chapter 55

Chapter 31 Madman, Poet and Traveler

Chapter 222 Madman, Poet and Traveler

"Anchor!"

"Anchor!"

The sword blade split the curse, and "Twilight Lieutenant General" Bulatov Ivan raised his head and roared behind him.

All the sailors who were still able to move on the bow and stern of the "Twilight Messenger" roared back, passed orders to each other, pushed the huge winch, veins burst out on their foreheads and arms, and used their knives to cut off the hemp ropes that tightened the iron chains. The anchor dropped instantly, breaking four distinct bubble trajectories in the endless deep blue.

Dropping anchor in a naval battle often means fighting to the death, so when Bulatov's order first spread, the followers of the "Mother Tree of Desire" who were immersed in killing and mania did not react immediately and tried to obstruct the implementation of the order. Instead, they Everyone yelled excitedly, with saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths, vowing to squeeze out the last drop of blood from the enemy.

But soon, several "living corpses" who still retained a few cubic centimeters of brains smelled the clues.

They were horrified to find that the severed winch lock was no longer on the "Twilight Messenger", and the clanging sound of sword blades and iron chains clashing came from their ship!

The one that was nailed to death by the anchor was the "Treasure Tree of Blood"!

The Loen Navy was less than twenty nautical miles away from them, and the two hundred cannons were hungry and thirsty. How could they escape?

There was a rumble and muffled sound from the bottom of the sea. The thick iron chain around the waist pulled the winch and pulled the "Treasure Tree of Blood" down a few notches in the water. The wood of the ship's shell exploded and the sound of creaking was heard endlessly, stimulating this person. The crazy Southern Continent sailor was dizzy, staggering around and almost losing the ability to fight.

"Boneless coward!"

The sharp claws covered with thick black short hair swept down a group of pirates like scythes. Dozens of heads were thrown high under Senior's attack, and the bright red and warm blood poured on the "Blood Admiral" in the form of "werewolf" His face was stained red and his eyes were red.

"Damn giant bastard coward!"

Gomora, the first mate of the "Blood Treasure Tree", died under the "Guardian" sword. His iron body was split diagonally along the collarbone by the Dawn Sword, and pain and numbness remained on his face.

Butatov Ivan stepped on Gomora's broken chest. His silver armor reflected the scorching sun at noon and shone brightly, like a knight stepping out of an epic storybook.

He watched indifferently as Senior, who had fallen into madness, slaughtered his crew, with a sarcastic curve on his lips, and suddenly tightened his grip on the giant sword.

The half-giant's feet, clad in silver light, suddenly exploded with great force. As the wooden deck exploded and cracked, he crossed the distance between him and the "werewolf" in a few steps, dragging the heavy long sword in front of Senior's eyes.

The "Guardian" swung the giant sword and slashed at the hair-covered claws of the "Werewolf". The blade and sharp horns kept emitting the sizzling sound of burning flames and an unpleasant stench, making it impossible to move forward any further.

Senior, who maintained both the "werewolf" form and the "living corpse" characteristics at the same time, laughed ferociously, tightened the muscles of his animal-like legs, and pushed forward slowly and with difficulty but determination, temporarily overpowering Bulatov. .

Having also experienced a bloody battle, this pirate general did not completely arouse the madness in his heart by drinking blood like his companions.

The number and strength of the pirates under the "Treasure Tree of Blood" are far greater than that of the "Twilight Messenger". In addition to fighting against him, the captain of the "Treasure Tree of Blood", Bulatov also has to deal with other "alien species". After setting off several storms of light, at least half of the spirituality in the body was evaporated. After several hard battles, it was difficult to quickly prepare a powerful attack.

He always maintains the most basic sense, just for this moment!

"go to hell!"

The extreme emotions were reflected on Senior's "werewolf" face, causing the black face covered by stubby wolf hair to appear strangely red.

Relying solely on the strength of his body, Senior's arms bulged with veins, and he pushed the rock-steady half-giant at once, causing Bulatov's feet to slip and fall backwards.

A scream and howl containing a vicious curse spurted out. Under the knight's visor, Bulatov's clear eyes, dilated with fear, instantly lost the outline of the "werewolf" and could only barely capture a vague ghost.

Senior suddenly entered the "ghost" state!

The invisible spirit body is not affected by the wind and moves unimpeded in the air. Without prohibitions to block it, just a thought can ignore the silver armor.

Ivan Bulatov never thought of this possibility.

"Alien species" are a way for chaos and evil to extend. "Warriors" with purification abilities are their natural enemies. Any curse that attempts to directly target "warriors" will be easily resolved by Dawn and Glory. This is what Senior only dared to do before. The reason why he fights with the "werewolf" state that is the most outstanding in hand-to-hand combat.

Brainless bastard, doesn't he want to live? As if falling into the sea of ​​ice, Bulatov Ivan suddenly felt that his body and thoughts were stagnating inch by inch, and he was about to fall into eternal silence and be frozen forever. under death.

Stimulated by the will to survive, he clenched his fists, and the long sword constructed of dawn in his hands temporarily lost its luster, and then a more dazzling and pure dawn burst out from his seven orifices.

This time the "Guardian" did not choose to detonate the sword and set off a storm of light, but used his body as firewood to burn the dawn!

