I became the master of the alien world

Chapter 208 Fighting

The boy looked to be only twelve years old at most. His skin was covered with a layer of black and dirty soot, and his young face had a frightened expression.

What's funny is that Mordred was no less frightened than the other person. After all, he had only seen news reports about African refugees for such a "slender" child.

"Are you okay?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized that this question was nonsense.

The boy still looked like he had seen a ghost, staring at Mordred with his big bony eyes.

"Oh, you are really unlucky to be cursed at such a young age." Mordred said, taking a few steps closer to the boy and stretching out his right hand to pull him up.

The boy's body shook violently, as if he was trying his best to avoid Mordred's hands touching his body. Unfortunately, he was extremely weak at this time, and his body like dry wood could not stop shaking.

There was no room for resistance.

When Mordred's fingers touched the other person, a bone-chilling chill instantly rose deep in his heart - this guy's body had no temperature! To be precise, there was no feeling of warmth.

He immediately retracted his hand and pinched his face gently.

The cruel reality was before his eyes again, and he couldn't feel any warmth on his face!

"It seems that the rumors are true, but why do I still feel cold?" Mordred was puzzled.

A glimmer of light suddenly flashed through the boy's dark eyes, and his gaze suddenly focused on one point. Mordred lowered his head and saw the bamboo basket in his hand, and then realized that he had been staring at the food in the basket.

"No, do you want this?" Mordred pointed to the dark, hard loaf of bread.

The light in the boy's eyes became more intense. As if he had just reacted, he stretched his arms forward with all his strength.

"Food..." He finally opened his mouth, opening his mouth with few teeth, and hesitantly said: "Give it to me... Please."

What is unbelievable is that the boy's arm stayed in the air for a few seconds, and then immediately dropped down as if it had been dislocated. Such a simple movement actually used up all his energy!

"This is really crazy!" Mordred witnessed all this, and the fear in his heart was growing little by little.

I saw the poor guy struggling hard, and finally shrank back into the cold corner again.

However, he still looked up at Mordred, with eyes full of sadness and pain.

Mordred remembered that when he was in Cassano City, he had encountered so-called beggars. Without exception, they were all idle and lazy men, and some were even stronger than himself.

The pain shown by the boy in front of him was definitely not fake.

The troubled prince sighed helplessly, took out the bread from the sacrifice basket, and handed it to the boy's hand.

Mordred noticed an expression of disbelief on the boy's face, which made him feel even more uneasy than the despair on his face before.

The boy must have given up hope long ago. He just reached out and begged out of habit, without really expecting to get anything.

Mordred left the boy where he was and continued walking carefully down the narrow alley.

He secretly prayed in his heart that other places in the city would not be as cold as the main square just now.

Maybe the mess there is just caused by too many people gathering together.

However, Mordred was completely wrong. The evils in the alley were even worse than those in the square.

A faint thumping sound came from behind, and Mordred turned his head sharply.

A group of black figures stood at the end of the street, surrounding a small object on the ground - it was the beggar just now.

Mordred looked at the four ragged men in panic as they fought to swallow the loaf of bread he sent out, fighting with each other and completely ignoring the boy's desperate cries.

"You want to attract everyone here, bastard!"

Finally, one of the men could no longer bear the noise, picked up a nearby wooden stick, and hit the boy hard on the head. The sound of the boy falling to the ground echoed repeatedly in the alley.

Those guys ate all the bread in their hands in the blink of an eye, and then turned their eyes to Mordred.

"It's completely over now."

He stepped back step by step and realized that his previous belief that he was out of danger was not too naive.

The four men approached him with a ferocious smile. Mordred turned around in a panic, and then ran away quickly.

The sound of chasing gradually approached from behind, and Mordred ran hard, feeling that his heart was about to beat out of his chest - this delicate body was obviously not able to adapt to such strenuous exercise.

He ran away like crazy, feeling sore all over his body. Once he fell down here, he might never be able to stand up again.

This kind of psychological suggestion is quite terrifying. Mordred felt that the life force in his body was passing away bit by bit.

In desperation, Mordred had no choice but to throw the basket containing the sacrifices back carelessly. However, this clumsy move caused the whole person to lose his balance immediately. In addition, Mord just happened to step on a crack in the floor.

Red dove into the pile of rotten wood on the side of the road.

The pile of rotten wood creaked with a heavy blow, forcibly stopping his stumbling steps.

Mordred sat up quickly, and the splinters of wood shook off from his body and scattered among the gaps in the floor.

The food spilled from the basket successfully diverted the attention of these guys.

They whizzed past Mordred, completely ignoring his presence. They just lay down in the mud of the alley, struggling to dig out scattered vegetable leaves and grains from the cracks in the ground.

One of them slipped his fingers into the crack and pulled out more mud than grain, but he still couldn't wait to stuff the indescribable thing into his mouth.

When Mordred saw this scene, he suddenly felt his stomach churn.

The extremely disgusting saliva dripped slowly along the man's chin, like unknown liquid overflowing from a boiling and bubbling swamp.

After a brief period of confusion, one of the guys noticed Mordred's gaze and immediately stopped what he was doing. He roared in an inhuman voice and reached out to grab the wooden stick at his waist that he used as a weapon.

stick.

Mordred woke up instantly, and it was almost impossible to get up and run away. What's even worse was that the toe he had just hit was sending constant pain messages, filling his mind, and he couldn't even think normally.

.

"Damn it, we have to find a way to get rid of these guys!" Mordred felt his whole body trembling, whether it was a conditioned reflex of extreme fear or a precursor to an explosion of desire to survive.

——

"call"

Lancelot closed the book, threw it into a different space, then opened the door and walked out of the basement, preparing to go to the well to get a bucket of well water to sober up.

(End of chapter)