Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

LATEST WEBSITE: Normally, Geralt wouldn't choose to go for a late night walk, but now he doesn't.

First, he has no money to support the consumption of the brothel.

Second, he didn't want to go back to the reserved room so early. As mentioned earlier, the second floor of that place is a brothel. The witcher knew that when he went back upstairs, he would definitely see many beautiful sights. As far as he knew, most of the clients would not spend the night. So he decided to go back in the early morning.

At that time, perhaps he will be less stimulated.

In this way, he chose to stroll the streets of Novigrad in the middle of the night. Unlike other cities, Novigrad's lighted brazier never goes out at night. Guards with halberds stood guard at the intersections of various bridges and squares.

Night shift jobs are usually more relaxed, and the daytime is not only busy and crowded, but the sun can sometimes make people drowsy. The night was different, they were free to pass the time.

Whether it's chatting together, drinking, playing cards, or even leaving work to go to a brothel. These are all things the rules allow - you can do whatever you want on the night shift as long as you don't get caught.

Except for one case.

Just that something really happened.

Geralt stopped abruptly, and not far ahead, at the end of the cobblestone path, lay the broken body of a man. The cause of his death was a dagger in his chest. Even though he had died, his hands and feet were still twitching, as if he was still alive.

"I really hate myself for being a witcher."

Geralt muttered to himself as he drew his steel sword and walked forward. The corpse lay peacefully on the ground, and he wasn't worried that the unlucky bastard would suddenly get up and give himself a 'surprise'. The dead are the dead, and the dead don't move.

He squatted down, and Shu Tong stared at the dagger on the man's chest and the bloody footprints beside him. The man wore a sleeveless top with a tattered cowhide belt around his waist, and the boots on his legs were new. From this point of view, the possibility of robbery can basically be ruled out.

Thieves won't miss a pair of boots like this.

Geralt continued to observe, he stretched out his right hand with a sheepskin glove, and used two fingers to slightly peel off the clothes on the man's neck, revealing a tattoo. It was a dagger dripping with blood. No doubt, this is a gangster.

Vendetta? Or gang wars?

Several questions began to circle in his mind,

Then, he heard footsteps. The iron sheet hit the cobblestone floor, the wooden pole of the halberd and the armor rubbed against each other, and of course, the guards complained.

"Fairy Wood"

Geralt stood up immediately, moved away from the corpse, and hid in the grass on the right side of the path. At this time, he was extremely grateful to those who designed the so-called urban landscape.

He heard the footsteps of the soldiers stop in front of the corpse, and then, their sighs: "Poor fellow, die here, you have to lie down for a few hours before being collected. Hope he has the money to buy a coffin, otherwise Helping the ghouls might have to leave him in a mass grave outside the city."

"And then eaten by real ghouls?"

The second talking guard told a lame joke, the first naturally didn't laugh. Geralt could imagine his disapproving look. They were silent for a while, then the first guard to speak continued.

"I really don't get it, is Hawthorne crazy? He's at war with three other gangs in town at the same time. Even the beggars didn't spare him. Does he think he has an army?"

"Who knows? It has nothing to do with us anyway. Neither the mayor nor the commander ordered us to help. I guess they want to wait for a result. Whoever wins will help."

"It's better not to say this kind of thing. I know you don't like the gangsters, but Hawthorne is already considered to be the more conscientious bastard among them."

"That's ridiculous."

The second guard who spoke both muttered: "A dozen years ago he was the most bastard in the city, but now he has become the more conscientious one? Well, let's go. Let this poor bastard continue to lie here. Well. Shit. Hope no alcoholics pass by here."

They left, the sound of footsteps drifting away. Geralt stood up from the grass and flicked the leaves off his shoulders with an intriguing expression.

"This is so funny," he said to himself. "I just came to Novigrad and caught up with the gang wars within two days? Ha, I should change my career and start a religion. I'm going to be unlucky wherever I go."

Geralt shook his head, the steel sword still in his hand. He went back to your man, looked at his body, and finally sighed. A few minutes had passed by the time he threw (mostly) the hapless body into the grass.

What can you do in a few minutes?

The following answers are available for you to guess.

One, complete a self-soothing that is not ideal.

Two, put on your clothes and run for your life from your husband back home.

Three, just after the body of a poor bastard was restrained, when he turned his head, he heard the sound of arrows flying.

Too late to raise the sword to block.

Geralt calmly judged the problem, so he moved his fingers, and Quinn's mark formed an orange-yellow shield in place. The arrow missed it, making a sound of steel and steel colliding, and then it was bounced off.

The night vision he got after the transformation allowed him to easily see where the attackers were, how many people they were, and what they looked like. The swordsmen tattoos on their chests or arms put Geralt in a state in an instant.

Insert an interesting anecdote from Vesemir's oral advice on how to survive.

First, never go near the river at night, water ghosts will kill you.

Second, never stay under the Broken Bridge, one of the ghosts' favorite lair spots.

Third, if you see a beautiful woman in the forest at night without wearing a single dress and letting you go there with a smile on her face, run away.

Fourth, be smart and don't challenge a fully armed witcher.

However, many people do not understand this.

Geralt took a step forward, and with the explosiveness it provided, he began to run. Without too much nonsense, there were twelve members of the Swordsmen Group, all of whom were wearing thick leather armor. Five guys with bows or crossbows, the others have either mace or long swords.

In the process of running, he already had a plan. After the run, when he came to the first enemy - he raised his sword.

At this point, only seven seconds had passed since those men had missed their arrows on his Quinn shield.

"Pfft—!"

"what!"

A scream sounded, Geralt turned and slashed horizontally, the blade slicing a fatal arc in the air. Half an arm flew high, followed by a head.

With a cruel smile he didn't even realize, the witcher licked his lips.

"You really shouldn't be messing with me," he said. "I always like to kill you bastards."