Hunting College

With that scream, the drunkard felt a lightness behind him, and his feet fell back to the ground, finding the feeling of gripping.

Those wet slippery slates that he complained about thousands of times on weekdays looked very cute at the moment, giving him the urge to crawl on the ground and pray for gratitude.

The premise is that he can survive the mouth of the monster in front of him.

With the support of the legs, the drunkard’s arms can use more strength. He struggles backwards desperately, but the legs around the waist and shoulders are like cast iron, not moving. He can only look at it. Zhang Xuepen's mouth was getting closer and closer to him.

"Don't come here!" he shouted desperately: "Get out of the way!!"

"Well, this should be the bridal couple."

The voice of a young man faintly heard in his ears, causing the drunkard to rekindle the flame of hope: "Help! Help! There are monsters!!!"

"Quiet... then, close your eyes." The young man's voice rang in his ears.

The drunkard had no plan to listen to that voice at all-the alcohol burned his spirit, leaving him in a state of extreme excitement, with only the idea of ​​‘struggle’ in his mind.

And the voice of the young man only reminded that.

Soon.

A white light flashed before the drunkard's eyes.

Huh!

The drunkard suddenly realized that his struggle had worked. He only felt light on his upper body. Under the influence of the strength of his feet, the whole person leaned back hard, clicked, and retreated a few steps, and then sat down on the wet slate floor. .

Only then did he recover and look at the monster again.

I saw that the stroller seemed to have been hacked by a sharp weapon, neatly broken into four or five sections, and the baby monster was also cut into pieces along with the body, a few skinny arthropods scattered around randomly, light green blood overflowed One place, like burnt wax oil.

The drunkard trembling, sat on the ground, and moved back a few steps.

Then he felt something rustling, running around along his fingers, back of hand and arm. The drunkard fought a cold war, slowly lowered his head, and looked over.

It is a group of white spiders.

They are only the size of a fingernail, covered with fine hairs, and they have an impressive pair of small black eyes. They are so numerous that they are densely paved from the door panels of the shops inside the old street to the outside. The railings on the river embankment seemed to be a bag of rice spilled on the road, but the rice grains were slightly larger and still movable.

And just in the middle of the road not far from him, the white spiders were clustered together, undulating, like a small mountain range.

No, not the mountains.

The drunkard looked intently for a while before realizing that it was the shape of a person lying on the ground. As for who that person is, as the white little spiders fled, the number of clustered together became less and less, revealing the shriveled skin and skeleton below, and the alcoholic could easily determine its identity.

It's that pretty witch.

At this moment, she was cut into four or five knots just like the baby carriage, except that there was no drop of blood on the ground. The spiders crawled out of her severed body.

As if those spiders were her blood.

"Stay away." The young man's voice rang in the drunkard's ears again. He couldn't help but shudder. Following the reputation, he saw a thin figure standing a few meters away, carrying a long sword, and covering his body. Black robe, wearing a hood, can't see his face clearly.

The drunkard thought this figure was familiar.

He shook his head, and most of the alcohol deposited in his body had already evaporated in repeated shocks and cold sweats. The slight drowsy feeling stimulated his thinking very well, making him quickly recall that a moment ago, when he I tried to scare away a passerby when I was trying to take advantage of the alcohol.

The passerby was dressed like this, but he didn't carry the long sword in his hand at the time.

"Help...Help." The drunkard raised his head, looked at the tall but thin figure, and muttered with a very low voice. He was really not sure if the passerby would kill him as a pest.

Seeing the drunkard staying stupidly, the black-robed man shook his head and put his hand on the sword. A layer of light black flame ignited on the long sword. Then the man swung the long sword in his hand, and there were hundreds. Thousands of dense fires fell, like pouring rain, on the swaddlings, strollers, and the white spiders that were running away.

The squeaks of the flames and the painful screams of the spiders are intertwined, like a symphony sounding from the depths of hell, with a hint of relief in cruelty.

The black-robed man took another look at the drunkard.

"Aren't you leaving?" His voice seemed curious.

The drunkard shook his spirits and immediately recovered. Before he could thank him, he crawled and fled to the end of the old street. The dark flame seemed to have spirit, and no strands entangled him. The white morning fog on the old street seems to be completely unaware of this brief and intense conflict, and it still flows casually and slowly on the street.

Black Flame quickly swallowed everything.

The black-robed man looked around and found to his satisfaction that under the cover of the morning mist, no other wizard noticed the skirmish, so he put away his sword, Shi Shiran turned the corner of the street, and quickly disappeared into the old street. deep.

...

...

North Port of Beta Town.

Robert Lee, who is in charge of street patrols, walked along Embankment Street, patrolling the surroundings proudly.

The brief and violent black tide at the beginning of the year became a new topic of bragging for the patrol captain. Even though months have passed, those once glorious deeds still popped out of his mouth from time to time and poured into the new patrol guys. In the minds of children.

For example, temporarily recruiting the hunting team of the First University; for example, being alone in the Silent Forest, investigating the scale of the Kuroshio and wild hunting, and returning alive; or for the famous Pulitzer's interview with him. UU Reading www.uukanshu.com

The "Beta Town Post", which used his large bust as the front page, was neatly folded into four squares by the patrol captain, and stuffed in the pocket of his coat so that some strangers could know a real hero at any time.

Occasionally, when there is no one, he would also take out this newspaper and look at the serious and sharp-eyed police officer on the front page.

Just like today.

The morning fog is filled, and the surroundings are quiet, a good time for self-reflection.

"I should wear a red tie that day." Robert Lee looked at the photo in the newspaper, nodded, and shook his head, his tone full of regret: "There is also a smile... the corners of the mouth are also slightly hardened, and should be relaxed a little some."

Thinking of this, he looked around, then put his head over the guardrail, facing the calm water, curling his mouth, trying to find an appropriate strength between seriousness and smile.

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