The blazing silvery white burned brightly, burning away the curse deposited on the surface of Bulatov's armor, burning away the several "alien species" that tried to get close to him, burning away his last calmness, and yet no one could hear anything coming from his body. The shrill screams.

The confident try broke Bulatov's composure.

Maintaining the "Storm of Light" is extremely spiritually draining, as is the power to ignite the dawn within the body.

His spirituality is about to burn out. Why hasn't the effect of Senior's "haunted spirit" possessed him gone?

Could it be that that guy has gone crazy and wants to die with him?

The pale face with deep-set eyes belonging to Senior occupied Bulatov's blue eyes, clearly reflected in his mind, and made him laugh evilly.

Compared to when he maintained his "werewolf" form, Senior did have a lot more burn marks all over his body. Scorches and cuts could be seen everywhere, but they were far from the point where he was about to die with Bulatov who was exhausted.

Countless mirror fragments fell out of thin air from the deck where he stood before he transformed into a "revengeful spirit", clanking out a messy melody, and there were indelible burn lines on the smooth mirror surface.

Seeing this scene, Bulatov almost despaired.

Mirror stand-ins are the mirror stand-ins of the "witches"!

As a "Guardian", a pirate who has been at sea for many years, he knows the little tricks of the "Witch" all too well.

But he never expected that Senior would actually carry several "substitute" charms made from the "witch's" ability, specifically targeting him.

The remaining spirituality is not even enough to continue to maintain the Dawn Armor, which is almost a death sentence for Bulatov!

Lacking the protection of armor and the ability of a broadsword to split metal, he was unable to fight the "alien" with a body of steel.

Die!

Senor roared in Bulatov's mind, and the tall half-giant closed his eyes.

"Captain!"

Death did not come as promised. The moment after Senior roared, Bulatov heard a familiar yet unfamiliar voice coming from his right rear.

He saw the dawn, and saw a sword of dawn that did not belong to him suddenly appear in front of his eyes, slashing into the void where the spiritual light flickered.

The silver-white rapier pierced the flesh and blood, and blood flowers exploded from the tip of the sword, miraculously pulling the stunned and shocked "Blood Admiral" out of the void and "revengeful soul" state.

Even with the sword of the Purifying Dawn penetrating deep into the bones, Senior could not understand why he was thrown out of Bulatov's body in just a moment of trance and stiffness.

He glared at the enemy who was halfway out, his blood-red eyes wide open, his mouth wrapped with thick lips opened to the limit, and transparent sound waves were instantly released with extremely strong impact.

However, in the face of the scream, the attacker simply turned sideways and moved the corners of his mouth slightly.

He was like a shadow separated from reality, completely unaffected by shocks and curses, and passed through the fatal attack.

Immediately afterwards, the attacker's wrist holding the Sword of Dawn suddenly turned, and a hotter sun flame erupted along the thin straight sword. The light of heaven blew the shattered dawn, and a silvery white semicircle instantly enveloped the three of them. The falling "Chu Yang" dug a regular round hole in the middle of the deck of the "Treasure Tree of Blood".

After a long time, the dust and sawdust fell away amid the noise of the artillery, revealing the two figures in the center of the dawn.

"Captain, he ran away."

The storm of light shredded the base of the mast, and the long milky-white poles carved from skulls collapsed. Along with many ghosts parasitic in the corpses, they were completely wiped out, and they lost their shelter in the world.

"Just run, we can't stop him."

Bulatov was not surprised by the enemy's escape. He was neither discouraged nor thankful, and was unusually indifferent.

"The fight between the demigods and Loen Dogs of the 'Rose School' is almost over. Jacks has the ability to kill three ships, but he will not risk his life on enemies below demigods. These bastards are always inexplicably arrogant. ."

"When the Loen Dogs calm down and calm down, they will deal with us soon..."

As he said that, Bulatov Ivan tugged on his open collar again, glanced at a flesh and blood pirate ship where Senior's figure reappeared, and then looked to the side with complicated eyes.

He was very familiar with the man with black hair and eyes, a tall skull and profound features, but he clearly saw the owner of this face fall during the battle and then never get up again.

Damn... Bulatov cursed in a low voice, waved his hand casually, and shouted at the top of his voice, regardless of whether the "resurrected" subordinate next to him was a human or a ghost.

"Go back, everyone, go back to the boat and go home!"

After experiencing a fierce battle, the pirates of the Feysac bloodline had long lost their will to fight, and they relied entirely on the majesty of "Vice Admiral Dusk" to hold them together.

When they heard the leader's order, the order suddenly collapsed. No one cared about their unslit throats. They grabbed weapons and trophies one after another, abandoned their opponents and ran to the flagship. While escaping, they did not forget to destroy the equipment they had set up when they came to join the gang. The rope, regardless of whether there are any companions behind who haven't had time to catch up.

The shells fell like a rain. As Bulatov Ivan expected, after Senior missed, Jacks also immediately ended his response to the ceremony. He had already relied on the gift of the "Mother Tree of Desire" and the "Puppet" to His special ability in the spiritual world cast a shadow, and he was unable to continue fighting to the death with the "Punishing Knight" equipped with the first-level sealed object of the corresponding path and the support of three battleships, so he ran back to the spiritual world in despair.

