The Divine Hunter

The sky was gloomy, cloudy and cloudy, and there was a little bit of water in the air, but the rain did not fall after all, and the traces left on the ground were preserved.

The four witchers tracked these traces, riding horses for a day and a night, and arrived at a tall and dense forest before the next evening.

There was a familiar smell of blood in the air, and the witcher set up the horses and burrowed into the bushes on the thick, soft humus.

The fluffy umbrella-like branches and leaves at the top of the bushes blocked most of the light and blocked their vision. The witcher could only see the straight trunks and clusters of low shrubs nearby, but these were also natural cover for them.

They hunched their backs like cats and stood on their toes, and their figures swiftly moved ghostly from shelter to shelter. About five minutes later, an elk ran into their field of vision from the bushes, and a dead body lay in its path.

The man was lying on his back beside a cedar tree. From his face, he was about thirty years old. His rough and messy linen clothes were stained red with a lot of blood.

The muscles on the man's exposed arms were like hills, and the chest hair was dark and thick in the unbuttoned front of the shirt. He was as strong as a human-shaped bear.

But just such a man, who went without the strength to resist, was subdued by one move before he even had time to pull out the weapon hanging from his waist.

Roy checked the body again, and the fatal wound was a gap in the neck.

The wound was as precise and concise as a scalpel, as small as a blood-colored cotton thread, neither deep nor shallow, just enough to open the trachea and carotid artery.

The witcher touched the wound and could almost imagine the scene at that time: the man was in front of the cedar tree, when the sneak attacker suddenly came up from behind quietly, covering the man's mouth with one hand, while the cold blade was on his neck. The first touch is fleeting, and then recedes gracefully and calmly.

"It's a good hand..." Lesso's fingers dipped a bit of blood, and he summed it up succinctly, "No energy was wasted... The control of the body is like a monster."

"This is normal..." Oaks said in a low voice, "That group of people has always been devoted to swordsmanship."

Roy listened, but he had a strong hunch that if he wanted to experience this time, he would probably go all in vain.

In addition to the wound between the neck of the deceased, two ears were also cut off, turning into two bloody holes.

And witchers usually only do this kind of unethical behavior to monsters such as water ghosts.

"It really is a bunch of lunatics."

"He wanted to give the 'booty' to that child as evidence of revenge."

...

The witcher continued to go deeper, and soon found a second dead man surrounded by three large trees. The same sword sealed his throat and had both ears cut off.

There was a dead roe deer lying beside him, from which it was inferred that he should have encountered the "ghost" while hunting in the woods.

"That guy was very patient. He stayed behind the robbers, and waited until they entered the woods and dispersed before launching an attack." Roy sneered, "These idiots have never even heard of Lin Mojun? How many of them will survive? ?"

He quickly got close to the answer.

The witcher came to an open space in the middle of the woods. There were five or six tents erected here. In the center was a huge bonfire. The wood was burned to black coal, but the fire went out. The iron pot on the shelf was knocked down. the ground next to it.

And near the iron pot, lay a circle of corpses neatly.

Their death was much more tragic than the previous two. The clothes on their chests were tattered by the high-speed cutting of the sword, revealing a large bloody wound.

Each of the six corpses was hit by at least a dozen swords.

However, there are few traces of fighting on the scene, which proves that the fighting lasted very short.

"This is unreasonable..." Oaks was surprised, for a while he couldn't imagine how the perpetrator shot so many times in a short period of time.

"I can probably guess."

Roy quietly pulled out the blade behind his back and made several movements along the footprints of the suspected murderer near the bonfire.

The witcher's hands and wrists twitched rapidly, and the blade spiraled downwards from the top of his head, going round and round like the hands of a clock.

The blade of the sword kept sweeping through the air, making a low hissing sound, and at the same time, his footsteps moved forward slowly, and his body was also

rotate.

Like a moving whirlwind.

It's a pity that his movements are clumsy and awkward because his swordsmanship is not solid enough.

But this is enough. With his demonstration, the Oaks brothers looked suddenly, "Little devil, how did you think of it?"

"To be honest, I can't remember which book I've seen it in," Roy explained half-truths, "and I can only imitate it badly, it's far from the real cat-style swordsmanship, and I can't express it at all. The essence of it."

"Cat School of Swordsmanship? You must communicate with that guy if you have a chance..." Oaks raised his eyebrows, his interest became more and more intense.

...

These corpses have been dead for less than two hours, and the "souvenirs" have not been cut off. Probably the murderer didn't have time, and he was busy hunting the escapees.

The witcher searched the tent again. The luggage and belongings in the tent were still there, but no one was there. A row of messy footprints in front of the tent pointed to the green trees—

On the gray humus covered with dead branches and fallen leaves, intermittent blood droplets appeared, and a stream of dark red blood molecules stretched in the air.

They went further into the jungle.

Then, in a lush bush, they found four deceased people with various forms of death. The witcher noticed that one of the deceased had broken hamstrings and could only crawl on the ground.

Along the crawling trajectory, he left a shocking row of bloodstains under him, and before he took his last breath, he stretched his hands desperately forward, his face solidified with horror and unwillingness.

The wounds on his body are scattered, almost all of them are superfluous, and the fatal wound is a penetrating wound from the back to the front chest. There is no doubt that the perpetrator stepped on his back and pinned him to the ground with a long sword from top to bottom.

Killing here, the demon hunter of the cat faction seems to have been completely inspired by the fierceness in his body, and is no longer satisfied with simple killing.

He started torturing his opponent.

"What did I say? The cat faction is a bunch of lunatics!" Serret put his arms around his chest, his face was indifferent, and he seemed extremely disgusted with this method of torturing his opponent.

"But he did the right thing!" Roy said solemnly, "Such executioners and beasts are not worthy of sympathy, they should die in pain!"

"You're wrong, Roy, I didn't pity him. But don't torture the mortal. The extra emotions in the battle will reduce the efficiency of the shot, and even be overturned by the opponent."

The argument between the two was fruitless.

The bushes shook violently suddenly, and there was a bellows-like gasp, followed by staggering footsteps.

A man covered in blood suddenly rushed into the sight of the witchers.

He widened his eyes, watching the four witchers like drowning people clinging to life-saving straws, a look of surprise on his desperate face.

"Help...help me!"

The man's voice was trembling, and he stretched out his hand to the opposite side with difficulty, gritted his teeth and dragged his injured body a little faster, and the witcher also ran towards him.

But someone moved faster - a ghost suddenly appeared in the bushes, the ghost stretched its neck and stretched its limbs very long, like a prey cat.

Then with a sudden leap, he fell behind the man, circling him in a dazzling circle, while a dazzling series of sharp white light passed through the air.

The next second, the man covered in blood was torn apart.

Because of inertia, his corpse fell in different places, and finally a solitary head rolled at the feet of the four witchers.

His lips moved, the man seemed to think he was saved, and he still maintained an ugly smile on his face.

The witcher raised his head. Not far from the opposite side, a strong-looking man was slowly wiping the blood from his sword, showing his fine white teeth at them.