The Divine Hunter

Laboratory under Temple Island.

The flying lion monster trial has entered a critical stage.

Roy falls into a strange state after contracting the third Silent Virus.

A thick, sticky mist like porridge surged up, and the darkness that could not reach his fingers enveloped him.

He entered a void of no sound and no light.

Hearing, smell, most of the senses have lost their function, and even the existence of hands and feet cannot be felt, and even time has fallen into a standstill.

But his mind was awake, feeling the palpitating nothingness, and an inexplicable panic sprouted, grew strong, and gradually drowned him.

In this boundless nothingness, his consciousness began to fall, fall.

Until a certain moment, he felt a warm touch again, like a mother's hand, slapping his back.

Gentle whispers echoed in the soul.

Like a beacon, illuminating the way for him.

He got rid of the long dream leading to the abyss.

Embark on the path of light.

Rita Ned, in a long black dress, sat beside the operating table, softly holding the witcher's hand, sliding her fingertips over his palm, and speaking in a soft and melodious voice in his ear intermittently , humming a melodious melody from time to time.

Roy's face was very calm. He closed his eyes and didn't move like a deep sleep, but leech-like swollen blood vessels appeared under his skin, with a strange and terrifying appearance.

Occasionally, mountains and rivers bulge between the eyebrows, as if haunted by nightmares.

At this time, the sorceress would gently smooth the folds between his brows for him.

Right at the feet of the two of them, the majestic griffin covered in brown and yellow, licked Roy's face from time to time and let out a heart-shattering wailing, as if feeling the difficult predicament of his master.

"Golfing, don't worry, trust your master, he can get through it, he can do it!"

She seemed to be talking to herself.

...

Surrounded by lush alder bushes,

The peaceful and peaceful home of Gawain.

We welcomed a group of uninvited guests today.

Hundreds of dwarves, armed with hammers, axes, and sharp swords, and a group of slender men like a row of bamboo poles, blocked the gate of the orphanage from left to right.

The butcher with his cockscomb head swaying in the wind and the beggar king with benevolent features stood at the front of the crowd, looking around.

Inside the khaki-painted fence, five natural wooden houses stand next to each other. Although they are not as tall and strong as the houses in the city, they are better than small and delicate.

The colorful childlike graffiti on the wall pictures shines in the sun.

A variety of trinkets hang ingeniously on wooden shelves in the courtyard.

The breeze poured in, the windmill turned non-stop, and the wind chimes tinkled softly.

What a peaceful and peaceful countryside scene.

The empty courtyard was now so clean that no fallen leaves could be found, and the ground was flat, unlike most country trails, muddy, potholes, wet and sticky.

Apparently it took a lot of work to fix.

The two giants nodded. At least in terms of appearance, this orphanage was not bad, and there was no sign of treating orphans harshly.

Looking further, a row of strange wooden stakes stood in the corner of the courtyard. A group of children sat in front of the classroom - a few curiously poked their heads here, and an old-faced witcher wiped the wooden board at the front of the classroom. Erase and write.

The remaining five witchers and collectors stood side by side against the wall, their eyes guarded and vigilant.

Not just the Snake Pie and Cat Pie that the two met last time.

Two more unfamiliar faces.

"Masters, when did your team grow again?" The butcher glanced at Lambert and Aiden with scars on their faces, "I remember last time it wasn't five witchers? They were again. Who?"

"Brothers from Cat Pie..." Lesso put his arms around his chest, glanced at the "rabble crowd" behind them, and said calmly, "The orphanage is short of manpower, so I ask these brothers to come and help."

"You should know that the lifespan of witchers is not inferior to that of the dwarves. Most of them can read and write well, and they are also good at reading and writing. They can not only serve as cultural teachers, but also protect the safety of children. There are many notorious ghost towns around Nuocheng. Human traffickers come and go, we have to guard against it."

"What are the plum blossom stakes and the crossbar hanging from the tree for?" The Beggar King looked at several people with sharp eyes, the cat faction had a bad reputation, and he was even more suspicious, "I have never seen such a thing before. Son, isn't it the torture tool you use to torture your children?"

