"How did you find me?"

"Someone is watching your every move, and I happen to know that person well." The old drunkard replied nonchalantly, "You've finished drinking the wine too, I'm leaving." This time you drank another jar of wine from me, and I have already paid off what I owe old Baranduk. ”

The name of his father in the darkness shone vividly and strongly into Estheu's hearing, and he sat up with a stirring spirit: "What do you owe my father? ”

"Just a few glasses of wine, you were young then." The old drunkard stood up and pretended to pat the ashes on his buttocks, "This jar of wine is the last drink tonight." He groped his way out of the tent, and as he stepped over Essiu, the latter coldly reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. What are you pulling and pulling? The old drunkard impatiently stretched out his right hand and tried to slap Essiu away, but he didn't expect Eshugh to clasp his wrist. The old drunkard soon felt the strong oppressive force coming from his wrist, as if he had fallen into the bloody jaw of a fierce beast. Together, Estheu's five fingers pressed toward his wrist bone, like sharp teeth closing up and down, tightly locking his wrist in the palm of his hand.

"I still have a few questions," Eshua tugged at the old drunkard's hand, using the other party as a point of strength, and slowly pulled himself up from the ground, "Don't go until you can't tell." He stared straight at the old drunkard's face, trying to use his gaze to outline the nonchalant features of a middle-aged man in the blurred outline.

There was a brief silence in the tent, and the two men looked at each other in silence in the darkness, like two facing each other, and a rushing undercurrent rushed under the mountain. The old drunkard was still trying to break free from Eshy's grip, and Eshu was constantly putting more pressure on the old drunkard's wrist. When the two forces are strangled together, they convey to each other the will of both sides - no one will choose to give in.

"Heh," the old drunkard's disapproving laughter seemed particularly harsh in the oppressive atmosphere, "then it depends on whether you break the spirit of the casserole and ask the truth." As soon as he finished speaking, he took a step forward and slammed into Essho's arms fiercely, as his shoulders swept a concise and crisp arc into Essho's heart. But at this moment, Estheu's counterattack also arrived, the same shoulder sweep, an almost symmetrical trajectory, and the exact same landing point, the heart of the old drunkard, like the echo of the valley that suddenly turned back in front of him. Two arcs in no particular order resonate in the air to create a graceful ellipse. Both Esseur's and the old drunkard's bodies shook violently under the force of the blow, but no one lost their balance, and no one gave up, and Eshy's hand was still tightly clasped on the old drunkard's wrist. This is just a clarion call for a charge, and a signal of parity, and the real fight has just begun.

The undercurrent broke through the mountain suppression, roaring silently in the limited space of the tent. The two scuffled together, like two lions biting each other, and the sound of fists clashing to flesh was as low as a dull drumbeat. There's no room for manoeuvre from close distance, and even stretching out their arms to unleash an uppercut is a luxury, with both men leaning on their knees, elbows, and shoulders to rain down on each other. Maybe it was because they didn't want to make too much noise, and the movements of both sides were very restrained at first, but with the accumulation of pain, the fire was also ignited unconsciously, and gradually there was no scruple about making a move. Both began to pour their brute force at each other with impunity, without thinking about the possible consequences. But still no one has the upper hand in a more intense fist and kick conversation. The movements of the two are mirror-like, and even the style is generally fierce and fierce. The old drunkard single-handedly created Essho, and his close-quarters shorts are also Essho's close-knit shorts, and the two are not equal in terms of skills, only relying on the purest and most extreme violence to break and crush this weird mirror balance!

Pandeguwu: Hainafa!

The two of them took a step back in unison, widening the distance, their left hands still twisted together to contain each other, but their right hands had been raised to the back of their heads, clenched into fists, and the unparalleled power gathered in the palms. At this moment, the sound of breathing is surging, like the tide of the sea! The air inside the tent was greedily divided between the two gluttons, and the huge amount of air lost formed a vacuum for a moment, and the roof of the tent collapsed, and then the night wind broke through the curtain, forming a restless turbulence between the two.

But no one threw the decisive punch, and once again the two men showed perfect self-restraint like mirror images. Eshua pursed his lips tightly and glared at the old drunkard indifferently, the air drumming in his chest, waiting for the moment when the mountains were overwhelming.

"What? Do you really want to swing it? The old drunkard could still speak in a good time, "If we fight with the Hainafa, this tent will be torn in half at once, right?" Then you won't be able to—" His last words were drowned in a violent fist wind, and Eshu swung his fist at this moment! A blazing white mist erupted from his mouth and nose, like a wild erupting volcano! At this moment, he completely penetrated the mirror balance, and unreasonably took the balance of victory into his arms!

The old drunkard had no idea of Estheu's decision, and he threw his fist in hindsight. But two steps away, Eshy's fist had already grabbed a step and a half, and was the first to invade in front of him. The old drunkard could only try to match his fist with his fist in the last half step. But just as the two fists were about to collide, Eshua suddenly avoided the old drunkard's edge lightly, opened his five fingers, turned his fist into a palm, intercepted the old drunkard's wrist, and then twisted it clockwise. The force that had been hastily activated was out of control under the deliberate guidance of Esher, and the old drunkard's offensive was broken up in an instant, and he unconsciously twisted his body with Eshu's strength. Estheu easily grabbed his arm and then slammed him to the ground.

A mountain collapsed. At this moment, the dust settled, and the frozen ground under the old drunkard cracked, and the earth was digesting the impact of the two of them in a unique way. The old drunkard's face sank deep into the ground, and there was still a muffled voice rising from the crack in the ground: "Hmph, good performance. Then you ask, there is something to say, there is a fart. ”

"What the hell is going on with the Sons of Prophecy, and Madigan?" Essho still shaved the old drunkard's arm back, "Did he design everything?" ”

"Hahahaha..." The old drunkard's uncontrollable laughter buzzed between the cracks in the ground, and his body trembled with the laughter. When the laughter stopped, he raised his head, took a few big breaths of air, and said with a slight gasp, "Who does he think he is?" Or who do you think he is? Design everything? Madigan is nothing more than a bard who writes knights for a living, and his body has been burned to ashes for nearly half a century, what design does he rely on? ”

"Then why do they all say that I am the Child of Prophecy?"

"Madigan says that somebody will do something, and you happen to do those things, so you're a child of prophecy – or somebody thinks of you as a child of prophecy. Even if Madigan hadn't appeared, wouldn't Marius have cleaned up the nobility of Old Pande? You're not going to kill Ned Grace? Won't you burn Fieldsway's grain and grass? Won't you come to Poynbru? The old drunkard sneered disdainfully, "Are you making a fuss about this?" Don't tell me it's for ridiculously naïve reasons like 'I don't like people controlling my destiny'. ”

"What about the gods who appeared in my dreams?" Not wanting to engage in a verbal argument with the old drunkard, Eshu quickly moved on to the next question, "The goddess of order, Yunomia, said that I was the chosen one, and Urvet, the god of archers, who also appeared in my dreams tonight. ”

"You'll have to ask Brochette, his theory of divinity and divine power is a bit of a doorway and can be answered more clearly. And I've never bothered to bother with that little between the gods. The old drunkard said impatiently, and he began to struggle and writhe again, "Let me go without any other problems." ”

Estheu wordlessly let go of his hand. The old drunkard turned over and stood up, patting the slag on his body: "Have you asked clearly?" ”

"Is there anything else you have to say?" Estheu asked coldly.

"No," the old drunkard said, "then I'll go." Really, you have to be beaten to pay off your debts, what kind of world is ......" he scolded and opened the curtain and went out.