.

Some unfamiliar footprints made Zelin frowned. His head was dizzy yesterday, but he still remembered what traces he had seen nearby. He couldn't miss such obvious footprints.

These footprints are not densely divided, judging by the depth and appearance, they should be iron boots. It may be a soldier. It seems that only soldiers and knights in this world wear boots made of steel. These footsteps were scattered, Zelin couldn't use such sparse walking traces as patrol soldiers, and their forward path was shaky and irregular. Generally speaking, whether it is a sentry post or a patrol squad, even in Losric, the patrol range and regularity of those soldiers are traceable.

Living corpse? Or a heavily armed villager?

Maybe it's an acrobat.

Before reaching the suspension bridge, the demon hunter saw a living corpse wearing iron boots. The face of this living corpse has long turned pale with the blow of the wind and snow. It is wearing leather and chain mail, like a soldier, but the weapons in his hand are not swords, spears or other common weapons. It is a torch burning with raging flames. The dark and dull eye sockets stared at Zelin, who was approaching it. Zelin knew that these living corpses would not be conscious, they would only retain their instincts before they were alive, just like the high wall of Losric, patrolling back and forth and taking care of everything. The corpses of the soldiers of the invaders are the same.

He is alone. The reason is very simple. One leg of the living corpse was injured during his lifetime, and under the torn chain armor, the lower half of the leg seemed to be hanging on the body. It leaned against the rock on the side, swinging its legs as it did before alive, but the speed of advancement might barely be faster than the crawling of a sea turtle.

When the demon hunter walked to a place less than 20 meters away from him, the living corpse screamed and staggered towards him, just like when dealing with the enemy in his lifetime, the rusty armor rushed along with it. Ringing. It brandished a torch and stood about five meters away from the target, as if it had confirmed the safe distance, or the range of attack. The next moment, he raised the torch to the front, like a magic warlock performing magic. He blew the torch, and the hot tongue of fire rushed towards Zelin.

Zelin jumped back, avoiding the rushing flames. This is like the way a gliding lizard sprays flames, except that the gliding lizard can only spray flames forward, but this torch can sweep through all the targets in front of it under the control of the living corpse soldiers. If this is not an effect made with the help of some supernatural force, this must be a good weapon invention. The distance of the sprayed flame is almost three meters, and the effect is no less than that of the flames of Ignatius.

The gushing tongue of fire lasted for about five seconds, and Zelin raised his hand to strike Alderfayin as if he was taking a deep breath, preparing to knock the flame-spitting corpse to the ground again with the torch. He jumped over and nailed the enemy to the ground with a long sword.

The hand of the living corpse slumped weakly to the side of the snow, the torch in his hand fell on the snow, rolled a few times, hit a wooden stake on the side and stopped. Surprisingly, the tip of the torch did not dim, on the contrary, it showed a state of burning red soldering iron. Zelin picked up the torch carefully, avoiding the top, and wrapped the bottom of it with a wooden strip and hung it around his waist.

This is something of research value.

In other words, no matter whether it is valuable or not, something that can surprise you, take it home and talk about it, maybe you will find a valuable technology. Since Yanan found the runner to improve the crossbow for him, he has been paying attention to novel weapons.

Go back to the previous place and follow the wooden ladder all the way into the canyon. Although the snowflakes have been floating, the snow mist is no longer as dense as when Zelin first arrived. The broken rope bridge of the canyon is still hanging on the rocks on both sides, and a few black birds are standing on the broken wooden board on the side of the chapel. , The distance was a little far away, Zelin couldn't see exactly what they looked like. As the demon hunter descended, he gradually noticed that on the huge tree roots winding to the left of the canyon, there seemed to be some heavily armed warriors standing. And at the end of the river that is not, a four-story circular building emerges from the fog.

It was a building that resembled the arena that Zelin saw in Rome, but it was much smaller than the remains of the arena in Rome.

Along the artificially constructed ladder all the way down, there are huge cones of ice hanging from the cliff, crystal clear like a gem. Sliding down the soil slope, the village wall described by the person I met before came into view.

The smell at the bottom of the canyon is much warmer than the top of the mountain, and there is not so much snow on the ground. Beech trees and knee-high weeds can be seen everywhere. The surrounding walls of the village are almost four meters high, and there is even some unmelted water around the village. The village is built on a mountain. Outside the high walls, you can see the high building roofs in the village. These are piled up with gray stones and bricks. The completed building is different from the undead settlement. The building here is a more common brick house. It is not so much a village. Considering the outer walls, Zelin feels that it can be called a town. It seems that because of the obstacles of the high cliffs, the snowflakes below have become sparsely scattered.

Everything still seems normal, at least temporarily.

There is only one person in Frid, and she won't be too far ahead of Zellin, find the eldest lady and priest that Gale said, all this is estimated to be over.

Walking along the **** towards the village wall, the door is open when viewed from a distance. But soon, something gentle and soft suddenly stepped on to attract the attention of the demon hunter.

