dark wizard

() The death row camp was very lively in the early morning. People with nothing to do were hanging out in the open space of the camp. At this time, the camp was already full of people. After the fight between Amy and her men and Cormier’s men just ended, everyone thought

Everything was fine, and many people left. Seeing the excitement again, these desperadoes gathered around with great interest.

More and more people gathered, and even two spiritual masters guarding the death row camp came over to take a look at the situation. Their expressions were very relaxed, and they were not afraid of the people in the death row camp making trouble at all.

In the eyes of real spiritual masters, the people in the death row camps are no different from ants. These people who can survive by doing some small magic are just lingering and will die sooner or later. If these people are not of some use to the empire, they only need to

A more powerful spiritual master can easily turn most of the people here into ashes by releasing an advanced spell.

The person responsible for guarding the death row camp is a squadron of the Alpha Empire's southern spiritual division.

Since the imperial spiritual master examination is extremely strict and cruel, and the elimination rate is very high, only a very small number of people can become spiritual masters of the empire, and the number of spiritual master troops is naturally not large. Throughout the entire continent, spiritual masters are organized into small teams.

Unit, a team is composed of six spiritual masters, and the team leader is usually an earth spiritual master. A squadron is composed of six teams. The squadron leader can be an earth spiritual master or a spiritual master.

Smicer was promoted to become a spiritual master a few years ago. Being able to become a spiritual master of the empire in his thirties would have an unlimited future. Unfortunately, for some reason, he was assigned to take care of the death row camp in the south.

.

Only those on the fringes of power or marginalized will take over this kind of border mission.

Perhaps because of this, Smicer has a very bad temper. He often kills unlucky people he dislikes for no reason. Therefore, the desperadoes in the death row camp have always been very low-key in front of real spiritual masters.

Fortunately, Smicer did not come to the death row camp often. He only asked his men to patrol every day. As long as there were no escapees, other things had nothing to do with him.

Bol and Carrick belong directly to the third team, and today they are on duty as a team during the day.

After staying here for a long time, they have become accustomed to the brutal gladiatorial battles in death row camps.

Bol is a spiritual master who is good at physical skills. He has always believed that physical skills are the strongest of all skills. Therefore, just now he firmly believed that Cormier's subordinate who knew physical skills would win, and then he lost to Ka

Rick two gold coins.

"I'm giving you an advantage, that guy is really useless!" Bol looked unconvinced.

Carrick smiled and said: "These unlucky guys among the nobles can only cast some small spells. The speed of that small fireball spell is too slow. I really don't know why the unlucky guy didn't escape. He is too weak."

Bol glanced at him. He was still distressed for the two gold coins. During non-war times, the task of guarding the border did not pay much.

At this time, Carrick suddenly raised his voice to remind Boer, "Look, there's something exciting again!"

"Another unlucky noble young master..."

Carrick jumped up to the top of a tent, and Bol jumped up soon after. The two of them stood quietly on the tent, but the dilapidated tent that collapsed under the pressure was still intact, as if nothing had happened.

Feel like.

"I bet that guy with the big beard is in trouble."

Carrick closed his eyes and clicked twice in front of him with one hand, blocking a burst of spiritual power ripples in the air, "That noble boy is condensing spiritual power. The spiritual power fluctuations are too weak, but his control is really strong.

.”

Boer wondered: "What did you find?"

Carrick suddenly frowned and pointed at the field in confusion: "What I saw is the same as what you saw. What is that?"

Bol looked up and saw that the aristocratic boy in the field was standing still. He only stretched out his right index finger, and a dark substance on the fingertip was constantly rotating. The darkness exuding from it seemed to make people get lost in it.

Bol had some knowledge of magic and witchcraft, but he didn't like these things and couldn't understand them at all.

"No matter what it is, his spiritual power fluctuations are so weak, and the power of the spell won't be too strong! I think the bearded guy will win this time!"

Carrick smiled and said, "A gamble?"

Bol gritted his teeth and made up his mind, "Just bet! As usual, I will definitely win back two gold coins!"

.........

Carrick was unable to detect the spiritual energy fluctuations of the noble boy on the scene at all. In his detection spell perception, only a trace of condensed spiritual energy fluctuations were radiated into nature.

He was confused.

Under normal circumstances, when any spell is released, there will inevitably be fluctuations in spiritual power, especially for large-scale spells. The fluctuations in spiritual power are extremely strong. Even ordinary people can feel the changes in the natural aura of the heaven and earth caused by some spells.

The weak fluctuations in spiritual power naturally indicate that the power of the spell is not strong.

However, seeing the black substance between the fingers of the kid on the field, Carrick still felt that this somewhat mysterious guy would win.

The probing spell had no effect, so Carrick could only use his eyes to see. However, the distance between him and Bol was too far, so he couldn't see clearly at all.

If they were any closer, this bet wouldn't be true at all.

People who watch at close range have a better understanding of the situation, especially those with some spiritual power.

For example, the two leaders of the camp, Cormier, Amy, and Leo, etc., as soon as they saw the green light on Lynch's fingertips, they knew that the outcome of this competition was decided.

As for the strange substance wrapped in black threads, one can tell from a close look that it is definitely not the result of condensed spiritual power.

The fingertips emit spiritual power and condense a fireball. This is nothing at all. It is just a simple control of fire spells. There is not much difference in other elements. It can control an unnatural substance accurately and make it stay at the fingertips.

