In a deep alley, the shield-armored warrior Soth and the assassin Monroe stood side by side, silently watching the Windranger mercenary group station not far away that was silent without a cluster of fire.

Monroe's face was a little hideous, and he stared at the station, his mouth split, and he smiled silently but happily.

A figure ran over from the side, it was none other than the adventurer of the Fierce Tiger Mercenary Regiment. He whispered to Soth, "Commander, we saw a window open on the second floor of Homer's inn, and someone should have noticed us." ”

Soth pondered for a moment and shook his head: "Forget it, notice it, don't make any more extraneous branches." We should now concentrate on dealing with Andrei's mercenary group. ”

"Teucer, you go get rid of that guy!" Monroe said to the shadow next to him.

The shadow slowly creeped, and the figure of a middle-aged assassin gradually appeared. The middle-aged assassin held two short daggers in his hands, and his body smelled of danger, his face was blank, and he replied indifferently, "Yes." ”

He didn't look at Soth, slowly backing away, blending into the shadows.

Soth frowned and didn't speak. There was a hint of remorse in his expression, he regretted a little that he had cooperated with this madman for a little grudge to besiege Andre's Windranger mercenary group. Whether he succeeds or not, it will be difficult for him to gain a foothold in the town of Windtalker.

Now that he slowly came back to his senses, he faintly felt that something was wrong, it was just that he was pitted with a silver-level weapon, no matter how much Monroe was sure to repay him, he would not be so enthusiastic and lose all his net worth for this. This is clearly the rhythm of preparing for the fish to die and break the net. Monroe seemed to be hiding something from him.

But now the arrow is on the line, and it has to be sent. Monroe's reward made him reluctant to give up. Soth had no choice but to remain silent, watching the clusters of dark shadows running around busily, arranged everywhere, waiting for the moment of attack.

The middle-aged assassin quickly left along the shadow of the alley, and in a short time, a dark shadow had already appeared by the window of Roland's room, and the next moment, his figure flashed, and he jumped into the room.

Roland stood in front of the window, his heart swaying. I just discovered the strange behavior of the Remnant Blade Mercenary Group yesterday, and there were black shadows passing nearby at night, but I didn't expect their purpose to be Andre's Windrunner Mercenary Group. Roland was puzzled as to what had happened in the magical ruins for Monroe to make such a decision.

Suddenly, his surging spiritual power felt a clear sense of danger envelop him, bending and stretching like a poisonous snake, coiling towards the back of his neck, cold and piercing.

He didn't have time to think about it, and quickly pounced to the side. A dagger fell into the window like a meteor in the cold moonlight, and threw it at the place where he had stood.

In the next moment, a black figure folded into the room from outside the window, with a soft body unimaginable to ordinary people. The man stood in the shadows with his dagger in his hand, his shoe on the floor, and did not make a sound.

The middle-aged assassin looked around the small room vigilantly, the power of the "dark" bloodline gave him a certain ability to see at night, his pupils were in a straight line, and everything in the room was in his field of vision.

No one? The middle-aged assassin frowned.

Suddenly, he felt the temperature around him plummet, and a little crystal quickly condensed in front of him, and the crystal slowly rotated in the air, shining in the cold azure of the moonlight.

Before he could react, the bit of crystal quickly expanded, and finally split, the crystal spread, and the frost and the clear light of the moon enveloped the middle-aged assassin's body.

"Ionia's Frost Sigh!" Out of sight, Roland took out his staff, spit out a brief spell silently, and with a gesture, he attacked the middle-aged assassin.

In the confined space, it was impossible for Roland to escape an Assassin's attack. The incident happened suddenly, and he calmly chose to fight back.

The frost covered the skin of the middle-aged assassin, the cold gradually penetrated, the muscles became inactive, and the blood slowly coagulated, the middle-aged assassin was slightly infatuated, he seemed to recall the memories of being unclothed when he was a child, and he was almost frozen to death in the cold winter season.

Not good! The middle-aged Assassin quickly came to his senses. He looked inwardly at himself, the frost attached to the meridians of his body, and the power of his bloodline was faintly suppressed.

His heart moved, and the powerful blood power quickly surged in the meridians, the frost melted, and the injury was suppressed. He walked lightly, his body stiffened a little, but it didn't affect his movement much.

Roland sighed slightly, Ionia's frost sigh is suitable for opponents of the same rank or lower than his own strength, and the illusion makes the opponent gradually lost, and in the frost, the blood is frozen and dies. The middle-aged assassin's bloodline power had reached the seventh rank of the Black Iron Rank, much higher than himself, and this kind of magic had little effect.

He quickly adjusted his mind and unleashed a few magic tricks to cover up the light in the room. Outside is the people of the Remnant Blade Mercenary Group, and in order to avoid becoming the target of public criticism, Roland has to give up the powerful but effective magic of "Maxwell's Meteor".

The shadow squirmed, and the middle-aged assassin suddenly disappeared from Roland's field of vision, and in the next moment, a cold light shone in front of Roland.

Bite! There was a crisp sound, and the dagger struck the ice shield. The ice shield suddenly split apart, and the fragments splattered in all directions, losing the maintenance of spiritual power, and slowly disappeared into the air.

Roland took the opportunity to take two steps back and leaned against the wall. The "Flame Shield of Garris" slowly rises, dispelling the darkness and illuminating the space.

A few steps away, the middle-aged assassin stood silently, the mage's youth and trickiness were somewhat beyond his expectations.

He perked himself up, and his fingers flickered the dagger, which danced on his fingertips like a grim reaper.

At this time, a low, awkward spell sounded in the space, the flame element and the ice element converged and condensed, and a sword of ice and fire that burned with ice and fire all over the body was born out of thin air, and was held in Roland's hand.

Between square inches, it is difficult to move the body, relying on long-range entanglement with the assassins, and there is a dead end. For now, the only way to do this is to fight in close combat.

Ignoring the middle-aged assassin's surprised eyes, Roland took the Sword of Ice and Fire, slashed a flame through the air, and stepped forward.

Roland knew that his melee skills could not be compared with those of middle-aged assassins, so he did not use fancy moves, no moves, no fights, no blocks, relying on the power of his magic sword, the hardness of the shield, and a completely desperate Saburo, exchanging injuries for injuries.

The battle heats up, the flames scorch the air, the ice freezes the space, and the cramped room is hot and cold, no longer balanced.

The middle-aged assassin walked with a nimble step, jumping and waving his double dagger in his hand, the magic sword's dual elemental attack of ice and fire did not dare to try it easily even if it was a black iron high-grade, he parried the attack of the magic sword on the one hand, and on the other hand, with his agility, he took the time to attack Roland.