The pirates fled in all directions. Some followed Senior to escape from the battlefield, and some hurriedly raised their sails to try to clear each other's blocked ships and clear a smooth path for the "Twilight Messenger".

In the chaos, the originally famous "Treasure Tree of Blood" turned into garbage that no one cared about. It was abandoned in the middle of the sea of ​​​​fire, allowing cheap cannonballs to bury this valuable pirate general's flagship.

The black flag that looked like solidified blood fell down, and the scarlet thorn tree pattern disappeared into the sea of ​​fire. The "Twilight Messenger" had taken the remaining ships to escape from the Loen navy's siege.

In the boundless milky white fog, only a few hundred meters of small vehicles were like mayflies. The injured pirates were lying on the deck, sticking out their tongues like stranded fish, and kept chanting the name of the God of War. , expecting this god who dominates battles to symbolize glory to bless the lowest believers.

"Weilkov."

The mellow and deep voice sounded several times. It wasn't until even the unconscious wounded man struggled to raise his head and looked curiously. Klein, who was looking at the sea and the ruins of the battlefield in the distance, realized that this was "Vice Admiral Dusk" calling him.

The secret puppet Giorgia walked out of the shadows and came to the master's side despite the wary gazes of several people who had been staring at him for a long time.

The corners of Klein's mouth curled up slightly. He had no intention of pretending carefully, and at this moment he simply gave up on pretense. Instead of pretending to be stupid, he raised his hand and wiped it on his face, removing the illusion that covered his body.

The hem of the unsociable coat is floating in the wind, and the neat and formal look is incompatible with the environment. The cold and biting light spots on the mirror mask make people unable to feel the warmth of the sun.

Facing Vice Admiral Dusk who was sitting in front of the mast, Klein put his hand on his chest and saluted in a standard manner.

"I'm sorry, your crew stayed on Senior's flagship. The situation was urgent and I didn't have time to think too much."

Exclamations and curses came one after another. Bulatov under the mast was not infected by the excitement and panic of his subordinates at all. He just nodded, then took out the narrow saber from his waist and thrust it into the deck.

Suddenly, everything fell silent.

"'Faceless Man', no, 'Secret Puppet Master', are you a member of the Secret Order?"

The pirate general's expression was calm, more like stating the facts than questioning.

Glancing at the "Witch" marionette who exposed her true sequence, Klein couldn't deny it.

"You can think so."

Only now did he notice that after taking off his helmet, under the knight's visor of "Vice Admiral Dusk" was a face that looked very Fusac-like, exactly the same as the melancholy Slav in his memory, with refreshing blond hair and clear blue eyes. His eyes, coupled with his restrained speech after leaving the fighting environment, really gave him a bit of a poet's temperament.

Slavic poet. UU reading www.uukanshu.net

The painful groans were hidden in the sea breeze, so weak that they were almost inaudible.

Klein turned his head and looked at the pirate who was huddled beside the ship, half of his body bleeding, and clearly had the characteristics of the Southern Continent, and suddenly turned around and walked away.

That's a prisoner.

There was a crack in the palm of his left hand, and the hungry sealed object showed its human desire. As his arm was raised, he could no longer control his instinct, and the scarlet tongue licked the pirate's face, ignoring the cry of "food". Spread the saliva all over.

Klein deliberately placed his palm in front of the prisoner's face, keeping a safe distance. It seemed to be a provocation, but also seemed to be an implicit courtesy when a guest visits the host's house and wants to play with a certain collection. He coveted Brato, who was sitting cross-legged like a stone statue. The husband glanced at him and saw that he was still silent, so he suddenly pushed out his palm.

The monster hiding in the shadows tore the complete human body into pieces, blood burst from the arteries, bones were broken piece by piece, and they all fell into a bottomless pit only as big as a palm.

Even the pirates who were used to seeing life and death couldn't accept this cruel scene. Many of the more fragile ones even vomited out what they had in their stomachs on the spot.

Wearing a mirror mask, Klein quietly admired the eating process of "Creepy Hungry", as if he suddenly remembered something during an early morning walk. He said in a leisurely tone without raising his head.

"By the way, I'm going to Bayam. How about taking a ride on your boat?"

My coding career was in tatters. I never thought that one day I would lose my keyboard.

I haven't forgotten the remaining two thousand words, and I will definitely make them up (everyone in the group remembers them more clearly than me)

The book club is full, I will study how to expand the number of people.

Finally, I would like to ask for recommendations and monthly tickets, please.

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Chapter 32 Exaggeration

Chapter 223 Exaggeration

The Dusk Messenger was silent as never before.

In the captain's room, the blond Ivan Bulatov unwrapped a roll of bandages and wrapped them around his forearm. The gauze squeezed the broken muscles, and soon a large area of ​​bright red spread.

Smelling the bitter aroma of the medicinal wine in the air, Klein was silent for a long time, standing in front of the window with his back to the sunlight filtering through the grille, like a sculpture.

Two taciturn and thoughtful people were in the same room, both waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, after treating the wound, Bulatov moved his left arm and pulled out a bottle of highly concentrated liquor from under the desk, crushed the mouth of the bottle with his bare hands, and poured it into his mouth.