Well, being able to do this requires considerable spiritual power control.

Even among the spiritual masters of the empire, there are only a handful of them who can do this.

This shows the spiritual control ability of the noble boy on the field.

If you can do this, no matter how little spiritual power you have, you can still condense a powerful spell. Defeating Hobbes will naturally be no problem, but the material wrapped with black threads is even weirder and doesn't look good on the surface.

Reciprocal.

There is no suspense about victory or defeat at all.

All they care about is the power of this spell.

However, the cheers and cheers for Hobbes in the crowd did not decrease at all. Most people were not as discerning as them. After all, there were not many highly skilled people in the death row camp, and most of them were just ordinary, stronger people.

The same was true for Hobbes. Although he felt something was wrong, he regained his confidence amidst the cries of the crowd and leaned towards Lynch.

His speed is not fast, but his steps are very steady. He obviously had basic training in physical arts in his early years.

While running, bursts of dust were kicked up under my feet.

Lynch still stood there without moving. He was a little surprised. He didn't expect that Hobbs's physical skills were basically so solid. He must have a certain foundation.

But that's all.

His thoughts flashed through his mind, and a sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Just when Hobbes was about to rush to his eyes, Lin Qi waved his fingers gently, and saw the substance wrapped in black threads burrowing into Hobbes' chest almost in the blink of an eye.

Hobbes was obviously startled. He suddenly stopped in place, slapped his chest, and then laughed with confusion and joy: "Haha, kid, stop scaring people, I'm fine with nothing."

Looking at his look, the other people who were stunned came to their senses.

"It turns out it was just to scare people. I thought Hobbes was going to lose."

"How is that possible? I knew it was a bluff from the beginning."

"Hobbes, hurry up and kill that guy. I hate this guy. He looks like he deserves a beating."

Hobbs was worried just now, but he felt his body carefully again and was sure that nothing really happened. He excitedly gestured with his fist at Lynch, "Boy, you succeeded in irritating me. Now you are ready to bear my pain."

anger!"

Lin Qi stood there with a peaceful smile on his face.

He clasped his hands on his chest and his eyes suddenly turned cold: "So, how do you feel now..."

As soon as he finished speaking, the smile on Hobbs' face suddenly froze. He suddenly squatted on the ground and scratched his chest with both arms, "Itchy...itchy...my blood...ah..."

He said it was itchy, but Hobbes' face was full of pain.

Not long after, he couldn't bear it any longer and began to use his fingertips to repeatedly press the skin on his chest. He almost exhausted all his strength.

One piece, two pieces...

Every time his nails scratched, there would be a little less flesh on the chest.

Slowly, just a little bit of the flesh on Hobbs' chest was peeled off with his nails. His legs that were raised together were covered with pieces of minced meat.

In the entire open space, no one made a sound, and everyone stared at Hobbes carefully.

"It's itchy...it's so itchy...it's tickling me to death!"

"Please, spare me..."

"Please...who...someone please kill me, please...please..."

Not long after, Hobbes' chest had been scratched until the bones were visible, but no blood could flow out, and all that was left were shriveled pieces of flesh.

He kept wailing and telling his pain.

Some people could no longer see it and turned their heads behind them, while others turned their eyes to the noble boy on the other side. At this time, there was only fear in their eyes.

Hobbes is really unlucky to have offended such a guy...

Many people were secretly glad that they didn't say anything just now, otherwise, maybe they would have suffered the same consequences. It would be so miserable. Thinking about it, they felt that it would be easier to die now. And some people secretly said to them

Walking outside, they secretly prayed in their hearts that the noble boy would not hold a grudge.

They don't want to become like that because of a few words.

For nearly ten minutes, the only sound in the entire camp was Hobbes's wailing.

Not many people could insist on watching, but more people still couldn't help but take a look. At this time, Hobbes only had extreme fear on his face, and he broke the two strings on his chest with his hands.

He could clearly see the ribs, the internal organs inside, and the beating of the organs.

He felt like he was dead, but he felt full of energy. This spirit only brought more fear.

Almost everyone couldn't bear to watch it anymore.

They only saw the aristocratic boy in the field, still with his trademark smile on his face, and his expression was indifferent, as if this kind of thing was commonplace.

However, no one thinks that this look is synonymous with "easy to bully" anymore.

"Hell, that guy is still not a human..."

Many people thought so, but few dared to speak out. Even the two imperial spiritualists on duty in the camp, Carrick and Peter, were frightened.

"Okay, Lynch, let me give him a good time!" Leo couldn't help it anymore and said with a frown.

He walked to the field, pulled out a long knife from behind, and swung the knife cleanly to chop off Hobbes' head, giving this guy a happy death.

The head rolled to Lynch's feet, his eyes still widened.

Lin Qi's face suddenly turned cold. Xu squinted and scanned the crowd around him, then thanked Leo and walked slowly towards his tent.

Wherever he went, the crowd automatically opened a wide path to let him pass.

They watched him disappear into the entrance of a tent in the corner of the camp. Only then did they realize that their hearts could beat normally again.

The dead bodies in the field seemed to still be recounting the cruel scene just now, and they felt that it was a lingering nightmare.

Even though I'm just a bystander, it feels like I'm actually there.

"Don't mess with that guy, he's really scary..."