The Divine Hunter

In the warm morning light, a breeze blew over the murmured hills, the hunchbacked swamps, the green fields, and the muddy lanes of the Lower Valen country, making the witcher's heart rise and fall.

"Balder Hill, the base of the old witch, the mysterious golden oak..." Oak said, holding the bloody package of sacrifices in one hand and the reins in the other, and said dejectedly, "Damn it! Why can't it be I accompany Roy?" Oakes threw the package, indignant, "It's the next Warren who doesn't shit, running errands in this kind of place is boring!"

"Keep your voice down, idiot!" Serrit looked around vigilantly behind him, and did not find any abnormality in the farmland and grass by the roadside, so he lowered his voice and said, "Don't let the old witch's eyes and ears hear you. Complaining, sabotaging everyone's plans!"

"I know this, I'm just a little unwilling, why let Lesso take on the most important part every time?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because your broken mouth will do bad things!" Serrit made a final decision, then bent at the corner of Oaks' mouth,

"Actually, from another point of view, our trip is not very boring... Offering sacrifices to the lady in the forest, maybe we will be able to see their beauty," Serret said with anticipation, "If they really look like The beauty depicted in the oil painting is outstanding, and we are well worth it."

"You are daydreaming." Oakes sneered and shook his head. "Shuxin clearly explained that the three sisters are all old women with goosebumps. But if you can accept this kind of appearance, it's okay to call them big beauties. ."

"You believe in Shuxin so much, are you sure she didn't lie?" Serret looked inscrutable, "Ox, let me tell you this, I may not be as good as you in terms of swordsmanship, but you are not as good as you in terms of understanding of women. I am a bystander. Women will never be stingy with the most vicious curses on their enemies... Therefore, I think the real situation should be completely opposite to the description of the heart of the tree!" Serrit analyzed seriously, "Old witch, The three sisters, with powerful mana, it shouldn't be difficult to stay young like ordinary sorceresses."

Seeing his brother's determined expression, Oaks rubbed his chin and couldn't help but shake a little, "If you really keep your beauty... it's okay to meet."

"Got it..." Serret added at last, "If she's pretty and hot enough, what does it matter to the old witch?"

The cat faction witcher who was walking in front shook his head listening to the conversation between the two of them. At such a time, they were still thinking about bickering. Is it because of the nerves and the lack of a tendon in the head? Or in danger?

"Snake faction's unique way of decompressing?" Phrius shook his head, looked at the village of Lower Valen not far away, and clenched his fists.

...

"Witcher,

Bringing offerings? "

At the entrance of the village, Carson took a puff of his pipe and spit the white smoke ring into the witcher's face.

"Old man, you should believe in the reputation of the witcher, we always do what we say!" Oakes said, and threw the package to the village chief, who took it and opened it, and his expression instantly became very exciting.

Inside the package was a hideous, huge werewolf head. Its two eyeballs had been dug out, leaving only a bloody hole. The tongue was cut from the base of the tongue, and blood was seeping continuously.

When the sun shines, a row of jagged canine teeth in the long wolf's snout flashes coldly, making people panic.

Carson swallowed and took another deep look at the witcher.

"Now bring it up to the open space behind the village, where there is an altar, you need to offer sacrifices to the lady in the forest with your own hands to complete the final sacrifice." After speaking, Carson stretched out his hand to point out the direction for the witcher.

"Aren't you going with me, old man?"

"I didn't get a summons from Madam..." Carson's eyes flashed a hint of timidity, "I can't rush to disturb them."

After he finished speaking, Carson turned around and reprimanded the surrounding villagers watching the fun, and You Qi glared fiercely at the big man who was sticking like a stick in the same place, exposing the thick black hair on his chest,

"Speaking of you, why are you still standing stupid, who can you kill with a pitchfork!? Don't let go! Do you want to go to see the lady with the witcher?"

The big man screamed in horror in an instant, turned around and ran.

The rest of the villagers also scattered, like frightened children, hid in the thatched cottage in the village in a panic, then leaned against their windows and watched the witcher go away.

Their eyes were complex, with fear, hatred, and a hint of schadenfreude, as if some kind of catastrophe was about to befall the witcher.