The transparent liquid flowed along the bumpy muscles of the "Guardian", and the smell of alcohol in the room suddenly became stronger.

"It's not easy to get to Bayam."

Bulatov took a sip and breathed out a sigh of relief. He threw it away and the bottle drew a perfect semicircle in the air. With quick eyesight and quick hands, Klein accurately grabbed the remaining mouth of the broken bottle. Under his mask, His eyebrows were raised slightly.

"This is good wine brought from St. Milon. It would be a pity not to taste it."

Tilting his head sideways and looking at the liquid in the bottle, Klein rubbed the mirror mask and thought about the answer.

"I like wormwood."

"Ha, the girly wine that Intis sluts like!" Bulatov sneered, lowered his head and glanced at the adventurer dressed in a trench coat, and the water droplets hanging from his short golden beard trembled. Tremble.

He waved, took the bottle that Klein threw back, looked at the person in front of him carefully, and said firmly.

"You are not from Intis."

Klein was indifferent.

"I've seen too many Intis sissies. They are covered in chicken feathers. They look like roosters in heat. They can't speak without holding their fingers in their hands or pinching their throats."

After pouring the wine into the barrel cup, Bulatov pointed at Klein with the empty wine bottle.

"Run people, right?"

There was still silence in the room, but the silence became Bulatov's confidence in trying to figure it out.

He smiled, stretched his body, pulled out the chair and sat down.

"It's really strange that a Loen man would actually join the Secret Order..."

The black gloves covering his palms could not hide the tight joints. With a low laugh, Klein actually took off the mask on his face, looked at Bulatov who was jumping in surprise under the casual appearance, and said leisurely .

"How did you find out?"

The man under the mask appears to be less than 30 years old. His face is thin and angular, with both a mature and gloomy temperament. At first glance, the deep and distinct facial features of the people from the northern continent are obvious, but there is a hidden appearance that is different from the southern continent. of softness.

Bulatov looked at the man's true appearance, slightly stunned, and couldn't help but murmured in a low voice.

"Elves..."

Is this man an elf hybrid?

But he soon suppressed his speculation, coughed slightly, loosened his stiff smile, and pointed at the silver brooch on the collar of Klein's coat.

"The aesthetics of the Intis people are as frivolous as their delicate and artificial gestures, and they cannot create such beautiful things."

This was obviously a joke. Klein didn't pay attention and just nodded.

When he first arrived at sea, he only had a one-sided impression of all the pirate generals, which was as thin as a piece of paper. It was not until he came into contact with, communicated with, and fought with them one by one that he slowly supplemented these impressions.

If Tracy gave him the impression of being completely different from the mainstream style of "Witch", Senior was a perfect fit for the stereotype of the "Rose School", and Bulatov Ivan was caught between the two. middle.

It has the common characteristics of Fusac people, but also has many different spontaneities, giving people a sense of liveliness.

It is very likely that he is in the same situation as Mr. "The Hanged Man" in the Church of God of War. He is a "former official" who was dragged down by his background and had to give up internal promotion channels and go to sea to make a living.

"Having trouble getting to Bayam?"

Although his thoughts were racing, Klein still kept the rules of acting in mind and spoke "Gehrman Sparrow style".

"Of course, something big has happened in the Rhoad Islands recently. Storm sailors are guarding the open sea around the clock. If you want to get in, you have to make a big circle or change ships in advance at a nearby small port."

Bulatov paused before responding, as if he didn't expect that the man in front of him was completely different from the members of the Secret Order he had met, and he was not talkative at all.

"If you want to go to Bayam, the best plan is to sneak in from Denos Island or Tiana Port under a different identity to avoid identity checks by the navy and storm."

"But I don't recommend choosing Tiana Island. Of course, even if you want to disembark in Tiana, I won't agree. At most, I will take you to Denos, which is too far."

Klein is not a "navigator", nor is he a sailor who goes to sea all year round. He has no idea of ​​the location and distribution of islands on the sea, and can only rely on hazy impressions of sea charts to recall.

Denos Island... From a straight-line distance, it is further away from the Rhoad Islands than Oravi, where we were before...

Thinking of this, he kept his eyes still, paying attention to Bulatov's expression with his peripheral vision, thoughtfully.

The battle between "Sea King" Coatman and the "Storm" who was suspected of being separated from "Mysterious" happened two days ago. According to the common sense of maritime message transmission, "Vice Admiral Dusk" was operating far away in the Zhongsonia Sea. Bulatov didn't have time to receive the news, and even I heard it from one of the parties involved, Tracy Pellet...

The Fusac people's news station in the Rhoside Islands intentionally conveys the unusual movements in the Rhoside sea?

With speculation in mind, Klein kept his character and did not wonder about the "big things happening in the Rhoad Islands" that Bulatov deliberately threw up. He only focused on the issue at hand.

"You can land from Simim Island."

It is the easternmost island of the Rhoside Islands. It is not too far from Olavi, only a three- or four-day voyage. It is also the closest island near the "Sea King" battlefield described by Tracy.

"I told you, something big happened there."

Bulatov still shook his head, firmly rejecting Klein's proposal and unwilling to take the risk.

