Dominate the Treacherous Realm

　　 "Sir, how can I use my abilities, the green one, maybe it can help a little?"

　　 Jenkins then remembered what he had just gained. Only magic can fight magic. This rule is also useful in this world, right?

Section 4 Chapter 3 Curse and Shimizu

"In the outside world, our ability depends on our own [spirit] to release, but in the slyland, it is different. We only need to activate it with our spirit, but correspondingly, an ability can only be used in an [strayland] expedition. once."

　　 After finishing speaking, Barnard stretched out his rough hands and tremblingly held the golden bowl closest to him.

　　 "Did I drink?"

　　 I don't know if it was said to Jenkins or to the black-robed man.

　　 A bead of sweat slid down from the position of the middle-aged man's temple and dripped clearly in front of Jenkins' eyes onto the front of his black coat.

"Boy, if I take a sip this time I will die, and you are lucky enough to go out and go directly to the church in [No Light Moon] to inform me of my death. By the way, my full name is Wayne Sreibin Bar Nader."

　　 "Sir, we will all live."

　　 Jenkins swallowed. Although it is not his choice to face his fate now, what he has to say in this situation:

　　 "Otherwise, let me drink it first. You have more experience than me and can get more information from my results." He carefully proposed that the probability of choosing one from ten and one from nine is not much different.

　　 "Hehe, kid, thanks a lot. But I haven't written enough to let the rookie find the way for me."

The two of them never mentioned the idea of ​​killing the black-robed people, because the other party just sat in front of them, and their aura had already made their hands and feet paralyzed, and the black-robed people did not even need to stretch out to kill them. Finger out.

　　 Without saying anything, Barnard wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with his left hand, and drank the bowl with his right hand.

　　 Jenkins gasped loudly. He didn't know if it was because of the thin air in the room without ventilation, or because his heartbeat was too fast, and he had the same mood when the card was drawn with a golden back.

　　 After a second when time seemed to stand still, Barnard breathed a sigh of relief and put down the golden bowl in his hand.

　　 "Sir, are you okay?"

　　 Even knowing that it was his next turn, Jenkins breathed a sigh of relief for him.

　　Barnard turned his head stiffly, with a dry smile on his scumbag face, then pointed to his throat and waved his hand-he was dumb.

　　 There is no mirror now, so Jenkins cannot see the expression on his face at the moment. But he finally knew that his face should be very pale with his mouth open now.

　　 licked his chapped lips and stretched his hand into his arms. After a while, he took out several stacked newspapers, and then took out a very worn pen from the right pocket.

　　 The former was brought out of the house and was originally to be shredded and thrown into someone else’s yard. The latter was a gift given to him by the old William when he thought Jenkins was still rescued. Although the original owner of Jenkins's body hates studying extremely, he still values ​​his family, so he cherishes this pen very much.

　　Barnard immediately understood what Jenkins meant. He took the pen and paper, did not dare to use the table, and just wrote on the palm of his hand:

　　 "It's okay, this is just an ordinary curse. After we go out, there will be dedicated staff in the church who can help me."

　　 This may be the only good news that Jenkins has learned so far. But because this is a curse and not an injury, his healing power may not come in handy anymore.

　　 It should be his turn next, Barnard sat aside without urging.

　　 The black-robed man on the opposite side meant that there was a high probability that both of them would drink, so even if Barnard drinks a bowl again, I am afraid it will be useless.

　　 Jenkins's chest was violently ups and downs, and various pictures in less than an hour after the crossing came to his heart. It is a blessing? Is it a curse? No one knows.

　　 He raised his head, trying hard to see the figure under the black hood opposite, but the hood seemed to absorb all the light from the candle like a black hole.

　　 After a long time, Jenkins seems to have slight tinnitus.

He looked at the remaining nine gold bowls on the dirty round dining table. "Mr. Barnard, my full name is Jenkins Redampout Williams and I live at No. 7 Privet Drive in Binsai District. "

　　 After finishing speaking, regardless of the middle-aged man's reaction, he stood up and picked up the golden bowl closest to the black-robed man, and drank it directly.

　　 The heart is pumping plasma with the highest power, and the fast-flowing blood makes Jenkins's head flush, and his cold limbs make him not even feel the weird touch in his hands.