"You go first?" Oaks, who was originally aggressive, suddenly hesitated and stopped moving forward.

"My brother, it's better for you to ask first, you don't always like to charge at the forefront." Serrit said humbly.

But there was no room for the two of them to talk nonsense any more. Phryus picked up the bloody package and walked over with great strides.

...

In the center of the open space behind the village, stands a half-human-high stone altar. This primitive and rough altar has endured countless sacrifices of flesh and blood. The surface is covered with dried blood and scarlet palm prints. Dyed brown.

The owl put the werewolf's head on it, fresh blood seeped into the altar, and a strange wind suddenly blew from the place. The wind was mixed with invisible magic, which caused the pendants between the three of them to tremble slightly.

The three witchers couldn't help but take a step back, instinctively pressing down on the hilt of the sword, forming a seal.

Following their movements, a loud noise suddenly sounded in the air. The sound was strange and varied, filled with long sighs of women, roars of lions, wolves, and bears, as well as countless childlike clear voices, intertwined. into a whisper in the shadows.

Finally, the footsteps landed, behind the witcher.

The footsteps were pounding, extremely heavy, and the ground shook. Reminds me of a giant, and some kind of behemoth!

The witcher turned around quickly, and the snake sent the silver sword pointed directly behind him—three figures suddenly appeared in the field of vision.

"Shit, son of a bitch, shit!"

"Father of the sky, Meritelli, Eternal Fire, whatever messed up gods it is, open your eyes and see!"

"How can there be such an ugly thing in the world?!"

The beautiful fantasy of the Oaks brothers was shattered in an instant, and the huge psychological gap even made them pursed their lips, producing a retching that was not so strong for half a second.

This physiological response is almost unimaginable for witchers who often deal with disgusting creatures such as carrion eaters and evil spirits.

"Young man, put down your swords!" An old and ugly woman's voice sounded, which was exactly the same as the ugly and evil old witch who was hiding in the forest, in the ditch, in the imagination of ordinary people!

Oaks, as if afraid of being burned by her ugly eyes, squinted at each other.

The one who spoke first was the weaving woman among the three sisters.

She stood hunched over on the far right, most of her body shrouded in a dark brown fabric that looked like a canvas or a rag, revealing only a pair of fat four-fingered "chicken feet" and two surprisingly large foot.

A red high-pointed hat covered most of her head, the lower half of her face was covered with a brown eye patch woven with hair on her right eye, and her left eye was a sarcoma covered with seven-star ladybug spots. I don't know what organ she uses to see things.

Her nose, a red nose as sharp and long as a crow's beak, a lip that was bloodless and cracked dry.

The strangest thing is that the fabric of her abdomen reveals a pair of small childish legs, which sway lightly from side to side with the frequency of her breathing, like ornaments.

"They themselves look more handsome..." The other lady in the center took over the words of Zhipo and said in a loud voice.

As the cooking woman among the three sisters, she has the fattest body. Her sturdy arms must be able to swing the stirring spoon in the big iron pot with great ease. Bulging like a cauldron and half taller than ordinary people, all this makes her look like a moving mountain of meat.

Her whole body was covered with fat. In fact, replacing the boil in her name with "pig" could better describe her image - a fat pig standing upright.

Instead of hunched over and hunched over like her sisters, she put her hands on her hips and held her head high.

Perhaps because her face was too shocking, she completely covered her face with a straw woven cage.

"I like the one in the middle, his appearance is most in line with my aesthetic." The whisperer on the far left raised his head to Oaks.

Her face, in the style of a cooking woman, was covered by a reddish-brown gauze.

Her figure... um... she is a combination of two sisters, with a medium stature with a hunchback and a chest, her muscles are quite developed, and her posture is quite like an ostrich and a kangaroo. Her exposed skin was pale and wrinkled, full of sarcomas and chickenpox-like bumps, and it was disgusting.

However, what attracted her most attention was a huge cloth bag hanging around her waist. The surface of the bag was dirty and covered with blood, and a child's arm was exposed.

The rotten smell of the gorilla attracted a bunch of flies, circling buzzing around the woven bag.