"Members of the 'Spiritual Religion' often appear on Simim Island." Klein said coldly.

Mr. Fool above the gray fog seemed to frighten Tracy, or maybe it gave the Lieutenant General Disease some hope. In short, after that day, she often asked "The Fool" Praying, she reported every detail she could about the activities of the Witch Sect.

"It's not surprising that the 'Spiritual Order' has a stronghold in the Rhoside Islands."

Bulatov suddenly grabbed the wooden bucket cup on the table and covered it below the bridge of his nose.

"Indeed."

Instead of continuing to bait, Klein changed the topic and suddenly stopped talking about the current topic. He snapped his fingers, and the closed door of the captain's cabin opened immediately.

Giorgia, still dressed in a Balam robe, walked into the room with a glass of water brought from the kitchen on the second floor of the deck and handed it to Klein.

The adventurer, wearing a half-high silk top hat, sat on another chair, raised his glass and moistened his lips with small sips.

"I'm going to Denos Island in five days..."

"No, I won't go. I usually don't go there." Bulatov waved his hand to reject, "Go to Simim Island. I happen to be going to the other side of the Raging Sea. I can drop you at the Black Port over there."

Yo, changed your mind? Klein's lips, which were also covered by the water glass, curved upward.

But he still didn't respond to Bulatov, just looked at him.

Bastard... Bulatov finally couldn't bear it anymore. He stood up and walked to the door. He opened the door and shouted outside. Within half a minute, the first mate on the "Twilight Messenger" trotted over and nodded repeatedly. Running back again, the entire fleet then began to turn.

boom.

"Lieutenant General Dusk" closed the door tightly, breathed out through his nose angrily, and his steps were heavy.

"Do you know?"

"You don't feel like a secret order to me now, you feel like 'War Red', like the elm head in the Aurora Order!"

The attitude of the Fusac Empire and the Church of the God of War towards the belief in the True Creator has always been ambiguous. Compared with other pirates who have backers, Bulatov often cooperates with the believers of the True Creator to a limited extent and is relatively familiar with each other.

"Tell me, Mr. Trunsoest Empire dressed up as Roen, what is going on on Simim Island?"

Klein looked into Lieutenant General Dusk's eyes, holding the water glass in both hands and placing it in front of his belly.

He glanced at Georgia, who was standing aside, and the graceful lady spoke immediately.

"It was the slave trade and collecting documents."

After speaking, Georgia lowered her head, her beautiful face hidden in the shadows.

"Then what, it's gone?"

After waiting for a long time, Bulatov patted his thigh and said.

"That's an additional price." Klein's tone was calm, his mood becoming more and more cheerful.

He saved Bulatov's life. Although he guessed that even without his help, Bulatov would be able to escape from the possession of the "Wraith Spirit" at some cost and would not be killed by the "Blood Admiral", but This was a deal they had already negotiated, so they would no longer owe each other anything.

"okay, I get it."

Being beaten by the sea breeze all year round, his somewhat rough face slowly changed from white to red and then back to its original color. Bulatov tried to take a deep breath and answered softly.

He slowly turned his head and glanced at the scenery outside the window, judging that the fleet had completed the change of direction and was heading to another channel.

"I need a separate room." Klein said.

Tomorrow was the Tarot meeting, and he needed a closed space to host the gathering.

"Your room will be on the bottom floor." Bulatov didn't deliberately make things difficult, but his attitude was definitely not good.

Having said this, Bulatov also lost the desire to continue talking. He held the wooden bucket cup in his hand and pointed to the door with his chin.

"I'm going to rest."

…

"have a good rest."

Leonard patted Cornley on the shoulder and whispered with concern.

"Don't worry, this little drink is nothing."

The short and lean "Nighthawk" couldn't hold back the smile on his face and glanced behind him from time to time.

Tonight's plan was quite successful. As expected, after Leonard's surprise appearance, Ms. Daly and captain Dunn did not argue again all night. Coupled with the deliberate inducement of the female players led by Roshan, the men led by Leonard After risking his life and drinking, he finally captured Dunn before the end of the party, which moved this normally mature and steady gentleman to tears. He no longer felt timid and expressed his true thoughts.

"Your past is your own business, and it is my honor to work with you in the future."

"The Holy Spirit teaches us to abandon selfishness. I will not allow you to ruin your future because of me, but I should respect your choice as a man and as a husband..."

"Tsk tsk tsk, goddess, what the captain said is so good."

"Miss Writer" in the Tingen Nighthawks team said goodbye to Mrs. Orianna and Roxanne at some point, and stood side by side with Leonard who watched Cornley board the carriage.

She took out a leather band and tied her white hair into a ponytail, and glanced at Leonard with a slightly teasing look.

"Captain has proven his literary talent, great poet, when will you prove yourself?"

"I don't have a fiancée." Leonard avoided Sika's gaze and stared at the bushes on the roadside.

"Backlund is such a good girl. With your appearance and current level, is it difficult to find a suitable girl?"

"I..." Leonard opened his mouth, his cheeks were stained crimson by the moonlight, and he couldn't see clearly.

He sighed.

"I don't want to delay others."

Delay... Xijia looked up at Leonard and couldn't help but fell silent.

