The potion was absorbed, then flowed through the blood vessels throughout the body, and then a strange wave rose from the body.

If there is a special substance in the body, the medicine will pour into it after it takes effect, and then it will bring severe pain.

But now, there is a dull pain in the body, but if you feel it carefully, you can't find it, and the medicine scattered in the body seems to be looking for something.

And so, Roger waited silently, until the feeling was gone, and the pain that Ingmar had spoken of did not appear.

"Am I not the Son?"

Roger stood up and quietly breathed a sigh of relief, he was still a little uneasy when he thought about it, the feeling just now was too special to be in any of the situations that Ingmar described.

Reconfigured a potion, rested for a while, and drank it again.

It didn't take long for the familiar feeling to reappear, but only a little unusual, and only then did Roger completely put his mind at ease.

"Maybe it's because I'm special."

Compared to other demon hunters, Roger has taken too many potions, and his body has been tempered three times, and his internal organs have been modified, so it is understandable that there are some errors.

Ever since he had killed the three of them in front of the hut last time, Roger had been a little worried, and no one wanted a force to be looking for him in the shadows.

"Now I can finally rest assured."

"When you find all the materials, complete the grass trial, and become a real demon hunter, you can really enjoy life."

A boulder in his heart finally fell, and Roger relaxed, and when the time came to noon, he ate a little, and rested for a while, and then he came to the Misty Hut again.

There is no day or night in the foggy world, where the sky is also gray during the day, and when the fog covers the entire space, it is equivalent to nightfall.

After entering, Roger went directly through the iron door on the second floor and came to another safe point, instead of practicing in the cultivation room downstairs, Roger pushed open the door and walked outside.

There is no fog and the time is in the middle of the day here.

The corpses of the monsters he had killed before were all gone, and there was not even any blood left on the ground.

After what happened before, Roger knew that in this strange world, whenever the fog subsided, the remnants of corpses and bloodstains and even destroyed houses would return to their original appearance.

He had a limited range of activities right now, but Roger planned to wander around and get a feel for the environment.

The assimilation process was halted, but many of the rules were changed, and Roger climbed up the roof along the wall and looked around.

A large expanse of compact houses in full view, and in the distance is the core area they once visited.

Roger didn't know much about architecture, but he looked at the style at least nearly a hundred years old, with no obvious modern facilities.

The houses are all made of wood, and although the pavement is paved with bluestone, it is clear that the assimilation is not complete.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, a familiar street appeared in front of him.

"Narcissus Street?"

Roger was slightly stunned and jumped off the roof, just in time to see the street he had seen when he entered the core area from his vantage point.

It's just that he saw the street at the time, and now he is at the end of the street.

Roger walked forward, and due to limited movement, he could only enter the distance of about 10 meters at the end of Narcissus Street.

You can only enter at most one house next to the street.

"Was this place really once a part of the history of Rose Street?"

In the process of assimilation, the alien space will extract reality, but it is not limited to reality, and everything in front of you almost replicates a certain period of Rose Street.

However, it is unknown how much of it has been changed because of the rules.

Intrigued, Roger walked into a house on the left hand side of the street.

An iron plaque hangs at the doorway of the house, with an angular daffodil printed on the left half of the iron row and 42 Narcissus Street written in Menia on the right half.

"Number 42?"

"How the whole street is numbered?"

Roger immediately ran to the other side of the street, and on the opposite door plate, 43 Narcissus Street was inscribed.

He continued to walk forward until his body was blocked by an invisible barrier.

Although it restricts his movements, it does not limit his gaze.

Roger swept across the street, and the angle was so limited that he could only see the numbers on the numbers of a few nearby houses.

"It's sequential."

Look back at the end of the street.

"Where did 48 Narcissus Street go?"

"Is it because of process issues that it wasn't assimilated?"

Roger didn't know what the situation was, he didn't think much about it, and walked directly into 42 Narcissus Street.

This is an ordinary house, the space is narrow, and the height of each floor is very low, which makes people feel very oppressive.

The furnishings in the room are old, without any dust, as if they have been inhabited all along.

Going down the stairs to the second floor, there are separate rooms on both sides of the stairs, and there is nothing unusual on the surface, but for some reason, in the middle of it, Roger always feels that something is not right.

Finding no information, he left from No. 42 and walked into No. 43 opposite.

Room 43 is similar in structure to Room 42, and after a few turns around the room, Roger finally finds the problem.

These two houses have no windows on the side of the street!

This is extremely anomalous, and seems to be deliberately not noticed by people walking on the street about what is happening in the room.

Although a few windows were opened in the other direction, the caliber of the windows was so small that even ordinary adults could not enter.

These tiny windows are scattered across the walls and do not seem to be for the sake of light at all, but more like a pattern of composition.

"At least it proves that the street really exists, and the rest is to find a specific period and find out something."

Roger suddenly thought of something, and quickly walked downstairs, he took the iron plate on the door, and looked closely, there was a string of letters engraved on the stem of the daffodil.

"Stuart."

"Is it the surname of the owner of this street?"

It was a surprise that Roger ran across the street and found the same letter on the door number.

The Stuart family, knowing the name of this family, is much easier to look for next, at least with a general direction.

Roger was rejoicing when he suddenly heard a heavy gasp behind him.

With the sound of gasps, a powerful sense of oppression came from behind.

The hairs on the back of his neck counted down, and Roger slowly turned his head.

More than 30 meters behind him, a huge black figure was slowly approaching.

"That guy is still there?!"

What appeared in front of Roger's eyes was none other than the Demon Bull they had followed all the way as they fled the core area.

One of its eyes had rotted, and it was clear that Henrik's shot had caused it considerable damage.

In addition to this, it is covered in large and small scars.

At this time, Roger was farther away from the hut than the monster, and if he rushed up, he would definitely face a head-on attack from the Demon Bull!

At the same time, a faint mist rose from the side.

Thick fog descends.

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