He rushed so fast that in the blink of an eye he was close to the ghost that was coming at him. Seeing that the two sides were about to collide, Diego made a mistake and staggered with the ghost by a fraction of a second. The shining bayonet sliced through the body of the evil spirit that slammed into the air without hindrance, and the light and the spirit rubbed into a flash of shining light. The spirit could not withstand the scorching of the light, and Diego heard a sharp wail, and then the ghost burst into a sky of sparks with a thud, and the soul flew away.

The tricks used by these evil spirits are not any martial arts at all, they have been tortured by curses and magical energy radiation and almost go crazy, they only know how to instinctively tear and pounce, in fact, they rely more on the advantage of unharmed spirits, if they have a magic or holy light weapon that can hurt them, even a farmer can be one-on-one without falling behind.

Diego swooped through the trees, dodging the swoop of an evil spirit, and with a quick stroke, slicing the evil spirit into a sky of sparks. He shuttled through the night like a faint shadow, and everywhere he passed, the terrible ghost howls continued to sound in the forest, and one ghost after another turned to ashes in the howl.

In the darkness and chaos, Diego is not immune to injury, but even if he is occasionally caught by evil spirits, the sharp pain from the wound cannot be compared with the pain in his heart, and sometimes, he even deliberately meets it without fear of death, exchanging injuries for life, as if only in this way can the painful grief be slightly reduced.

In the night, Diego's eyes became more and more cold, and the killing intent in his heart became stronger and stronger, and the holy light on the bayonet kept shining in the forest, and quietly covered with a faint layer of blood.

During the battle, Diego gradually felt the murderous intent in his chest, accompanied by a violent roar, the anger and hatred that had been suppressed for a day finally broke out violently at this moment, and the more than ten evil spirits chasing behind him were completely shocked by this roar full of killing and destruction, and couldn't help but slow down the speed of the pursuit. I can't help but feel like retreating.

But by this time, it was too late to back down. Diego, full of murderous intent stabbed back with his spear, passing them like swifts, setting off fireworks all the way.

He was immersed in the thrill of killing. Unable to extricate himself, he danced wildly in the forest, and the bayonet brought up one piece of brilliance after another, that was the revenge he wanted, and he vented. Indulging, depraved, the feeling of unrestrained and unrestrained death enchanted him, and he went wild until a pair of huge claws pressed against the body of the musket and pressed him down to a tree.

"Wake up, Diego, it's me, Masrae." Diego felt as if he had heard a familiar voice, and then he saw an elven water bottle glittering with soft moonlight appear in front of him, and across from him, the Night Elf was looking at him with a frightened face, "Elune, Diego, what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Diego thought to himself a little groggy, and in a trance, he vaguely remembered that he was fighting a group of ghosts. "Masrae, why are you here?"

"What's wrong with you?" Seeing that he had recovered his gods, Masrae slowly let go of him and said with some anger. "You went crazy and almost killed me!"

"Crazy?" Diego said with some confusion, and by the soft light of the transparent water bottle filled with water from the moon well, he saw a long, narrow scar on Masrae's face that was bleeding. The Night Elf's fingers glowed greenish, touching the wound, gradually. The wound stopped bleeding and slowly faded, leaving only a scar that was slightly lighter than the surrounding skin.

"What did I do?" Diego said in disbelief, he was surprised that he was actually drawing a knife at his friend, he closed his eyes and searched in his mind, but he really couldn't remember the memory of that time just now!

"Who else?" Masrae said angrily, feeling a palpitation at the thought of Diego's crazy eyes just now. Those eyes that were once pure turned red at that moment, not blood-red from congestion, but crimson like lava, the color of the abyss. As they looked at him, Masrae saw in them their hatred of life, their thirst for blood, their eagerness for killing, and their desire for destruction, but he knew that that it was definitely not Diego's intention, that the young human hunter's heart was pure, that he belonged to the Light, and that he had never felt such a strong passion and vigor, faith in light and hope, from anyone else.

But now, this qiē is gone. Although he didn't know what was going on in Diego's body, Masrae sincerely hoped that this qiē was temporary.

"May Elune watch over his heart." He prayed in his heart.

Diego sat on the ground with some tiredness leaning against the tree, he didn't feel it when he was fighting just now, but now that he came to his senses, he felt that he was tired to death, and his whole body was in pain, as if those large and small wounds had only flare-up now. He couldn't help but hold his forehead and let out a tired **.

"I think you might need this, get a good night's sleep, and you'll be fine." Masrae's voice rang out. Diego looked up in surprise and saw that the Night Elf was carrying a bottle of Long Road Wine, which was an orc spirit, a traveler's favorite, a good thing to relieve fatigue after a drunken experience.

"No, I've already sworn it, Masrae, I won't drink a drop of alcohol until I catch the killer, I need a clear head." Diego refused.

"Hey, I said man, you can't do this, do you know what you've become now?" Masrae shouted angrily, pointing to the sky above him, "I don't think even in the sky, Sophie wouldn't want to see you like this." ”

"I can't do it, Masrae, I really can't, as soon as I close my eyes, I will see her pale face and the sword in her chest, and this qiē is urging me to avenge her!" Diego muttered, his fingers in his hair, tugging at them hard, "She's so cute, who would have the heart to kill such a lovely girl except a demon?" ”

"Then you need to do this all the more," Dimasley advised, and in his impression that no matter how sad things are, they will get better after getting drunk, so he also uses this method to relieve his friends, "You have to pull yourself together, even if it's just for better revenge, you need a good spirit, we may have to go a long way tomorrow, you can't be half-dead." ”

"I think you're right, give it to me, Masrae," Diego was finally moved by what he said, and he took the bottle and took a few gulps. Then, a few minutes later, under the astonished eyes of the elves, he fell to the ground and fell into a deep stupor. The bottle of wine slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, gurgling out of the bottle.

Masrae sighed, picked up the bottle, and took a big sip. He raised his other hand and began to heal Diego's injuries.

"It's going to get better." He seemed to be muttering to himself, and to the sleeping Diego.

In the shadows on the side, the big cat looked at Diego worriedly, wondering why his human friend had become so depressed, it was not a world it could understand. (To be continued.) )