A humanoid creature with a sharp beak, resembling a crow, was lying on the ground. Its silt-colored skin made Zelin not notice, and when he walked down the slope, he stepped on his arm.

"Oh... I'm sorry." Zelin took a step back and said to the creature on the ground that should be called the arakkoa. It really looks like a raven with stripped feathers. "I didn't notice you, uh...you Are you here to bask in the sun?" He raised his eyes and looked at the white sky and the falling snow, and shrugged "Okay, I'm really sorry, are you a villager here?"

The arakkoa cocked his pointed mouth, looking at the demon hunter, then dropped his head feebly, and continued to lie on the ground without saying a word.

Is this a strange religious ceremony? The religion here is called Baijiao, and there are strange white-robed people guarding the picture scroll. Even if a group of arakkoa now appears in front of Zelin, dancing around the flames, he will not be surprised. After all, he has seen too many strange religious ceremonies.

Zelin frowned, and slowly walked around this and the other arakkoa in the pond outside the door of the village. With doubts in his heart, he walked into the village with the door open.

Chapter 427: The Shackles of God

Don't worry, we will succeed...

Step by step, stepping on the cold bluestone slab, feeling the cold touch on his feet, and the chill in the secret room that almost invaded the bone marrow, Frid's hand on his chest was clenched into a fist. In the secret room under the chapel, there is Eleder's secret. Frid knows what it is. After entering this world, the desire for flame in the soul is pulling her. She is the ashes, the ashes after being burned, the remnant soul after being burned by the flames.

The steps gradually came to the end, and the underground of the chapel was a rectangular secret room larger than the entire chapel. Two-meter-high candlesticks stand on both sides of the secret room, facing each other every seven meters. The sun shines through the deepest and high vertical windows. There are two stone piles on the vertical windows, which evenly disperse the incoming sunlight and spread it on the ground at the end of the secret room, reflecting a bright white. There is no glass blocking the windows, and the whole secret room is built in the rocks below the chapel. The cold wind is constantly flowing in, carrying snowflakes, blowing candlelight swaying back and forth, and the shadow of the candlestick erratic on the wall.

The ground is not so smooth. It is conceivable that the ground of this secret room in the past must have been paved with neat stone slabs, but with time, no matter how solid the ground is, there will be signs of wear. After the falling snowflakes melted, they gathered into small puddles in the pits on the ground. Frid stepped into the puddle, and the coldness that penetrated into the musculature could not make the nun's eyes move a bit.

Flame.

The empty soul yearns for the flame, and the remnant soul after being burned longs for filling.

On both sides of the secret room, neat mahogany screens are carved with spires and murals connected with each other, as if imitating a city, a majestic city. Frid knew where this was depicting, the place that brought the whole world a shackle, and the secret hidden in the secret room, where it was once stored.

The king's city of God, Yanorrond.

A bright golden bowl taller than a person lay quietly in the depths of the secret room. A tall, extraordinary man sits on a special huge wooden chair. He looked down at the golden basin in front of him, so focused that when the nun walked halfway to the secret room, he didn't notice the intrusion of the uninvited guest.

In the golden basin, some sparks burst out continuously. The nun knew what it was. When the first undead hero turned into Chai Xin to spread the fire, the king weapon carried a trace of fire and was hidden in the picture. Even when the flames outside finally fell into an irreversible crisis, the world would remain. With a trace of fire. Fride approached the royal weapon step by step, and the ashes longed for the flame, longing for the flame to fill the empty body of the soul after burning.

Uncontrollable impulse.

A moan from the soul.

Longing to be wrapped in flames, longing to be burned, longing to be filled.

As long as there is no fire remaining ashes, it will crave flames.

As long as there is no fire remaining ashes, you will long for flames.

After being ignited by the initial fire, the ashes remaining in the flame, the remaining soul remains will be like begging to return to their hometown, expecting to get the flame again, even if they are like the undead before their lives, they will kill, and then take more souls, and finally will oneself Become firewood.

This is a characteristic of ashes.

Frid has helpless, but extremely hated characteristics.

"Why did you come here."

I don't know when, Frid has already walked to the king's weapon, and a burst of sparks appeared in front of her.

"Hey, are you here to see this flame?"

Tall, like a priest of giant descent and a joyful question to the nun, the priest is wearing a wide dress, and the bulges on both sides of the back of the dress outline the outline of the arakkoa wings. The priest's words couldn't match his terrifying face at all. As if he was concerned whether the nun could hear his voice clearly, the priest kindly bent down and asked Frid again.

"Ah, what's your name, uh..." The priest scratched his face with sharp nails, and his hairy face showed a confused look. "I don't recognize you very much. I've been here for too long."

Just a little bit, just a little bit forward, the flame, the warm, warm flame, the flame within your fingertips. The fire light reflected on Frid's face hidden under the hood, jumping on her cheeks, shining in her eyes. The flame, driven by the mutilated soul, is shouting, eager to bathe in the flame again. The satisfaction from the soul, the joy from the heart, the joy that she hates.

"I'm Frid, Mr. Father."

The nun bent down slightly.