Hunting College

() It wasn't until the moon passed the mid-sky and began to sink slowly that Matthew finally bid farewell to his cousin.

"After you go back, don't rush to read the information about the hunting team training. You can sort out the spells you have mastered since childhood... Remember to prepare a few more books." Sir Friedman sent his cousin out of the terrace, Gentlely instructed: "For hunters, the most reliable power on the hunting ground always exists in your books."

Matthew nodded repeatedly.

"There is no need to worry about magic potions and alchemy supplies. My club has a complete set of backups, which you can use at any time."

"There is also a mid-term exam, so don't need to pay too much attention...Because it has a relatively low weight in the comprehensive evaluation at the end of the school year, most professors will choose the mode of in-class exam. As long as the work on weekdays is carefully completed, the mid-term exam will be awarded. Good evaluation is not difficult."

Matthew absently listened to his cousin's words, allowing the alchemy doll to help him put on a cloak made of the heavy Minotaur's back leather, but his eyes couldn't help sliding over the fence in front of the terrace in the distance.

In the moonlight, the vivid banshee statue on the railing seemed to move and tilted his head towards the room.

The young vampire couldn't help but squinted.

The banshee statue was restored to its original shape, as if the scene just now was an illusion.

"Is there really a monster in it?" Matthew finally couldn't help but curiosity in his heart, and looked at his cousin: "I mean, in the pillars, are there really any monsters in it?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the young vampire immediately regretted it.

He shouldn't mention these baseless nonsense in front of his cousin.

But Sir Friedman's reaction was beyond his expectations.

Jazz followed Matthew's gaze and looked towards the fence. He was taken aback for a moment, and did not immediately sneer at his cousin's slightly naive question.

After a while, the Jazz spoke slowly and said, "Maybe...maybe not. Who knows?"

This answer made Matthew's eyes widened.

He turned his head involuntarily and looked at the terrace under the moonlight.

The vines clinging to the foot of the railing spread wide leaves, trembling in the evening wind. The trembling shadows of these leaves were left on the marble floor of the terrace, as if a demon thrown into **** struggling in an endless abyss.

"That terrace has existed for a long time since the first Karen entered this lounge... This room was originally the office of an old professor of Alpha College."

"Later the professor disappeared. It happened at that time that the Cullen family won the war with the O'Brien-Black coalition forces, and they were able to ask for a lounge in this castle... So this house finally fell. In our hands."

"According to some documents I found in the room, the old professor once received the'Outstanding Contribution Award' from the Wizarding League to recognize his great contribution to the exploration of the new world...according to the brief on the trophy base Judging from the description of, the old professor should have captured a complete'pseudo **** system' in a new world and successfully brought it into the black prison."

"This terrace is to commemorate the glory of the old professor and was polished by the fairies with their fingers little by little... The seventy-two railings around the terrace represent the seventy-two false gods in the false **** system. ."

"Since it is a god, it naturally has some kind of induction."

"These railings, this terrace, and this room have a constant cause and effect between the seventy-two false gods... So, if you think there are some elves sealed in the railings, my answer is, maybe there is , Maybe not."

"Who knows?"

"I always thought this terrace was built by our Karen family." Matthew raised his eyebrows, his tone a little surprised: "And it is rumored that someone from the Karen family stuffed these railings with the souls of demons. "

"You said it, it's rumored." Sir Friedman handed the Burgundy cup in his hand to the elf next to him, then took a wet handkerchief, wiped the corner of his mouth, and shook his head: "In this world, seeing Not necessarily true... let alone rumors? Abandoning the subjective emotions when reporting, wizards have no history."

Sir's words were a little bit esoteric, and Matthew didn't fully understand it for a while.

But this did not prevent him from continuing this brief conversation before parting.

"It turns out that there are gods in the black prison!" The young vampire's eyes sparkled, showing a certain emotion that could be called ‘desire’.

"Before you really graduate from the first university, don't think about that place... don't mention it." Sir Friedman rarely warned the young man in front of him in a harsh tone: "That is a real abyss...for us The creatures under the moon with the Yin attribute are especially unfriendly. Maybe only after you surpass the ordinary registered wizards, you can get rid of the negative influence of that place."

"At that time, if you are still interested in black prison, you can consider submitting an application for assistance to the first university."

...

...

When Sir Friedman and his cousin mentioned the dark prison that demons hated the most.

At the other end of this Alpha Castle.

It is also a spacious lounge.

Someone also mentioned the name of Hell.

"The people in the black prison are all big people."

"For example, those old and immortal demon kings, or idols worshipped by natives in the new world, and some great wizards who have done too much experimentation and accidentally turned into liches."

"And we...we just reselled some gadgets through the murlocs in the Linzhong Lake Reserve... No wizard court would waste precious manpower and material resources to compare with us young people."

The speaker was a fat man with a strong stature~www.wuxiaspot.com~ His eyebrows were thick and thin, and his eyes were small, but very dark. This made his eyes look a little dark. Because of the two pieces of fat on his cheeks, he always feels laborious when speaking.

In other words, it gives him a powerful feeling when he speaks.

Mike King Seprano never cared whether others frowned when they heard him, he only cared whether they understood what he meant.

At this moment, he was sitting lazily in the large armchair, raising his hands, and looking at the ring-shaped snake on his wrist, holding the huge night pearl on the wall.

It is a colorful ouroboros.

One finger was wide and thin, wrapped around his wrist, the snake head biting the tail, meeting together above the pulse. As the pulse beat, the snake head seemed to tremble and tremble.

Around Seprano, sitting or standing, there are always more than a dozen figures.