hunter rule

The liquid on the ground that has long since dried up must be some kind of poison.

Someone was once preparing poison inside this room.

Could it be the original Zhao Guangli?

Zhao Guangli raised his gaze and fixed his vision around the room.

A bed that looked like it was covered in mold and looked like it was impossible to sleep on.

There is a picture frame beside the bed, and there seems to be a photo in the picture frame.

"This is……"

Zhao Guangli came closer and held the photo in a delicate frame in his hand.

The photo must be a few years old. The white frame looks a little yellow now, and it has a frosted texture when touched in the hand.

In the photo are a father and son, a middle-aged man and a boy about twelve or thirteen years old.

The outline of this young man was basically the same as that of Zhao Guangli, so it only took Zhao Guangli two seconds to determine the identity of the middle-aged man in the photo.

"It's the original Zhao Guangli's father, Zhao Heng."

A middle-aged man wearing black special clothing is standing in the photo holding his child and grinning.

That special black outfit made Zhao Guangli a little concerned.

The overall armor was made of exquisite light armor. It didn't look bloated at all, but had a light and simple feel. What caught Zhao Guangli's attention even more was a certain weapon that was blocked by the middle-aged man and hung on his back.

The weapon was hidden in the shadows, and only a rough outline could be seen, and there seemed to be a blade that shone with a cold light.

Zhao Guangli knew very well that Zhao Heng was supposed to have died two years ago while out hunting. This was something recorded in the records.

But judging from the current photos, Zhao Guangli's father doesn't look like an ordinary person at all.

If the shadow of the weapon on his back is a crossbow blade, it means that Zhao Guangli's father is not a hunter in the literal sense, but a professional hunter.

"Going out hunting..."

Zhao Guangli held the photo in his hand and savored the words.

If you are an ordinary hunter, hunting wild animals is of course normal.

From a professional perspective, the hunter might be a demon.

Just as Zhao Guangli was staring at the photo, a cold breath came from behind him. Inexplicably, Zhao Guangli's hair suddenly stood up.

"who!"

Zhao Guangli turned around quickly and said coldly.

There was nothing in the darkness, only a faint light coming from the cracks.

Zhao Guangli frowned and looked at the door of the room, which seemed to be shaking slightly.

There seemed to be something watching me in the dark.

Zhao Guangli was very sensitive to this perception, and he was sure that what he just said was not an illusion.

After walking out of the door, the corridor was still extremely dark. Beyond a certain distance, it was almost impossible to see anything.

"This room belongs to 'my' father."

Zhao Guangli looked to the other side: "Then this room, of course, is mine."

The wooden door has various scratches on it, which are chaotic and unnecessary. Scarlet embellishments of unknown origin are scattered on the ground, like solidified blood.

The sound of dripping water came from the first floor. Apart from this sound, the only sound left was the sound of Zhao Guangli's footsteps.

Snap...

Snap...

Zhao Guangli walked into his room with an expressionless face.

There was no damp and rotten smell here, and it was a little cleaner than Zhao Guangli expected. Of course, it was just a little bit cleaner.

A bed, which is not that big, is placed in the center of the room.

There is a light-colored desk with some yellow-brown papers scattered around.

On the wooden walls, there are various strange patterns, which seem to be specially carved with a knife, but the technique is very childish.

"Zhao Guangli's room."

Zhao Guangli suddenly felt like he was playing a horror game. He slowly approached the desk and looked at the yellow-brown papers on the table.

The papers seemed to have been kneaded and torn into pieces and then put back together again.

Each piece of yellow-brown paper has the same handwriting, which is not pretty and relatively messy.

However, what Zhao Guangli can be sure of is that this is not the original handwriting of Zhao Guangli because it is completely different.

"Ali...I'm sorry."

"This time...there's no way to escape."

"This is fate."

There are only these three sentences on the first piece of paper. The handwriting is so scrawled that it is almost impossible to read it accurately. It should be said that the owner of the writing seemed to have almost lost control of his mentality when he wrote these words.

A Li.

Zhao Guangli looked at the reassembled papers and quickly thought about the situation in front of him.

These things were not written by Zhao Guangli, but... someone wrote them to Zhao Guangli.

"Is this fate?" Zhao Guangli looked at the words: "People in this world seem to believe in such things as fate."

As a classic materialist, Zhao Guangli's greatest limit is to accept the extraordinary of this world.

And Zhao Guangli himself never believed in fate.

On the second piece of paper, I scrawled a little more. Some of the words didn't even have time to finish writing, and they were directly connected into one stroke.

"This is the last chance."

"Before the curse breaks out, we must find a way."

"I'm sorry, Ali."

"I'm really sorry."

There is not much information on each piece of paper, and the records are also quite fragmented. However, Zhao Guangli also continued to make guesses based on this not much information.

And these speculations are beginning to take shape.

"It's too late."

"You can't become a formal-level hunter with just a crossbow. Without formal accessories, you can't advance even if you have formal-level rituals."

"Arrows that are rumored to explode powerfully."

"No need for a physical quiver."

"A special device that can replace the eyes for observation and perception."

"It's clearly recorded in the family notes."

"Do those things that are only legendary among the gaps in history... really exist?"

"The curse is swallowing my sanity, and unspeakable horror lingers before my eyes."

"Absolutely not."

"Please ask God, no matter who he is."

"Who can help me!"

In the end, all that appeared before Zhao Guangli's eyes was despair.

The handwriting was the same as that of Harlan Bode who cursed Zhao Guangli in [Blackwater Swamp], the feeling of despair that he could not escape and accept before his death.

In the end, it was just a mental breakdown.

This should be... what Zhao Guangli's father, Zhao Heng, left behind.

Zhao Guangli already had his own answer.

From these pieces of paper, Zhao Guangli found some key information.

The first point is also the most important point.

Judging from the contents of these fragments, Zhao Guangli's father attempted to become a formal professional.

What kind of existence are formal professionals?

Zhao Guangli couldn't imagine it for the time being. He just knew that associate-level professionals could go through the ceremony again and become apprentice-level professionals, and the higher-level apprentice level would be the official level.

Zhao Guangli has seen the combat effectiveness of the trainee level before, and because of this, Zhao Guangli simply cannot imagine the concept of a real official level.

More importantly, according to the information, Zhao Guangli's father was originally a hunter at the apprentice level.

"It seems like 'my' family is actually not that difficult."

Zhao Guangli's family should be an out-and-out extraordinary family.

What is inherited is the rare profession - hunter.