The tavernkeeper looked at Fred Arnold the witcher with a puzzled but heavy expression, "Are you serious?"

The demon is just a legend, and the Hinterland Continent is a demon joke, in the boss's decades of adventures, he has only heard of the mistaken demonic beast, and has never seen the shadow of the demon. But looking at the face of the witcher Fred Arnold, this look doesn't seem to be fake, is there really a demon

"Hmm," said Fred Arnold, the witcher, whose expression was so heavy that he was about to drip water, and there could be no mistake with the ominous smell coming from it. He has been trained to hunt demons since he was a child, and this time he finally has a place to go.

Although he didn't know which demon did it, the only thing he knew for sure was that it wasn't Diabo's.

Diablo

Clenched fists, fists oozing blood. But the demon hunter Fred Arnold stared at the injured person infected by the black substance with a complicated expression, and finally waited for the demon to appear, but unfortunately, it was not Diablo who appeared.

"What"

The tavernkeeper was confused, and Fred Arnold looked a little strange, and it took him a long time to say a name he had never heard before. Well, this is the guy called Diablo who did it

The boss breathed a sigh of relief, as long as it wasn't Sean's doing. It doesn't matter if he is Diablo or his younger brother Pineapple, if Sean really did such a thing, how can he explain Sean's identity after the battle with the Badlands.

The boss couldn't help but sigh, the best chance to explain Sean's identity was long gone. That damn Hank, if he hadn't been troubled, he would have been able to convince Erwin and Lothar to clarify Sean's identity at the party, after all, Sean was washing dishes in his tavern when he first came to the battlefield, when he was still a newcomer.

"I don't know which demon did it, but I'm sure that's what the demon did, you see."

As he spoke, the witcher's hand reached for the wounded man who was leaning against the door.

"Don't"

Fred Arnold the Witcher didn't listen to him, the tavern owner covered his eyes, can this black substance be touched at will, it's over, it's time to isolate Fred Arnold.

Next, the tavernkeeper couldn't believe what he saw, the black substance that corroded and polluted everything, and retreated at the touch of the witcher. Wherever his hand touched, the black substance kept holding back, as if this hand was their greatest natural enemy, and as long as they touched it, they would dissipate into heaven and earth.

Until the black substance is densely recorded at the door of the wounded's head, constantly wriggling, as if roaring, warning the frightened hand to stay away from them, they are super fierce, whining

"Unbelievable"

The tavern keeper had seen Erwin cautiously afraid to touch it, for fear of being contaminated with a dead black substance, but when it came to the witcher, the black substance seemed extremely frightened, and ordinary mice met cats.

Seeing this, the tavern owner couldn't hold back his hand, this gadget was quite scary, and he wanted to try it. Reach out and touch the nearest wounded.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't do anything, I just want to touch it, I see that it's okay if you touch it, I'll just"

"You" The witcher was afraid of losing the tavern dad's hand, could he touch this thing casually, fortunately he saw the boss's movements, otherwise he would have to be ruthless and humane to destroy the tavern owner.

Who did he think he was, if he was a paladin who dealt with demons or if he was a professional witcher like himself

The tavernkeeper's face was embarrassed, no, seeing the witcher touching the wounded, there was nothing to do, so he just wanted to check the situation of the wounded. The point is, the black substance seems to be life-like, as long as the witcher touches it, they

will get out of the way, never next to each other.

Seeing that the tavern owner was not convinced, the witcher picked up a wooden stick and threw it at one of the wounded.

In an instant, the tavernkeeper's eyes widened, and he saw that the wooden stick smashed on the wounded man, who had recovered a lot of skin color, but the moment the wooden stick touched the wounded.

The black substance concentrated at the door of the wounded's head resembles a mad dog, dyeing the sticks their color.

The tavernkeeper's mouth was wide open, and he couldn't find a word, and these guys would show weakness to the enemy. Maybe I'm afraid of Fred Arnold is real, but there is a self here besides Fred Arnold.

Almost, is he about to be humanely destroyed?

My heart was beating uncontrollably, as if it was about to jump to my throat.

The tavern owner looked at his hand, glad he hadn't touched it, and if he had been infected, he probably wouldn't have been able to imagine the day when he would return to his son.

Frightened, he patted his throbbing chest, looked at the witcher gratefully, and said "thank you".

The witcher waved his hand and looked at everything in the room.

The black substance had contaminated all the beds where the wounded had been lying, but they did not want to infect an inch of land, and they touched it gently, but they were afraid to withdraw their tentacles.

Fred Arnold grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the wounded.

Hula-hu-la-hu, dodgy black mass stained the dirt like boiling magma.

Thinking that these black substances were afraid of dirt, Fred Arnold was a little puzzled, if the devil did it, why would he be afraid of small dirt.