"Ahem...Mrs. Forest...Thank you for your compliments," Oaks suppressed the storm in his heart, retracted his blade slightly, and said as calmly as possible, "You guys are not quite the same as in the oil painting."

"Witcher, the portrait is not a deception, that's what we looked like when we were young... At that time, we liked to live with a strong and handsome young man like you the most." The murmuring woman smiled strangely, "It's a pity that Willen is this The land is filled with so much malice and negativity that are more destructive than the most poisonous poisons, and they keep corrupting our bodies and making us so old."

"The lady in the forest... The villagers of Lower Valen, and the whole of Valen praise your credibility." Phrius interrupted the old witch's words in a deep voice at this time. An ugly inhuman flirtation, "Now that we've made the sacrifice as promised, it's your turn to fulfill your promise... Give Carl back to me."

"That's right, we have always kept our promises..." Zhipo grabbed her chicken-claw-like palm into the air and said, "The poor child you mentioned was as thin as a bamboo pole when you first came, and he was tired. I'm afraid, I can't even stand."

"We took care of him as much as possible during this time..." The Whisperer spread her hands, shrugged, and said innocently,

"Take him as his own son..." The cooking woman added.

"It's a pity that he's not obedient at all, and he tried to slip away from our eyes several times..." Zhipo sighed, "This time I've hurt him in vain."

"Then where is he? Why didn't you bring him here?" Phrius said through gritted teeth, the blue veins on his face abruptly, and the hand gripping the hilt became stronger.

"Don't get excited, Witcher, we haven't hurt a hair on him, he's staying in a very safe place... well fed and warm." The Whisperer played with the little hand in the cloth bag. "Just now, Raven Spirit sent him to the house of the village chief of Lower Valen, waiting for a few..."

After hearing this, Ferius couldn't wait to leave.

"Don't rush to go, why don't you listen to our other suggestion?" The cooking woman walked to the altar, brought up the bloody wolf head, leaned in and sniffed, and said intoxicated,

"The sacrifices you brought are perfect, with plenty of magic power, and besides..." Boiler paused, "He is still tainted with the madness of the Whispering Hills, you entered that forbidden area, right, witcher? "

"So what?" The three witchers stood side by side, horns at each other,

"In Whispering Hill, did you find a huge tree heart..." Zhipo stretched out her claws toward the void, observed the witcher's expression, and said, "I want to invite you to return to Whispering Hills, get rid of that thing for us."

"Is this a commission?" Oaks sarcastically said, "Or do you want to kidnap another member and threaten us to do business?"

"We'll pay you enough, witcher..." The Whisperer explained, "It was a test to do that at first."

Weaver said, "Not all witchers are willing to engage with beings like us, at least we're off to a good start, and we've kept our promises, haven't we?"

"As long as you are willing to lend a helping hand..." Boiler scratched her bloated body, "We will let everyone understand that there are some precious treasures in this barren land of Willen, and using them as a reward is enough to satisfy a few people. satisfy."

...

The three witchers exchanged glances. Just last night, the heart of the tree had been taken away by the young people of the school, but the natural anger of Whispering Hill still did not stop, so the lady in the forest did not realize this fact.

"We need more detailed information about the entrustment of Whispering Hill, what exactly is the heart of the tree, and what does it have to do with her?" Oaks' expression moved slightly, pretending to be interested, "In addition, Foley Erth has to pick up the kid, they have to leave Willen first..."

"When you said that, I suddenly remembered something," the Whisperer demanded. "Witcher, where have your two companions gone?"

"They've left Willen..." Oakes said with a smile, biting his head. "Not all witchers are used to collective action."

"Really?" The Whisperer lowered her head and felt it for a moment in silence. She didn't have any useful information from the eyes and ears that had been planted all over Willen, so she no longer doubted.

And Oaks breathed a sigh of relief and thought to himself, "Roy, Leto, I can only delay this time for you..."

...

More than ten miles to the west of Lower Valen, two witchers smeared with the blood of the heart of the tree came to Bald Mountain. They moved silently on tiptoe like cats, avoiding the forest. Madam Zhong's priest and mountain guard set foot on the stone road leading to the top of the mountain.