"A type of exercise machine, usually only found in witcher schools, not common elsewhere," Lesso explained. "Running around them a few times can exercise reflexes, or jump from them one by one. Dodge the pendulum and work on your balance and reflexes."

"Tsk tsk, thank you for coming up with it!" The butcher's eyes flashed with a hint of thought, secretly thinking that the gang should also get such a pair, "Then what are the uses of these five houses."

"From left to right are the toilets that have been built, the kitchen-cum-storage room, the boy's bedroom, the girl's bedroom, and the last one is the classroom, where Vesemir is teaching the children."

Francis looked complicated.

More than 200 people were surrounding Gawain's house, but the witcher gave the orphans a normal class as if nothing had happened.

Not worried at all?

"Are there any other houses in the woods?"

"Sorry, are you disappointed not to have a lab?"

The two giants looked at each other.

"Can you turn around?" The Beggar King made an all-encompassing gesture.

"Anyone please..." said the collector, "but the two eldest brothers had better stay outside. So many people suddenly broke in and the children were so frightened that it would be hard to explain."

"That's right, I was the one who didn't think carefully..." The butcher said angrily towards his subordinates behind him, especially the one closest to him, "Speaking of you, your eyes are like cows, who are you frightening!?"

"It's not that you told us to lose without losing, to maintain our momentum?" A dwarf with a big back and a beer belly muttered, and glanced at the witcher who was half-smiling.

"In a hurry to die? Why don't you get away!"

A group of ferocious dwarves immediately withdrew ten meters away.

The Beggar King also dropped the order, and then continued,

"Since you claim that this is just an ordinary orphanage, let's talk about it, how do you usually arrange life for the children?"

"You're asking the right person," Oaks said boastingly, "We have formulated a strict schedule, and strive to cultivate orphans into talents useful to the whole society!"

"Okay," the witcher shrugged under the bizarre eyes of the two, "try to let them find a good job to support themselves in the future."

"Get up at six o'clock in the morning and exercise."

"The boys are training around the two curious wooden stakes just now; the girls are running around the yard."

"Girls also need to be trained?" The butcher stroked his brown beard.

In fact, most children from ordinary families have no concept of exercise at all.

They manage housework, feed livestock and poultry, and clean up, which is already a hard exercise.

Noble girls might hire teachers to learn swordsmanship and riding.

"No way, children from poor families can't get sick, they must exercise properly to maintain their health." Lambert said with a smile,

"After an hour and a half of exercising, everyone enjoyed breakfast in the yard."

The dwarf interrupted again, his rough and hairy face couldn't hide his suspicious look, "Are you kidding me, preparing breakfast for a group of orphans?"

"The witchers don't abuse children, they won't let them go hungry. After exercising, they must supplement their hunger..." Leto said as he should, "I promise by the reputation of the snake pie, at least when eating In this regard, the Gawain family never treats children badly."

"The standard of food here is higher than that of Eternal Fire's orphanage!" Lambert patted his chest and pushed open the kitchen door.

A large iron pot was placed on an earthy base.

A fat cook in an apron stood in front of the stove stirring the spoon.

The fat ass wiggled and hummed a culinary tune out of tune.

The pot was steaming hot, and the meat, carrots, potatoes and other ingredients were tumbling in the milky white soup. The baskets under the stove were filled with boiled eggs and bread.

There are even fresh lobsters and crabs that have just been caught.

Cleaver moved his rosacea, and the intoxicating aroma of garlic and lemon juice wafted over him, and his stomach grumbled in protest.

He was not embarrassed, and instinctively walked to the iron pot, and stretched out his hand covered with black hair to the plate with crabs.

"Crack!" The fat cook slapped him unceremoniously with a spoon, her eyes staring like copper bells!

The dwarf boss was suddenly burned by the fire and withdrew his furry hands.

"Your Excellency, if you don't have enough breakfast, how about some eggs and bread?" Serrit stood in front of the cook impartially, "Wait until noon, and then eat together. Feel how the children are being 'tortured'? "

"Cough cough, I don't have to eat." The butcher wiped his sweat on the black padded jacket on his stomach, his original stern tone unwittingly weakened a bit, and his attitude softened a bit, "But the food at Gawain's House is really good. , is more generous than what we help the brothers to eat. Does this cost a lot of money?"