　　 The liquid first touched the lips, and there was no smell. Then Jenkins felt his hand uncontrollably send all the liquid into his mouth. Now he knew how Barnard's heroic action just came from.

　　 When all the liquid disappeared in his mouth, he put the bowl back on the table with blank eyes, and sat down again.

　　 "What should I do now?"

　　 He asked himself in his heart, and then he suddenly realized that he survived.

　　 The man on the side immediately pushed past the newspaper with the words on it: "How do you feel?"

　　 "Not bad, it's like, no, I really just drank half a bowl of water."

　　 I didn't expect the revolving lanterns to appear, and it would end up like this. Although it was a bit anticlimactic, Jenkins still thanked the gods and Buddhas in his heart that he could think of.

　　 It was at this time that he remembered that his body now believes in [Inheritance of the Sage], which symbolizes the tenth month of each year. The priesthood of this righteous **** includes knowledge, books, secrets, exploration, inheritance, and so on.

　　Although the old William was only a small businessman before, he firmly believed that knowledge changes fate. Therefore, the whole family of William Williams are believers in this god.

　　 "May [Inheritance of the sages] bless you, and your brilliance will illuminate the path of mankind."

　　 He read silently in his heart.

　　 The normal prayer process should also include a set of corresponding gestures, but Jenkins, who is not very firm, has a very vague impression of this.

　　 The two drank a bowl each, but nothing changed. The black-robed man still sat there, making it impossible to see through.

　　 "Can we go?" Jenkins did not act in vain, but asked the experienced Mr. Barnard again.

　　 The man also looked a little dazed. He could not speak, so he could only use gestures to signal Jenkins not to move, and then tried to stand up by himself.

　　Mingming Jenkins stood up to take the golden bowl when nothing happened, but at this moment Barnard seemed to be weighed down by the weight of a hundred catties, and fell heavily back onto the wooden stake.

　　 A slight crackle~ A crack immediately appeared on the side of the stake. Jenkins was worried about Mr. Barnard's **** now.

　　 "Are you okay?"

　　 He asked, only to realize that this is a silly question.

　　 Barnard blushed with pain and gritted his teeth and shook his head. Fortunately, he can't speak now, otherwise Jenkins was worried that he would roar.

　　PS: New book asks for support, asks for collection, asks for recommendation!

Section 5 Chapter 4 Wooden Bowl

　　 "Do we need to drink it all?"

　　 He tentatively asked the black-robed man, of course he didn't get an answer, and Barnard wrote a paragraph.

　　 Compared with the previous words, the text written in the blank space between the recruiting maid and the detective advertisement is obviously a lot scribbled.

"No, some of the liquid in these bowls obviously has a big problem. If we drink all of it, it will make us die. Past experience tells us that although the [Scary Land] is weird and dangerous, it rarely happens. A mortal challenge."

　　 He hesitated for a moment, and then wrote a paragraph: "Maybe this is just a test of our courage, as long as we drink a certain number of bowls within a limited time."

Is that right? This is just a guess, after all, the time wasted after the two came in is not short, although most of them are Jenkins asking questions.

　　Barnard put down Jenkins' pen, carefully buckled the cap and put it on the newspaper, and then picked up a golden bowl without saying a word. He raised his head and drank it, and for the first time a look of surprise appeared on his face.

　　 "Luck is very good."

　　 He put down the bowl and quickly wrote in the newspaper: "I got a new ability."

　　 "Will it help solve the current situation?"

　　 Jenkins immediately asked hopefully.

　　 Barnard’s expression of excitement stopped immediately, and he pulled back the newspaper again, "No."

　　 "Should I not interrupt his excitement?"

　　 Jenkins thought silently, the middle-aged man beside him returned to that state of tension and silence again.

　　 Although silence is forced.

　　 It's Jenkins' turn again, and now there are 7 of the ten bowls left to choose from.

　　 He tried to visually judge the difference between each bowl, but unfortunately found that the bowls were exactly the same.

　　 You must know that in this era, there is no large-scale electronic mechanized assembly line. Nowadays factories can afford the word "flesh and blood" more than Fu Tukang. Therefore, theoretically, it is absolutely impossible to have two identical bowls.

　　 "Is it a supernatural creation?"

