Hunting College

"Pick up your hat!"

The old voice continued to be uploaded from the puppet man’s top hat, emphasizing it in a commanding tone:

"Faster!"

On the podium, the puppeteer seemed to be a little surprised by the sudden appearance of the sound-of course, compared with the many young wizards below the stage, its surprise was clearly still within the scope of tolerance.

"It's not time for dinner, dear." The puppet's original sharp and piercing voice suddenly became oily, and the tone became much lighter: "You can sleep for a while."

It raised its slender arm, stretched out its palms, and carefully supported both sides of its cheeks. At the same time, its two eyes turned up at a ridiculous angle, trying to look at the brim of the hat protruding from its forehead.

As if it was not wearing a hat, but a bomb on its head.

"Set off! Up! You! The hat!"

The old voice roared and looked abnormally harsh: "You, the wooden frame that the Flobber caterpillar gnawed away, has your head been hollowed out by the insects?! You turned your head so hard that you still have the face to keep me sleeping? !!!"

The puppet raised his long, pointed nose, and his stiff face squeezed out a faint expression.

"I always thought that dizziness would help sleep." His palms were placed on his face again, and his head was taken off his shoulders again, and he held his palms and looked around-God knows what he is using to look at his head- At the same time explained: "In addition, my head is not hollow."

The puppeteer denied it, and added babblingly: "You should know that it is made of elm wood. It is solid. My arms, legs, and head are all made of elm wood. At first they thought the peach wood was too soft and the elderberry was too soft. It’s too hard, the sophora wood is too dark, and I finally made me out of elm wood. I remember mentioning this to you more than once.

"Shut up! You idiot!!"

"Don't call me an idiot, call me "His Royal Highness Puppet"."

"Shut up!! Mouth!!! Stupid!!! Goods!!!"

"If you continue to be so rude, be careful that I use my nose to poke seventeen or eight transparent holes in this hat."

On the podium, the puppeteer is holding his head, as if he is talking about stand-up comedy, cursing and cursing, and you are very happy to say a word.

Under the rostrum, the young wizards looked at each other as they listened to the neurotic wooden man on the stage, wondering whether they should take this opportunity to hit the mask at the door again.

But before that, everyone had reorganized as hunting teams and established defensive formations. Some hunters injured in the riots are also undergoing initial treatment with the help of others.

For a time, the two groups of people on the stage and off the stage went their own way, quite distinct and non-interfering.

Of course, this state of ‘peace’ did not last long.

Under the roar and threat of the old voice, the puppet man quickly compromised and took the top hat off his head.

"You'll regret it... the hunting game hasn't started yet. Now that you come out, besides drooling for a few hours, do you want anything else to gain?" The puppet man muttered, and took the high off. The cap hung on his neck.

Taking off the top hat, the puppet's bare forehead was exposed.

In fact, there is not a single hair on the entire head of the wooden man. The reason why the bald forehead is emphasized is that a large golden high-backed chair stands on the door of his head and further back.

On the chair sat an ugly, fist-sized humanoid.

It is wearing a gorgeous silver robe, leaning on a staff as long as chopsticks, and wearing a gothic wizard peaked hat on its head. The gray beards are piled up in a mess on the face, almost invisible. Clear its facial features.

Compared with the gorgeous makeup of the upper body, its lower body looks much shabby.

No pants, no socks, or even shoes—yes, this fist-sized guy has two shaggy legs with bare hairy toes, letting his bare feet drink northwest wind.

"It's delicious!" The little old man took a deep breath and said with a quack: "Every wisp of passer-by in the air is flowing with a tempting, **** fragrance!"

Weird rhetoric, weird tone, weird appearance, weird dress-this little old man sitting on the head of a puppet reveals a weird, mixed-and-matched atmosphere from the inside out, giving people a kind of Very uncomfortable feeling.

It seems that there is no way to relax in the chair.

The little old man turned over, supported the staff, climbed to the chair with great effort, then opened his arms, looked at the young wizard below the stage, and smiled gloomily:

"Young wizard..."

"Whether you like to play with dead bodies or souls;"

"Or like to sing devil's ballads in a low voice, smearing **** runes on yellow paper;"

"Whether you like the fusion of mithril and gemstones in a spell, the beautiful sound of gurgling bubbles in the cauldron, or the charming fragrance of Manshushawar when it opens."

"It doesn't matter."

"In my garden, you will all find your home!"

"Want a long life?"

"Want to have endless wealth?"

"Want to really stand out?!"

"Go~www.ltnovel.com~Go..."

"They are in my garden!!!"

"Present..."

"Cough!" The puppet coughed violently, interrupting the old man's chanting.

The little old man frowned, raised his furry toes, scratched his messy beard, paused, raised his staff again, and continued to chant: "Offer..."

"Ahem!!" The puppet continued to cough twice.

"Boom! Boom!" The little old man grabbed the staff in his hand and angrily poked the puppet's forehead under the high chair: "Shut up! You elm head! Let me finish! Your grown-up didn't teach you. How do you write the word polite?!!!"

"There are no adults in my house." The puppeteer shrugged and replied very sincerely.

The high hat hung around its neck shook with his shrug, as if it would fall off at any time.

"Will you shut up then?!" The little old man continued to poke the puppet man's forehead with his stick.

"Yes, it will." The tremor from the head last time made the puppet tremble. He had to stretch out **** and grab the staff that the old man was poking frantically: "...but not yet. It’s time for you to ask for a sacrifice."

"It's...I...Fart...thing!!!" The little old man retorted with great effort, and while struggling with the **** of the puppet for the ownership of the staff, it almost had to hang its entire body on the staff.

"Before the secret garden is opened, it is of course nothing to do with your ass." The puppet man rubbed his fingertips, turned the little old man off the staff, and added calmly: "As for the delicacy after entering the secret garden, What you want to do is your business."

After the little old man fell from the staff back to the golden high-backed chair, he shook his head vigorously, and did not relax for a long time.