After a while, when Xiaoyu was about to end, Xijia spoke again and patted Leonard on the shoulder.

"Good job today."

"Luo Yao, myself, Frye, and Cornley were still making a bet on whether you would bring out the red gloves and make Roxanne unhappy, which would cause serious trouble."

Leonard smiled.

"In your eyes, am I as showy as the Intis people?"

He put his hands into his coat pockets, and when he took them out, they were already covered in blood.

Stretching his fingers and showing the symbol of the "Red Gloves" team to his former teammates, Leonard whispered.

"It's not something to show off."

As he spoke, he clenched his hands and changed the topic slightly abruptly.

"How do you go back?"

He remembered that Sika's house was nearby.

"Go back?" Sika glanced at him strangely, "Chanis Gate still needs someone to guard it. Didn't you see that I didn't drink much wine today?"

"It's you, didn't you buy the car for tonight?"

"no."

Reaching out to flag down a taxi, Leonard took off his gloves and answered while stuffing them into his pocket.

"Tomorrow at eleven o'clock in the morning, I will go to the company to tell you before I leave."

"OK."

Xijia nodded slightly, Leonard hesitated for a moment, but in the end he didn't say anything. He just waved his hand, ran two steps quickly, and got into the suddenly rainy night. He didn't look back, his messy half-long hair was scattered, and UU read a book. www.uukanshu.net flashed and merged into the night, and the figure became increasingly blurred in the rain, as if it had fallen into a distant falsehood outside the real world with warmth.

"gone."

…

Boom!

Lightning tore through the dark clouds, and the rain in Tingen had a faint tendency to develop into a heavy rain. The silvery white on the horizon illuminated the cold corner of the cemetery.

Leonard Mitchell stood in front of a tombstone, looking at the white and white photo illuminated by electricity, and suddenly picked up the shovel inserted next to it.

The best brother;

the best brother;

Best colleagues ever.

The two piles of soil gradually piled up, and the tomb was exposed little by little. It was like going back in time, carrying all the misfortunes and rushing towards the happiness before the tragedy happened, returning to that nostalgic dream.

Boom!

The thunder exploded, drowning out the sound of the shovel falling to the ground.

Leonard looked down at the completely exposed coffin, gave up his tools, leaned down, and reached out to hold the edge of the coffin lid.

He opened the heavy wooden cover with force, but did not hear the expected sound of nails breaking.

Bucha.

There was a crack in Leonard's heart.

His movements suddenly became slow, and his rain-wet hair stuck to his forehead, completely covering his eyes.

As he stood up little by little, the coffin lid also slipped into the soil, and the square wooden board was dark and empty.

well...

Leonard maintained his half-bowed body and watched this scene quietly, watching quietly.

I've been updating late these past two days, and my body is falling apart after I finish writing...

Finally, I would like to ask for recommendations and monthly tickets, please.

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Chapter 33 The protagonist does not appear

Chapter 224 The protagonist does not appear

Unlike Bayam, which has been cultivated by the Loen people for many years, Lanshan Island still retains the most primitive customs of the island civilization.

Alger shuttled among the wood and stone buildings with completely different architectural styles and current trends. Sometimes he passed under the wooden piles supporting the bottom floor of the house, and sometimes he stayed close to the three- and four-story side-by-side buildings that evolved from the Rune-style small building.

There was little investment by colonists here. It was planned by the colonial government and the church for the indigenous people. It is a reserve in a sense. The roads are narrow and dirty, and there are many street stalls. It has become a special charm under the Blue Mountains.

After passing through the dark-skinned, skinny and shriveled indigenous people, Alger finally came to a square full of people kneeling.

He did not choose to disturb the believers who were muttering or singing in a low voice with pious but numb expressions. Instead, he turned to a small building on the left.

Is this the rebels' hideout?

Alger stroked the sea serpent pattern carved on the door frame, slid his fingers in the recesses of the wood, and murmured in a low voice. He discovered that the pattern that the natives regarded as a so-called totem was actually a variant of elven writing.

Just as Count Tristan said, "Poseidon" Kavituwa was indeed a high-ranking elf pretending to be... Alger thoughtfully opened the ajar door, followed the stairs and entered the corner on the right front , all the way to the top.

Dong Dong Dong... He knocked on the door on the left.

"Who?" someone inside asked in a low voice.

Alger responded calmly.

"Friends who bring wine and barbecue."

"Where?" The person inside asked a strange question.

"maritime."

The breeze blew, and before there was any movement in the house, Alger moved his fingers slightly, and the door opened automatically.

There were five or six muzzles in the black hole. Alger seemed not to see the threat that was so close. He looked around calmly, and finally his eyes fell on a man in an iron wheelchair, about forty years old, covered with a blanket. He covered his knees and wore a jacket popular among the natives.

There were more than a dozen island natives standing or sitting in this room. The men surrounding the door were bare-chested, with ferocious blue sea snakes tattooed on their arms, and short stripes painted with red paint on the sides of their cheeks and chest and abdomen. , quite original and exotic.

Far away from the entrance, the natives in the living room are dressed in a more "civilized" manner, but they are also tall and strong, have sea snake tattoos, and carry guns with them.