"You can't leave your child hungry."

"You guys are so willing?" The Beggar King squinted and glanced at the witchers, "Do you know that we're coming to 'visit' today, so you deliberately put on a good show?"

"Don't jump to conclusions, just keep feeling the feelings."

"Let's go. Look at the bedrooms... the witcher and the boys are in one. The cook and the girls are in one.

"Lord Clifford, please don't show such contemptuous eyes, or I'm afraid I can't help but let your head - kiss your butt!"

"Remember! A witcher is not the same as a pedophile!"

The butcher turned his head shyly.

"After breakfast, the children began to go to class...mainly studying the common northern script until lunchtime..."

Time flies by Letso's narrative.

The butcher and the beggar king listened to the day's schedule at the orphanage.

Sitting on the bench in the yard, his eyes met blankly.

At first, the arrogance of coming to the door to ask for guilt was gone.

The butcher looked at the crowd with extremely strange eyes, as if he was looking at a neuropathy, but also with a bit of admiration.

The voice of reason that echoed in his mind for more than eighty years told him that the witchers were telling the truth—they had never abused orphans, let alone forced them to undergo dangerous human experiments.

Especially seeing those twenty little faces with a healthy flush in their liveliness.

He confirmed it even more.

The Beggar King sighed, "Witcher, Your Excellency the Collector, what do you have to do with the Prophet Rebioda?"

"Why do you ask?"

"If you don't believe in Rebioda, why should you learn to be a saint? Are you hopeless altruists?!" The Beggar King's tone was unbelievable, but surprisingly kind and friendly,

"The life you give these children is better than that of ordinary families in Nuo City."

"What kind of gifted children do you want to train them into? Reserve students at Oxenfurt University?"

The witchers smiled and changed the subject,

"So, Mr. Clifford and Francis, the misunderstanding between us has been eliminated, right? Would you like to talk to the children again, maybe they will give different answers?"

The butcher bowed his head in silence.

"It's unnecessary... Our eyes are not blind, and our brains are not broken." The beggar king circled around the crowd and sighed, "But we made a wrong move, were misled by anonymous information, plus preconceived ideas, we were wronged. everyone."

The witcher didn't care, "That anonymous letter... can you read it to us?"

The Beggar King and the Butcher decisively took out a snow-white letter from their arms.

The five people scrutinized the envelope carefully, "Hmm... the handwriting on the two letters is the same..."

"The witcher and Orlov teamed up at Gawain's house in the suburbs to use orphans for evil experiments..."

"The drugs used include mother's tears, black wort, aconite, belladonna and other highly toxic drugs... The survival rate of the experimenters is only 30%... If they survive, they will be left with physical deformities and brain trauma sequelae."

The witchers' faces gradually became solemn,

"The letter writer is not entirely fabricated... He said several ingredients, and he said a few wrong, more belladonna, aconitum..." Serret muttered softly.

"If you don't take into account the assistance of the caster, the survival rate is amazingly accurate." Lambert rubbed his temples and said with some distress, "He knows witchers specifically."

The collector shook the letter,

"You two, how did you receive the letter in the first place?"

"Half a month ago, an unidentified guy donated a few kronor 'large sums' to a beggar under the overpass, and then asked him to hand over the letter to me..." The Beggar King shook his head, "According to that brother According to the description of the donor, the whole body of the donor is completely covered. The appearance and body shape cannot be seen."

"Two weeks ago, my most trusted subordinate drank too much in the spear cave... After sobering up, there was an extra letter by his side." The butcher said calmly, "The boy thought the situation was urgent after reading the letter, and immediately handed it over to him. Afterwards, I visited His Excellency Francis, unifying opinions, negotiating the end of the peace agreement, and definitely not complicit in the abuse of orphans.”

"But it looks like we've been reckless at the moment. I'm sorry, Masters..." He bent down in shame, his beard dropping to the ground. "We mistakenly listened to the slander and insulted you all, and instead treated you as a beast with no bottom line."

