Chapter 329 The Revised Branch Line

Along with the scream, the drunkard felt a light behind him, his feet fell back to the ground, and he found the feeling of grip.

Those slippery slates that he had complained about thousands of times on weekdays looked particularly cute at the moment, making him have the urge to kneel on the ground and pray for thanksgiving.

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

With the support of his legs, the drunkard's arms could use more strength. He struggled backwards desperately, but the legs and limbs wrapped around his waist and shoulders seemed to be made of iron, motionless. He could only look at them. The gaping mouth is getting closer and closer to him.

"Don't come here!" He shouted desperately: "Get away!!"

"Well, this should be the bride with a lot of hair."

A young man's voice was faintly heard in his ears, rekindling the flame of hope in the drunkard's heart: "Help! Help! There is a monster!!"

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

The drunkard had no intention of listening to that voice - alcohol burned his spirit and put him in an extremely excited state, with only the thought of 'struggle' filling his mind.

And the young man's voice only reminded him so much.

Immediately.

A white light flashed in front of the drunkard's eyes.

Uh-huh!

The drunkard suddenly realized that his struggle was effective. He felt his upper body light up, and under the force of his feet, he fell backwards. He took a few steps back, and then sat down on the wet stone floor. .

Only then did he come back to his senses and look at the monster again.

I saw that the baby carriage seemed to have been hacked by a sharp weapon, neatly broken into four or five sections, and the infant monster was also cut into pieces along with the body. Several skinny jointed limbs were scattered around randomly, and the light green blood was all over the place. The ground looked like burned wax.

The drunkard trembled, sat on the floor, and took a few steps back.

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

It's a group of white spiders.

They are only the size of a fingernail, covered with fine downy hair, and have a pair of impressive small black eyes. There are so many of them that if you look around, they are densely packed all over the ground, from the door panels of the shops on the inside of the old street to the outside. The railings on the river embankment were like a bag of rice dumped on the road, except that the rice grains were slightly larger and could still move.

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

No, not mountains.

The drunkard looked at it intently for a long time before he realized that it was the shape of a person lying on his side on the ground. As for who that person was, as the little white spiders fled in all directions, the number of them clustered together became smaller and smaller, revealing the shriveled skin and skeleton underneath. The drunkard could easily determine its identity.

It's that beautiful witch.

At this moment, like the baby carriage, she was cut into four or five sections, but there was not a drop of blood on the ground. The spiders crawled out of her severed body.

It was 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. He followed the sound and saw a thin figure standing a few meters away, holding a long sword and covering his body. He was wearing a black robe and a hood, and his face could not be seen clearly.

The drunkard felt that this figure looked familiar.

He shook his head, and most of the alcohol accumulated in his body had evaporated in repeated shocks and cold sweats. The feeling of being tipsy stimulated his thinking, and he quickly recalled that a moment ago, when he When I wanted to take advantage of my drunkenness to rob someone, I once scared away a passerby.

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

"Help...help." The drunkard raised his head, looked at the tall but thin figure, and murmured in a very soft voice. He was really not sure whether the passerby would kill him as a pest.

Seeing that the drunkard had been stupidly staying in place, the man in black robe shook his head, stretched out his hand and touched the sword, and a layer of light black flames ignited on the sword. Then the man swung the sword around, and hundreds of Thousands of tiny fire points fell, like a downpour, hitting the swaddling clothes, the stroller, and the white spiders that fled in all directions.

The squeaking sound of the flames and the painful screams of the spiders were intertwined, like a symphony ringing from the depths of hell, with a hint of relief in the cruelty.

The man in black robe looked at the drunkard again.

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

The drunkard shuddered and immediately came to his senses. He had no time to say thank you, so he rolled and crawled away towards the end of the old street. The dark flames seemed to have a spirit, and not a single strand wrapped around his body. The white morning mist on the old street seemed completely unaware of this brief but fierce conflict, and was still flowing carelessly and slowly on the street.

The black flames quickly engulfed everything.

The man in black robe looked around and was satisfied to find that no other wizards noticed the small conflict under the cover of morning mist. He put away his sword, Shi Shiran turned the corner and quickly disappeared in the old street. deep.

…

…

North Port of Beta Town.

Robert E. Lee, who was in charge of street patrol, walked along Levee Street with a satisfied pace and inspected the surroundings.

The brief but violent black tide at the beginning of the year has become a new topic for the patrol leader to brag about. Even though several months have passed, those past "glorious deeds" still come out of his mouth from time to time and are poured into the new boys of the patrol team. In our children’s minds.

For example, the temporary recruitment of the First University's hunting team; for example, a single person bravely ventured into the Silent Forest to detect the scale of the dark tide and wild hunting, and came back alive; and for example, the famous Ms. Pulitzer's exclusive interview with him.

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

Occasionally when no one was around, he would take out the newspaper and take the trouble to look at the serious and sharp-eyed police officer on the front page.

Just like today.

The morning mist is thick and everything is quiet, which is a good time for self-reflection.

"I should have worn a red tie that day." Robert E. Lee looked at the photo in the newspaper, nodded, and then shook his head, his tone full of regret: "There is also a smile...the corners of his mouth are also curled a little harder, and he should relax a little. Some."

Thinking of this, he looked around, then put his head over the guardrail, facing the calm water, curling his lips, trying to find the right intensity between seriousness and smile.