The reason why Alger could tell the dominant person in the room at a glance was because the man in the wheelchair was not wearing a weapon and was the only "weak" person with limited mobility in the room.

This would hardly appear in the culture of the archipelago's natives who admired physically strong people. The only possible explanation was that the disabled man was a priest, a priest who served the "Poseidon".

However, the real "Poseidon" priests cannot openly live on the territory of the colonial government. They prefer to hide in the rainforest... Looking up from the wheelchair, he glanced at the man's reserved dark brown eyes. Alger crossed his arms on his chest. He bowed slightly to everyone in the room.

This is the etiquette of elves, which his mother taught him when he was very young.

"My name is Alger Wilson, and I come to see you in friendship."

"I have heard of you, Mr. Captain." The bald man looked at each other and winked at his companion, "You have considerable strength and have supported our activities, but I remember that your belief should be The god of the Loen people is the 'Lord of Storms'."

"You sacrificed your life for the people of Loen!" the strong man next to the man in the wheelchair suddenly roared.

No matter what level of civilization, when religion is involved, the problem becomes extremely troublesome. Not to mention racial conflicts.

Although Alger always keeps a low profile in his work, as a pirate captain who has mastered a ghost ship, it is difficult for him to avoid being studied under the magnifying glass of covetousness and curiosity by other pirates. Over time, many secrets will no longer be secrets.

Seeing the scattered natives in the house slowly moving and surrounding the few exits of the narrow room, Alger slowly smiled.

"At sea, everyone believes in the 'Storm Lord' to some extent."

As if he didn't understand the atmosphere, he grabbed a chair from a native who was as tall as a Fusac man. He ignored the surprised and angry look of the tall native and sat down on his own.

"We never believe in the gods of the Loen people." The man stared at Alger and narrowed his eyes.

"Piety and rigidity are two different concepts." Alger shook his head indifferently, "You should be able to tell that I am a mixed race. I inherited my mother's maritime bloodline. People like me will not be harmed no matter where they are. Welcome, if you want to live, you have to make some compromises."

The strong man who just roared was dismissive.

"coward!"

"So do you think mixed-race people should endure injustice and be ostracized by you and them?" Alger's attitude was firm and unyielding.

"you!"

"Edmonton."

The man in the wheelchair, who looked like a priest, was silent for a moment, hesitated, and took action to calm the growing hostility of his companions.

"Who asked you to find me?"

"We have never been in contact before, and I don't remember any of our compatriots telling outsiders about this place." He did not dwell on the topic just now.

Phew... Alger quietly breathed a sigh of relief, his expression suddenly serious, and in front of many natives, he took out a palm-sized package from his jacket and opened it in front of them.

Inside the oil paper cloth, a brightly colored conch with cyan stripes entangled on a scarlet base was exposed to everyone's sight.

Wow.

For a moment, everyone heard the faint sound of the rushing tide, and saw layers of illusory waves rising around Alger Wilson, as if a boundless and bottomless blue ocean was formed.

The sound of the ocean tide is like a lost chant, which makes people want to get closer and hallucinations arise in their minds.

They saw a huge, blue figure running through the illusory ocean, supporting everything like a tower.

As Alger closed his palms, the oil paper covered the cyan pattern on the surface of the conch again, and the stagnant breathing of everyone in the room became smooth again.

Bang!

The sound of tables and chairs colliding with each other was heard one after another. The natives led by Edmonton stared at the conch in Alger's hand in disbelief. Their Adam's apple kept swallowing and their lips pursed. Only the man in the wheelchair still maintained the most basic expression. He was calm, but his hands with bulging veins as they pressed against the armrests of the iron wheelchair also revealed his inner unnaturalness.

"This is..."

Edmonton's voice was hoarse, and he mechanically turned his neck and asked the man.

He now urgently needs his companion in the wheelchair to help him solve his doubts and expose the tricks of the unknown "captain" in front of him.

"...It's from God..." The man's answer disappointed Edmonton.

But the man did not care about comforting his companion at this time. Even if he deliberately restrained his volume, the excitement and panic could still be heard.

"Where did you get this?"

Where did you get it?

The corners of Alger's mouth raised slightly and he relaxed completely.

Maybe you got it from the "Poseidon" you believe in... Recalling the scenes this morning, Alger had some guesses about the origin of the conch.

He put away the package and said vaguely.

"I'm a mixed race."

Mixed race... The man in the wheelchair's eyes trembled slightly, his pupils shrank, and the focus fell on Alger's dark blue hair, which was as messy as seaweed.

According to legend, elves are a race with dark blue hair, and this feature is also reflected in their descendants.

Unlike the uneducated compatriots around him, he received free education sponsored by the Lord of Storms Church. It was a painful and humiliating time, but it also allowed him to truly come into contact with civilization and think about many questions that he had previously doubted. , no longer just complaining about injustice, but also seeing the direction of overturning injustice.

During the years when he was helplessly crying under the beatings and scoldings of Storm Priests and Sisters, he learned the most basic Loen language, and also mastered part of Hermes.

With this knowledge, after leaving the church school, he was qualified to be favored by the Fusac people. He went to Fusac's own country to receive further education. After returning, he obtained the status of a low-level priest and became a core member of the resistance army.

