I became the master of the alien world

Chapter 207 It all depends on acting skills

During the process of getting dressed, Lancelot felt extremely depressed.

Suddenly, he thought of something.

"Er!" The boy recited the spell of space magic word by word, and a faint green light glowed in his palm.

A few seconds later, when the light dissipated, Lancelot had a hard-cover book in his hand: "The Traveler in Another World".

Lancelot snapped his fingers, and a milky white ball of light floated in front of him, illuminating the entire room.

The boy took a deep breath and opened the title page.

"For those who believe, death is the door to eternal life."

Lancelot continued to turn the pages and looked down from where he was last time.

——

Mordred lowered his head and let out a silent cry. He felt like he was tied into a ball and kicked off the edge of the cliff. He hoped that this was just a nightmare.

However, he knew very well that the moment he woke up from the dream would never come.

On the way to New Orlando, the well-meaning priests had told him very clearly that this nightmare would never dry up like the Ganges dividing the northern and southern continents, until the whole world was completely transformed into decay.

Mordred stood up slowly, and the unpleasant stench in the air seemed not that exaggerated.

He suddenly understood that he had to keep moving forward, as if something was driving him ahead. If he stopped here, he didn't know if he could stand up again.

The blessing of the gods had taken away his body, but Mordred would never allow it to taint his soul.

However, the scene in New Orlando will not change in any way because of the rain, because not only the people in the city, but the entire city is also cursed.

"No, I have to find a way to communicate with them." Mordred stood on the edge of the square, trying to find a normal-looking person.

These people who have been abandoned by the world talk to each other in an obscure whisper, and most people choose to remain silent. The cruel reality makes them numb.

Mordred saw a woman standing on the far edge of the square, crying at the top of her lungs. It took a while before she stopped, obviously she had exhausted all her strength.

Most people are dressed like torn pieces of rags. Their dull, tattered clothes are as ugly as the streets.

After taking a closer look, Mordred recognized the clothes. He lowered his head and glanced at the white mourning clothes he was wearing. The linen at the cuffs and feet had long been polluted by the city gates and street stones.

Mordred suspected that the garment would soon become unrecognizable after the christening of New Orlando.

This is what I will become - Mordred thought desperately.

The nightmare has begun, and in a few weeks, I will become one of those lifeless bodies, or some living dead lying on the street wailing.

The movement on the other side of the square caught Mordred's attention, temporarily breaking him out of his thoughts of self-destruction.

In the dark passage in front of him, there were several New Orlandoans squatting on the ground. Because the light was too dark, Mordred couldn't see their specific outlines at all.

But they seem to be waiting for something, maybe they are just out of curiosity.

However, he could clearly feel that more and more malicious eyes were quickly focusing on him.

Suddenly, Mordred saw those figures taking a few steps back.

It turned out that the sun had peeked out of the clouds. Even though it was already dusk, the unblocked sunlight was still very dazzling.

He saw that the surrounding environment had become much brighter, and the slow-moving New Orlandoans stopped moving and looked up at the sun in the sky.

If he could see the eyes of those people at this moment, he would find that they are full of morbid longing.

Mordred subconsciously used his palms to block the dazzling sunlight. At this moment, he suddenly remembered the straw basket at hand, which contained the St. Peter's sacrifice prepared for the people of New Orlando.

Apparently the priests believed that there was not much difference in a fundamental sense between sending people to New Orlando and praying for the dead.

The basket contained a loaf of dark bread, a handful of stale vegetable leaves and a small bottle of rum.

What comforted him was that even the humblest New Orlandoans could receive a portion of food before entering the city. Although the sacrifices that ordinary families used to offer sacrifices to the dead were far more than this.

Mordred glanced at the group of shadows in the darkness, unable to tell whether they were humans or beasts. The rumors he had heard when he was still in Cassano City flashed through his mind, about the barbaric behavior in New Orlando.

statement.

Although the figures hidden in the darkness were silent for the time being, their greedy eyes had already made Mordred nervous.

"Don't panic, hold on tight." He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his fear, but an indescribable stench entered his nostrils, and he choked and coughed twice.

"Damn it!" Mordred couldn't help but cursed in his heart. He didn't want to anger these lunatics and then be beaten to death with sticks.

"You can't see me, you can't see me." Mordred straightened his chest, as if he wanted to prove that he was not as vulnerable as he seemed.

Mordred took a tentative step to the side, trying to avoid the guys in the shadows along the west side of the square. Although those figures were still staring at him, they surprisingly did not follow him.

After a while, he could no longer see the person behind the door and quickly turned into the side alley.

Mordred breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that he had just escaped some danger that he didn't know about.

After a while, after making sure that no one was following him, he laughed at his nervousness and stupidity.

"Hey, be mature and don't forget that you are a time traveler."

Fortunately, so far, he has not really encountered anything that can be used to confirm the terrible rumors of New Orlando. Mordred continued his steps uneasily.

The air around him was breathless, and the ubiquitous sludge gave off a putrid smell like a corpse.

"I bet something bad will happen next." Mordred looked up at the gloomy sky, his expression becoming more solemn.

An old man was huddled and shivering by the wall of the building, like a withered and tangled tree trunk, and the unpleasant stench made Mordred almost step on the old man's body.

The old man let out a miserable scream, raised his weak arms and stretched out to Mordred.

Mordred lowered his head to look at the old man, and felt a chill instantly rush from the soles of his feet to the top of his head - this guy was not an "old man", he was clearly just a child!

——

Lancelot opened the door and walked out of the basement, preparing to go to the well to get a bucket of well water to clear his head. He subconsciously touched his head and found that he had been bitten to pieces by a spider in his dream.

Lancelot walked through the dark and cold underground passage and walked along the spiral escalator to the ground. He pushed open the back door of the castle covered with green vines and came to the all-too-familiar well.

(End of chapter)