This is the highest form of apology for dwarves.

"Ashamed to say, my eyeliner is all over the streets and alleys of Nuocheng, but no one has seen that guy with his head and tail showing." The Beggar King also bowed apologetically.

"Obviously, the sender of the letter is definitely not an ordinary citizen." Lesso's mouth curved slightly, guessing, "He has certain detection and anti-investigation capabilities, and he has a certain understanding of the group of witchers."

"So you two really don't know Senator Sebastian?"

"Never seen that guy." The two gang bosses shook their heads at the same time.

Lambert made a look at Aiden, who was silently watching, and went into the toilet.

Jurgen and the fat man, who tied the five flowers and put the rag in their mouths, pulled them out.

"Woohoo ... Rao Ming, Master, I was wrong ..." The cheeks that were cooking several times were swollen into a pig's head, and they couldn't see people at all.

But the wailing was full of anger.

With tears streaming down her knees in front of everyone, she kept kowtowing, "Spare me! I will never dare to steal the children of the orphanage, I will never dare!"

"Ugh...don't put us in the toilet!"

"Speak or not?"

"Uuuu... I'm all done!" The fat man raised his head with tears in his eyes, and his tone was so humble that he was about to kiss everyone's boots.

"Then get dressed, then act!"

Aiden closed the tape over his mouth again.

"Let's see. These two guys colluded and planned to steal a child from the orphanage in the last half month... and be captured by us." Serret analyzed, "And the time when the two Your Excellencies received the anonymous letter was also at the same time. A month and a half ago."

"Both incidents are bad for the witcher!"

"It's not a simple coincidence."

"But I don't know them." The Beggar King said seriously, rubbing the golden seal ring.

"I've never seen this son of a bitch before!" The butcher spat, the black-haired big hand slapped the fat man violently, and the man's bruised cheeks were swollen even higher. "Bastard, tell me honestly, did you send this letter to deliberately mislead us!"

"Woooo..."

"This guy is very stubborn, and a story is made up over and over again! But the person who sent the letter must have nothing to do with him!"

"Humph! It doesn't matter who it is, if you dare to show me like this, I won't be called a butcher if I don't cut him into eight pieces, put him in a sack, and sink into the port!"

"Chill, Your Excellency. It's not yet time to vent your anger." Serret made a look at the brother beside him.

They took the two captives back to the toilet again.

"It is imperative that we find the connection between the two incidents."

"I'm sending you letters to throw dirty water on the witcher's head."

"Tear apart the peace agreement reached between the Big Three and us."

"Take a child to--"

"But I don't understand." The beggar Wang Meifeng frowned and interrupted him calmly, "Since the guy behind this fat man has to deal with several masters, why not report your 'crimes' directly to the Church of Eternal Fire and the city council. !"

"Instead of going around the bush and sending anonymous letters to Cliff and me, the two mob bosses? We're not law enforcers."

"First of all, he wants to provoke the relationship between the two of us and leave the witcher helpless."

"Secondly, Eternal Fire is an official organization, and people need to pay attention to evidence to convict people." Serret blurted out, "That's right... evidence!"

"For the sake of safety, give the witcher a fatal blow. He is going to steal the children from the orphanage and concoct a witness! Sit up on our accusation of child abuse."

"At that time, even if it is fake, it will be made real."

"We can't tell what's right, and then we all betray our relatives and lose our reputation!"

"Given the eternal fire—"

"Tattoo...tattoo..."

Suddenly, thunderous footsteps came from the alder forest of Gawain's house.

Everyone in the yard suddenly turned around.

A dense crowd of people appeared not far from the courtyard and quickly approached the school, as if the sea at high tide swept in from all directions.

At least two hundred people.

They were dressed in black with fur hats.

In addition to the unsheathed long sword, a barbed Lamia whip was attached to his waist.

The one in the lead, wearing a tight white shirt, was sickly pale, with red spots on his cheeks, and his eyes reflected metallic luster.

It is the sheriff of Eternal Fire, the head of the temple guards, His Excellency Chapelle!