　　 Jenkins can only guess like that, he knows very little about these things, and the existing information is not enough to make him judge the situation at hand.

　　 He hesitantly stretched out his hand again, and at the same time silently calculated in his heart:

"Ten bowls, now one curse one reward one clear water, if the above is the correct probability, then the situation I will face is not the worst. No, there are too few samples, and in this case, it should be calculated according to the worst result. In other words, there is only one reward, less than three bowls of clear water..."

　　 "Am I dead?"

　　 He thought in his heart, all kinds of mixed thoughts kept coming up. The revolving lanterns appeared again, and Jenkins ignored them, licked his lips, and took a drink from the bowl next to the candle.

　　 This is already the second time he has drunk these liquids, so in the process of "drinking", he finally has the mind to notice the sense of touch in addition to the sense of taste.

　　 "How does this bowl look like wood to the touch?"

　　 While thinking about this, Jenkins put down the bowl.

　　 He is still alive, and he looks unscathed.

　　 "Sour and sour, tastes like expired black tea."

　　 He explained to the nervous man beside him, and the man breathed a sigh of relief.

　　 No, it's not that nothing happened, something seemed to appear next to the three light spots in front of me. Jenkins concentrated on looking at the air in front of him, and finally realized that it was a bubble.

　　 At the same time, he also noticed that there were three bubbles in his original vision, but he hadn't noticed it before.

　　 Now Jenkins has a total of three light spots and four bubbles.

　　 hesitated, because he didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, Jenkins told Barnard about the situation. Of course, the number of bubbles that originally existed was not mentioned.

　　Barnard showed a surprised expression, and then turned into depression.

　　 "It's nothing, this is a very good thing." He wrote slowly, "You are lucky, go out and talk about it..."

　　 One person, one bowl, two rounds have passed, but the black robe people still didn't let them off.

　　 "How can we leave?"

　　 Jenkins finally couldn't help but speak to the person opposite, although he knew that this was too rash, but he had to do it.

　　 There was no response, there was still a terrible silence.

　　Barnadella touched Jenkins' dusty and sweaty sleeves and shook his head at him.

　　 The man's face showed a firm expression again. Instead of writing a word, he raised the bowl in front of him, raised his head and drank again.

　　 paused for two or three seconds, he shook his head and wrote the words "clear water".

　　 Jenkins doesn't know if he should cry or laugh. His expression at the moment must be ugly. The silence of the black-robed man means that he wants to continue drinking, but after half of the ten bowls, only one "thunder" was stepped on.

　　 I can understand that in the original ten bowls, the bad results should be the majority. Otherwise, I'm sorry for the two words "weird" and "dangerous" mentioned by Barnard. So his remaining choices are likely to be poisons and curses.

　　 But he had to choose. Barnard has tried bravely three times, and Jenkins has no reason or ability to force him to drink again. The black-robed people on the opposite side looked like they weren't the same. If they lifted the table at this time, I'm afraid the two of them would really not see the sun tomorrow.

　　 "My luck is too bad."

　　 Even if Jenkins was not a complaining person before crossing, he couldn't help but sigh at the almost desperate situation in front of him.

　　 What Jenkins can think of, Barnard can also think of. But he didn't know how to comfort the young man in front of him, so he could only hold the pen and paper in silence, and let him choose as much as possible.

　　 "Think about it, is there any clue, can I just gamble on luck?"

　　 Jenkins yelled at himself in his heart, but it just looked like a clown act before death.

　　 He stretched out his hand hesitantly, tried a few times before putting it back.

　　 "Mr. Barnard, do you think there is a difference between these ten bowls?"

　　 turned his head, he stared and asked unwillingly, his palms were extremely slippery from sweat.

　　 "These ten bowls look exactly the same, they are all wooden bowls painted with jumbled lines. Williams, [Crazy Land] will not force us to a dead end, so there must be a way out in the remaining bowls."

　　 The second half of his speech was in front of the kindly comforting this desperate young man, but Jenkins didn't notice it at all.

　　 Wooden bowl?

　　 He frowned and looked at the word hurriedly spelled out in the newspaper, and repeatedly confirmed that the word in his inherited memory only means "wooden bowl, often referring to dilapidated, chipped and worthless garbage."

Section 6 Chapter 5 Golden Finger Receipt