It was white and foggy.

The hills, the fields, the villages behind the trees, the castles on the hillsides of the villages, and the churches opposite them were all shrouded in white mist, and all the same was true within a radius of ten miles.

The sun had already set, and the last trace of light was swallowed up by the darkness, and overhead, the stars were brilliant, but even so, the darkness was still rampant, basically, five meters away, it was impossible to see the human figure.

However, here, within a radius of ten miles from Rock Village, there is a white mist.

Even at night, the flowing fog is still white in the human eye, as if it has its own light, naturally shielding the darkness from dominating everything.

Fontaine walks through the white mist.

The white mist surged up like boiling water, and they scrambled to roll in both directions, revealing a passageway, like children meeting a vicious teacher who hurriedly got out of the way.

Fontaine was dressed in a gentleman's attire, with straight trousers, and the same were true at the corners of his clothes, and there was no wrinkle on his body.

At this moment, he was wearing a top hat on his head, but not a top hat, but a very ordinary gentleman's hat, a pair of gold-wire glasses pinned to his chest pocket, a cane with exquisite patterns carved on it, and the calfskin leather shoes under his feet stepped on the uneven ground, and there was mud along the way.

He stepped out of the edge of the white mist, and there was a valley.

The stream is like a boundary line, one side of the water is shrouded in white mist, but the other side of the stream is not, the trees are full of trees, swaying in the dark, like a monster lurking in the night trying to catch the night walker devouring it.

There was a fire on the other side of the stream, and there were people waiting on the other side of the stream with torches.

A single-plank bridge lies at the feet of Fontaine, the deck is slippery, I don't know whether it is wet by the splashing stream, or because of the fog, ordinary people walk on it, even if it is daytime, most of them are cautious and frightened, after all, there is turbulence under the feet, there are craggy strange rocks, even if they can get out of danger after falling, it will be very bad.

In this situation, there is no moon, only sparse starlight descending overhead, so forget it.

Fontaine was no ordinary man, and without hesitation, he went up to the single-plank bridge, and walked on the ground as if he were on the ground, and soon he was on the other side of the stream, and walked towards the shaking firelight.

Dinwiddie leaned against the cedar tree, and the torch was set up on the tree.

No one could see his face clearly, he was wrapped in a shroud, layer upon layer, tied, even his head, with only a pair of eyes exposed, which was a very strange dress, a bit like the corpses of the ancestors of the Amurs, who were treated like this when they died, tightly wrapped and put into the tomb.

There was a foul stench all over his body, like the smell of corpses that had not gone away for a long time.

Beside him, there was no one, and he stood there alone.

A black-robed priest stood at the head of the single-plank bridge with a scripture book in his arms, and behind him, a young man in a religious robe held a torch, and the flames shone brightly, stretching the shadows of the two of them up and down.

If Ryan had been here, he would have known the priest.

It was the same ascetic who had met him at his mother's cemetery, Victor Alfonso, whose original name was actually Victor de Alfonso, who had been a count, but who, in his twenties, gave his title to the rest of the Alfonso family, entered the Sanctuary and became an ascetic who offered everything to God.

Seeing Fontaine, he drew a cross on his chest and chanted it in his mouth.

"Almighty Father ......"

Fontaine stopped, five metres from Alfonso.

"Hello, Father!"

He bowed to Alfonso, and then, naturally, spread his arms outstretched.

"Sir, offended ......"

Alfonso said softly with a smile on his face.

As he spoke, the book in his arms was opened, and suddenly, a holy white light shone out from the inner pages of the open book, and the darkness avoided in fear, like a flock of frightened birds.

The white light pierced through the darkness and fell on Fontaine.

This is a procedure that cannot be avoided by anyone who enters the white mist, even if Lord Fontaine is the head of the Iris Orchids Branch.

This is to avoid entering the White Mist Realm and the people become the source of pollution.

Sometimes, the breath of the Secret Realm will be contaminated with the human beings who enter, silently, and cannot be detected, even if you are a powerful transcendent, sometimes it is difficult to dodge, it is simply impossible to prevent it, before, there have been many times, these transcendents who have returned from the Secret Realm have become a source of pollution, spreading the breath of the Evil Realm, forming a huge disaster.

This is also part of the natural disaster.

So, there is the Holy Light that shines.

Don't underestimate this white light, take Alfonso as an example, although, without the holy book in his arms, he has no way to cast this spell at all, even if he has the holy text, with his ability, he can only cast the holy light once a day, if he wants to cast it a few more times, he must cross a threshold and become a red robe, and the entire Sanctuary in Reims City is only a few red robes.

This time, in the face of the disaster in Rock Village, the Templars sent two red robes, whose status was even above Fontaine.

The light fell on Fontaine for a few seconds.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Alfonso closed the scriptures, and at that moment, his originally straight back fell down, and the whole person seemed to have suddenly aged several years, and a smile appeared on his face, revealing a trace of fatigue.

"Sir, all right. ”

At this time, Fontaine opened his legs and walked towards him.

"Sir, did you find out?"

Fontaine shook his head.

Alfonso smiled and didn't speak.

This is a daily routine search, yesterday, it was a red robe who entered, today, it was Fontaine's turn, except for a very few, those other people are not allowed to enter it, the rock village is too dangerous, it is difficult for those who are a little worse to come out, even if they can get out, it is difficult to avoid not being polluted by the breath in the treacherous world.

No ...... found

It's been days, and whoever comes in is the answer after they come out.

What's inside?

As an ascetic, Alfonso's mind was also curious.

Fontaine came to Dinwiddie, a transcendent of the Iris Lance Division, the rank of a two-star detective, he was a subordinate that Fontaine had brought with him from the Northern Empire, and he was more valued by Fontaine than Johnny.

Fontaine entered the white mist, and the intercom that contacted Reims City was also in his hand.

"Is there a situation?"

Lord Fontaine frowned slightly at Dinwiddie's brow.