With the convenience of his identity, he was able to access more channels to obtain information. He read the research documents collected by the Loen people in the Bayam Library, and browsed the tribal records kept by the real priests in the rainforest. Over time, he discovered some things that were not known to everyone. A secret known to some of our compatriots, or perhaps long forgotten.

In fact, in the beginning a long time ago, they were the descendants of elves.

"Mr. Wilson."

The man inhaled suddenly, suppressed his emotions, and suppressed his excitement with hopes for the future.

"I think we've felt your friendship."

Lifting up the blanket that had slipped from his knees, he continued.

"But you know, there are some things I still need to discuss with the high priest and God's servants. It may take some time before you can see our return to your friendship."

"No problem." Alger said calmly.

He will also stay in Bayam for a period of time. The gap in the middle is enough for the priests of the "Poseidon" to hold a ceremony and pray for the "Poseidon" to respond and verify his identity.

Thinking of this, Alger stood up from his chair, not intending to continue wasting time on Blue Mountain Island.

Although the former members of the "Blue Avenger" controlled by Count Tristan seem to be as alive as they were in life, and the diocesan bishop of the Church of the Waves has examined them individually without revealing their faults, Alger himself will still be subject to removal from the crew. External surveillance cannot leave the church's sight for too long.

It didn't matter that he betrayed Storm's faith in private, but he had to be loyal publicly.

"I'm waiting for news from you."

…

There were many figures with different appearances and clothes hanging in the low, humid room. Tristan sat among them, with his legs crossed, and he scanned Alger up and down as he returned from the door.

"It went well?"

Alger bowed after hearing the news and responded to the demigod's question.

"The rebels did not question my identity. They just said that they needed to report it to their high priest for further confirmation."

Hearing this, Tristan nodded slightly, without making any comments, and moved his five fingers, and the figure hanging on the beam immediately turned.

Alger didn't dare to look at this scene. He buried his head lower and stared at the pair of brand new shiny leather shoes in front of him, motionless.

"Any more questions?"

About two minutes later, Tristan, who had adapted to playing the role of digesting potions and taught himself how to become a qualified "Puppet Master", raised his head and stretched his fingers.

"Yes." Alger said smoothly, deliberately showing a trace of hesitation, "Sir, are the indigenous people of the Rhoside Islands really the descendants of elves?"

His lineage was confirmed by Tristan, and even though it was thin, there was no denying the elven blood in it.

As a mixed-race native born in Bayam, Alger speculated that this place might have had a deep connection with the elves before the Loen people discovered it.

"them?"

What Alger was expecting was a sneer.

Similar questions were asked by Tristan this morning when he sent his historical projection to visit the elven land near Rosid. He also asked the "disaster priest" who met him, and received a response from the tall lady who looked like she had eaten bird poop.

Tristan shook his head slightly.

"In the Fourth Age, this island was relatively deserted. The storms at that time had not stabilized the situation in Loen, and the control of the ocean was far less extensive than it is now. Therefore, the real rulers here are the elves, and the indigenous people you see now , but they were just vassals who lived in the same land as the elves."

"The culture of elves is different from any cultural form popular in the northern and southern continents. They are not exclusive, but there are many differences in habits. Even though the natives of the Rhoside Islands have lived with them for hundreds of years, they have not been able to integrate. What's more, Don't talk about intermarriage."

Therefore, the belief in "Poseidon" was actually created by the elves after they were driven out of the center of the sea stage by the Church of Storms. They used their past influence among the indigenous people to fabricate and support them to compete with the Church of Storms and prevent Roen from completely controlling the maritime colonies. one?

The word "one" is used because Alger has heard rumors of elves in more than one place. UU Reading www. uukanshu.net The more frequent rumors are on an island, the more underground beliefs that are hostile to storms will appear, but the "Poseidon" on the Rhoside Islands is the largest one.

"Sorry to bother you."

After saying goodbye humbly, Alger walked out of the room filled with hanging corpses. The sunlight came to his face and he subconsciously blocked it with his hands.

The sun began to set in the west... He took out the pocket watch he carried with him, and after confirming the time, Alger quickened his pace, ran along the sea wall, and ran back to the "Blue Avenger" docked at the private port.

He walked across the deck and subconsciously looked at the crew, who were no different from usual.

"Captain."

The brown-skinned sailor said hello with a smile, showing his white teeth, and then the other sailors put down what they were doing and raised their smiles one after another.

Seeing this scene, Alger's eyelids twitched, and he decisively turned around and got out of the cabin, walked back to the captain's cabin, closed the door and locked it in one breath.

Ha... After completing this useless move, Alger was immediately deflated and his chest heaved.

In the past, you locked the door because you were afraid that the crew would reveal your secret. Why now?

Sitting on the captain's chair, he turned his gaze blankly and met the second hand that was slowly turning clockwise.

The black filament crossed twelve, and a deep red burst out silently, covering his thoughts. When his consciousness became clear again, Alger sighed slightly, and stood up with his companions at the girl's sweet and enthusiastic greetings. .

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool."

I have a cold again...

Damn it, can my body give me some strength?

Yesterday, when I was helping to prepare tender documents, I didn't turn on the air conditioner, so I opened a window...

Finally, I would like to ask for recommendations and monthly tickets, please.

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