Not staying in this tent for long, Xia Zuo and Rebecca left.

Holf and Ora have recovered, and the village chief no longer has to make a soup for them.

"Village chief? ... Chief? ”

In thought, the village chief came back to his senses at Ola's call.

"Ahh Well? ”

"I mean, my father and I are now recovering, you don't need to make medicine for us anymore, let's go to the other villagers first and see if there is anything we can do to help."

Ola scratched his head, confused.

But I can see the reason why the village chief is distracted, probably some kind of unwillingness... As the head of a village, the job of helping others was robbed by outsiders in one fell swoop.

Ola can understand this feeling very well, just like his own feelings when he lost to Xia Zuo in the forging competition during the day.

But he chose not to break it, thinking that it was better to digest this matter by himself, and he also admired Xia Zuo very much, he really had him everywhere.

However, it is not a bad thing, excellent people have helped the village substantially, and they need to be aware of their shortcomings and then try to move forward.

"Ah, yes... Then go ahead. The village chief said with a smile.

"If you don't have anything to say," Ora asked, pointing outside.

The village chief shook his head in a nasal laugh.

Ola pursed her lips and planned to leave. As he left, he tugged on the sleeve of Holf's shirt, but the latter was unmoved.

"You go out first, I'll be here in a moment." Horf stared at the village chief, and didn't give a single look to Ola.

Ora raised her eyebrows and walked away.

There were only two dying men left in the tent.

"What, you think I've been hit too?"

"Haha! How can it be! ”

After two seconds of silence, they conversed. Horf stepped forward and gave the village chief a hearty pat on the shoulder, ignoring the fact that he was an old bone with no magical protection.

"The way your son looks at me, that's it..."

"He's still young, what do you know!" Holf waved his hand disdainfully, rubbed his nose a few times, felt that the village chief might be embarrassed, and said slowly: "The guest didn't pay much attention to you, you don't mind this matter, right?" I can see it too. ”

The village chief did not reply, and seemed to acquiesce.

"What's wrong? Can anything unpleasant happen to young people? I really envy you, obviously you're this age. ”

“…… Because I told some lies, he should have seen it, and then he had a grudge. ”

Holf's face changed, and he had some eyebrows.

"Lies... Something about magic? ”

"Yes."

"You're doing this to everybody... And those young people who came to learn magic from you in the past, you always think about the truth, and you don't want to teach magic if you don't think it's necessary, and you don't even shirk it when I ask you for a few more enchanted scrolls. ”

"You know why, Horf, I value that team very much, and I have asked you many times to build weapons, and you still remember their faces." The village chief suddenly became serious, and tears seemed to be in the corners of his eyes, "I don't remember their faces day and night, so clearly...... But because of a ridiculous thing, I became the only survivor of the adventure team......"

That seriousness was Grevald's performance in his most painful moments, and Holf, who had been his friend for many years, knew it well.

Gredveld would not be moved by the words of comfort, of course, that is not what the straight dwarf is good at, and it is better to let him think more about it.

"Hmm... It's inevitable that you'll be at odds with your guests over this," Holf said, turning to lift the curtain and intending to leave, "but the guests aren't like the bastards of Aslan, and that's clear to my dwarven instincts, and I want you to see the good side of the guests... I'm going to help the guys, their craftsmanship, the tents they set up are not decent..."

When Holf stepped out, the draped curtain muffled his voice.

The village chief turned off the stove so that he could close the opening at the top of the tent, which had been used to drain the heat, so that too many mosquitoes would not fly in at night.

He glanced at the staff lying on the ground, and held out his hand, intending to use the magic to drive it back into his hand.

But no matter how hard he tried, the staff didn't move......

I haven't recovered my magic at all.

——————————

The sturdy Apostle Mouse ran across the plains, kicking up clouds of dust that could barely take a cheetah to the speed of a cheetah.

The wild mice and hares that heard the movement raised their heads in alarm, but it was too late, and the apostle rats rushed and broke the dwarf grass in their path, and also broke them.

Dead or seriously injured, innocent rodents lay on the ground on all fours, trembling a few times.

The Apostle Rat can also be injured, but it doesn't care about the pain at all, because it doesn't have the protective physical consciousness that a creature should have, and it only consumes mana to drive itself.

Then it ran into the dense forest again, and this time it judged for itself that it would destroy its body if it hit the tree directly.

It no longer runs in a straight line, but deliberately bypasses those hard, deadly trees.

In order to hide the process of the message, the apostle mouse was very quiet...

"Squeak!" However, it was instantly caught by a green hand of the jungle glimpse.

"Squeak!" The rat became restless as it did not reach the target of the letter.

"Be quiet, be quiet." Pinching its figure, he soothed, "I'm taking you to the king!" ”

Dressed in ranger-like leather armor and carrying a bow and quiver, the dexterous figure sped through the branches of the trees.

The turmoil scatters the leaves of the trees wherever they pass, forming a curtain of fallen leaves that goes straight forward.

Until the figure poured out of the forest sea that seemed to be composed of leaves, and the moonlight illuminated it in mid-air—pointed hats, leather armor... A Goblin Archer.

"Squeak.." The Apostle Rat is still restless, performing a single command of magic, and does not care what the master says to a third party other than the target.

In the midst of the struggle, the Apostle Rat struggled to resist, and with a thud, it bit the goblin archer's jaw.

"Hiss——!" The goblin archer gasped in pain, "You little bug! ”

Enraged, as he fell, he wrenched the neck of the apostle mouse with both hands.

"Huh... Trouble," said the goblin archer, fearful.

Falling into the woods, carrying the tail of the mouse and shaking it from side to side, this little guy should be dead.

The king has an ominous premonition, it should be magic or something... The purpose of sending the goblin archers is to prevent the messenger rat from falling into the hands of the enemy, and it is the mission of the archers to find it in advance and bring it to the king.

And now, it's killed the rats...

And the next scene, scared the eyes of the archers dumbfounded.

The summoning beast's magic failed, and the rats turned into dry earth and scattered to the ground.

"Hell hell...," the archer quickly leaned down, ready to catch the debris, but accidentally noticed a small note falling into his palm, "Huh? ”

And the sediment, which is still sediment, has not been restored.

“... Oh! It snapped its head on the spot.

The Apostle Mouse is just a summoning beast of the shaman, the key is the letter it sends, and he only needs to bring the letter back.