Hunting High School

"Pick up your hat!"

The old voice continued to be uploaded from the puppet man's top hat, emphasizing in a commanding tone:

"hurry up!"

On the rostrum, the puppet seemed a little surprised by the sudden appearance—of course, compared with the many young wizards in the audience, its surprise was clearly within the acceptable range.

"It's not time for dinner, my dear." The puppet man's sharp and piercing voice suddenly became oily, and his tone was much lighter: "You can sleep for a while."

It raised its slender arms, stretched its palms, and carefully supported them on both sides of its cheeks. At the same time, its two eyeballs turned upwards at a ridiculous angle, trying to look at the brim of the hat protruding from its forehead.

As if instead of a hat it had a bomb on its head.

"Take it! Lift it up! Yours! Hat!!"

The old voice roared, and it was extremely harsh: "You, a wooden frame gnawed out by Flobber caterpillars, has your head been eaten away by moths?! You turned your head so hard, and you still have the face to let me continue to sleep? !!!”

The puppet raised its long pointed nose, and expressed a dazed expression on its stiff face.

"I always thought that vertigo would help sleep." It placed its palm heavily on its face, took its head off its shoulders again, held it in its palm and looked around—God knows what it was using to look at its own head—at the same time Explained: "Plus, my head is not hollow."

The puppet denied it, and added in a rambling manner: "You should know, it is made of elm, solid. My arms, legs, and head are all made of elm. At first they thought peach wood was too soft, and elderberry was too soft. It is too hard, and the locust wood is too yin, so I finally made me out of elm, and I remember mentioning this to you more than once."

"Shut up! You idiot!!"

"Don't call me an idiot, call me 'Puppet Highness'."

"Shut up!! Mouth!!! Stupid!! You shit!!!"

"If you continue to be so rude, be careful that I poke seventeen or eight transparent holes in this hat with my nose."

On the rostrum, the puppet holds Own's head, as if talking stand-up comedy, swearing, and he is very happy to say what you say.

Under the rostrum, the young wizards listened to the neurotic wooden man on the stage go crazy, and looked at each other, wondering if they should take this opportunity to attack the light shield at the door again.

But before that, everyone had reorganized into hunting teams and established defensive formations one after another. Some hunters injured in the unrest are also undergoing initial treatment with the help of others.

For a while, the two groups of people on and off the stage went their own way, with a feeling of being quite distinct and not interfering with each other.

Of course, this state of 'peace' did not last long.

Under the roar and threat of the old voice, the puppet quickly compromised and took the top hat off Own's head.

"You'll regret it...the hunting game hasn't started yet, if you come out now, besides drooling for a few hours, do you have anything else to gain?" The cap hung around his neck.

Taking off the high hat, the puppet's bare forehead was exposed.

In fact, there is not a single hair on the entire head of the wooden man. The reason why the forehead is bald is emphasized because there is a large golden high-backed chair standing on the front of its head and further back.

On the chair sat an ugly, fist-sized humanoid creature.

It was dressed in a gorgeous silver robe, leaned on a chopstick-like staff, and wore a gothic wizard hat on its head. The gray beard was piled up in a mess on its face, making it almost invisible. Clear its facial features.

Compared with the gorgeous makeup on the upper body, its lower body looks much shabby.

No pants, no socks, no shoes—yes, this guy the size of a fist has two hairy calves bare, with fluffy toes exposed, allowing his bare soles to drink the northwest wind.

"It's delicious!" The little old man took a deep breath and said with a chuckle, "Every ray of passer-by in the air is full of tempting, bloody fragrance!"

Weird rhetoric, weird tone, weird appearance, weird clothes - this little old man sitting on the head of a puppet reveals a weird, mix-and-match atmosphere from inside to outside, giving people a kind of Very uncomfortable feeling.

It seems that there is no way to relax in a chair.

The little old man turned over, supported the magic staff, climbed onto the chair with great effort, then opened his arms, looked at the young wizards under the stage, and smiled sinisterly:

"Young wizard..."

"Whether you like to play with dead bodies or with souls;"

"Or like to croon Devil's ballads and smear bloody runes on yellow paper;"

"Whether you like the feeling of mithril and gemstones blending together in a spell, or the wonderful sound of bubbling in a cauldron, or the charming fragrance of Manjusawa when it opens."

"It doesn't matter."

"In my garden, you will all find your own home!"

"Want to gain a long life?"

"Want to have endless wealth?"

"Want to really stand out?!"

"go Go……"

"They're in my garden!!"

"Present..."

"Ahem!!" The puppet coughed violently twice, interrupting the little old man's chant.

The little old man frowned, raised his furry toes, scratched his messy beard, paused, raised his staff again, and continued to chant: "Offer..."

"Ahem!!" The puppet continued to cough twice.

"Boom! Boom!" The little old man grabbed the staff in his hand and angrily poked the forehead of the puppet under the high-back chair: "Shut up! You elm head!! Let me finish my sentence! Your adults didn't teach you How do you write the word polite?!"

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"There are no adults in my family." The puppet shrugged and replied very sincerely.

The tall hat hanging around its neck trembled as he shrugged, as if it would fall off at any time.

"Then will you shut up?!" The little old man continued to poke the puppet's forehead wildly with his stick.

"Yes, yes." The tremor in his head made the puppet tremble a little when he spoke, and he had to stretch out two fingers to grab the staff that the little old man was poking wildly: "...but not now. When you ask for sacrifices."

"It's... my... fart... matter!!" The little old man struggled to refute, and at the same time competed with the puppet's two fingers for the ownership of the staff, and his whole body was almost hanging from the staff.

"Before the secret garden is opened, it's none of your business." The puppet man rubbed his fingertips, turned the little old man off the staff, and added calmly: "As for those delicacies after entering the secret garden, It's up to you to do what you want to do."

After the little old man fell back from the staff to the golden high-backed chair, he shook his head vigorously and didn't recover for a long time.