Before he could figure it out, the black matter seemed to have adapted to the existence of the soil, assimilating the soil into a part of it, visible to the naked eye, and the number became more and more numerous.

Thankfully, although these black substances have adapted to the soil, they still dare not touch the soil.

If this thing can be polluted unchecked, I'm afraid no one in the camp will be spared, except for Fred Arnold, the witcher.

Just declare victory over the Wastelands, no, declare victory over the demon who suddenly stepped in.

Fred Arnold, the witcher, tried to heal the wounded by touch.

Whenever he touched the wounded, the black substance was like a sheep meeting a wolf, huddled together, and gathered into a large dot on the wounded's forehead.

But when he touched another wounded person, a black substance that was not threatening would quickly spread all over the wounded person's body.

As a result, the witcher Fred Arnold has never been able to expel the black substance from any of the wounded.

That is, he keeps kneading the black substance that gathers into a little bit, and the hand feels like clay mixed with water.

The black substance was still kneaded by Fred Arnold, anyway, it was lying on the wounded, even if Fred Arnold stretched the black substance for five or six meters like pulling an Avery cheese, he would not see it break.

The so-called Avery cheese is a famous local specialty cheese that the witchers ate in Caldum. Avery cheese is known for its stretching properties, and any pastry baked with this cheese can be broken in half to create long lines of cheese. Needless to say, the taste is delicious

Fred Arnold, the witcher, looked at the stretchy black substance like Avery cheese, but he didn't have the slightest appetite.

He had no choice but to leave the room with the tavern keeper and sprinkle the doors, windows, and surroundings of the witcher's special holy water to prevent the black substance inside from sneaking out, and to prevent someone from bringing it out.

I didn't expect that so many things would happen in the time I had only played a few Gwent cards, and I knew that this would be the case, so I wouldn't have been drinking all night.

"Where are these people infected?"

Fred Arnold asked.

"Near the river, it should be in that deep valley."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Where to go"

"Of course I'm going to hunt demons, after all," the witcher put on his hood and hung a longbow from his back, "I'm a witcher, a demon hunter. ”

The witcher asked the tavernkeeper if he wanted to see where the demon had appeared.

When the tavern owner heard this, he wanted to go and didn't want to go, and the two thoughts kept fighting in his mind. Looking into the eyes of the witcher, he decided, "Walk"

A man came running and interrupted Fred Arnold, the witcher, and the tavernkeep, who were checking their equipment.

"Huhuhu, you're here, I've been looking for you for a long time."

"What's the matter?"

Fred Arnold, the witcher, was thinking about a clue about this black substance, trying to remember what he had learned about demons, and what kind of demon this black substance was related to, when a middle-aged man ran over panting.

"Needless to say, of course this is it."

There was indescribable joy on the man's face, and he took out a thick card from his pocket, his eyes full of battle.

Fred Arnold, the witcher, reacted at this time, isn't this the middle-aged man who fought with him all night.

There is no metaphor for fighting here, the witcher Fred Arnold looked at the deck in the middle-aged man's hand, this deck is not any of the cards that the middle-aged man used last night, isn't this his natal deck squirrel party

The witcher paused, remembering the number of victories he had won last night.

Wait a minute

One, two, three

"I'm on a 73-game winning streak"

Fred Arnold, the witcher, asked the middle-aged man uncertainly.

"Mmmm, don't worry about it so much, this time, I don't believe that my treasured squirrel party can't solve you"

The middle-aged man had two big dark circles under his eyes, but his tone was very confident, and it seemed that he had to take out his last hole card after losing all night last night.

Seventy-three in a row, seventy-three in a row

Fred Arnold, the witcher, suddenly thought that he had reached the biggest winning streak in the history of the witcher.

Flip through the small notebook and make sure you're not mistaken. This little book is a must-have for every witcher who wants to hit the longest winning streak, and every victory must be recorded, even who the opponent is, and the process of victory must be recorded in detail.

When someone breaks the record, they can return to the Witcher's headquarters to register, and when they are verified, they will be crowned with supreme glory.

"When are we leaving?"

Seeing that the witcher was silent for some reason, the tavern owner had to remind him to hurry up.

"Now."

"Oh, okay."

"No, no, no, I mean," Fred Arnold the Witcher pulled out a deck of cards and smiled, "What's going to stop the Witcher from playing a game of Gwent." ”

Today is the day I, Fred Arnold, break the record.

"Go back, go back, even if it's only half left, he's your belonging."

"What are you doing?"

Akasha watched curiously as Nyvenmore's fingertips glowed, as if a small thing was missing.

"Nothing."

"I can't speak, I don't know why Trixis fell in love with you."

"Hmm"

The world is impermanent, and there is no distinction between good and evil.