There were no elaborate mechanisms, no special passwords, just like opening a normal door, Gonzalez took the ring of the iron door, and after turning and pulling, the door opened silently.

Immediately, a cool wind blew in from outside the door, with fresh vitality, with the slight coolness of midnight, and with a wisp of familiar wine.

The flame of the bronze torch has been extinguished, but the light of a candle is enough to illuminate the vision.

Moriarty stood inside the door, looking out of the door, as if stunned, and then a little stunned.

It turned out that after a long and strange journey underneath, the mysterious exit that I finally came to was Roland Bar.

For a moment, Moriarty felt a very real sense of unreality. It's as if the strange experiences of the past few hours were nothing more than drunken hallucinations, and the real self has never left.

However, the reality is different after all. Because at this moment, Moriarty did not sit outside the bar anymore, but stood inside the bar.

It was early in the morning, and according to the old rules of the bar, Roland's customers had already dispersed.

In the hall, all the round tables have been stripped of their tablecloths, revealing a black, clean wooden top. Hundreds of chairs were flipped over one by one and buckled upside down on the table, like newly planted leeks, with their legs high up.

Only a table in the corner of the hall was not cleaned up, because there were still people drinking alone by the candlelight.

Hearing the sound of the iron door opening, the lazy figure who was drinking alone slowly stood up from the table and turned to look at the bar. The long red hair, like a waterfall, gently flowed up, reflecting a hazy light in the darkness.

"In the market, what's the problem?" Looking at Gonzalez and Moriarty behind the iron gate, Pagris was surprisingly calm, but continued to slowly turn the small wine glass in her hand and asked, but she didn't know who she was asking.

"A little shaman from Wolfgang sneaked in and got into a fight, but someone was wounded." Gonzalez stepped out of the iron door and gently laid White on his shoulder on the bar as he took a bottle of Rester in his hand, knocked off the cap, and shoved it directly into the wounded's mouth.

"Little shaman?" The red-haired lady gave Gonzalez a strange look as she walked briskly to the bar.

"Well, I'll admit, that's a scepter shaman. He looks very young, but he can summon the 'breath of the god of war'. Hell, the world is getting crazier. As if unable to stand Pagreath's gaze, Gonzalez had to tell the truth, and then couldn't help but complain.

"It's the Frost Thrower... Could it be that there is also an ice giant who is also involved in Krulrod's operation? The red-haired lady ignored her bald head, put her glass aside, and then directly tore White's coat, examined the wound that was still pierced by ice spikes, and frowned.

"It should be a half-orc of ice giant blood, and White blocked the throwing gun in order to protect me." Moriarty stood in the bar, looked at Pagris across from her, and nodded apologetically.

"Puglis, can you handle it?" At this point, Gonzalez removed Rest's bottle from White's mouth, then shoved it into his own mouth, and asked with a puff.

"Is that okay, Pargueris?" Moriarty gently put her hand over White's cold forehead, looked at the red-haired lady, and asked in a deep voice.

"I'll do my best." Pagris glanced at Moriarty, nodded, and then turned to Gonzalez and said, "You send him to the upstairs guest room first, and prepare hot water and silver knives at the same time." In addition, the black market matter cannot be left alone, and if we can find a way to block the genius shaman of Wolfgang in Fort Ford, then we should hopefully make up for our losses. Although, I don't think it's very likely to succeed. ”…,

"Okay, okay, old rules, you take the idea, I'll do it." Hearing the red-haired lady's words, the bald head immediately smiled, nodded in agreement, and then picked White up from the bar, greeted Moriarty, and entered the small narrow door on the other side.

"Thank you, Pugrea." Moriarty watched Gonzalez leave, and finally let out a long breath, his eyes showing exhaustion.

"You should go back to the station of the Dora caravan first. There will be a curfew in a while, and tonight is not destined to be peaceful. Paglisa shook her head slightly, picked up her glass again, and handed it to the other party: "Don't worry, I will do my best to help your companion." ”

"Thank you." Moriarty took the glass with a faint red lip print on the rim, took a deep breath, drank the remnants of the wine, and then walked out of the bar, past Pagris's side, and left the Roland Bar.

Passing through the turnstile of Roland's Bar for the third time, Moriarty stepped alone on the streets of the fortress in the early hours of the morning.

In the distance, the lights in the torch market have dimmed. After a long day's work, the merchants finally put away their goods and went to rest for a while.

In order not to cause unnecessary trouble, Moriarty did not make any further stops, and walked directly along the route in his memory, towards the post station at a brisk pace.

In the early hours of the morning, there are almost no pedestrians on the streets, and the shops in the neighborhood are basically closed. Only in the distance was the faint sound of the patrol's untidy leather boots, giving people a certain illusory sense of security.

After about a quarter of an hour, Moriarty arrived at the caravan's garrison without any unexpected trouble along the way.

By this time, all the people of Doro had already fallen asleep. The caravan members had no capital to stay up late or have fun after a tiring day, because when the sun rose again in a few hours, they would be greeted by a long and arduous journey.

In the inn, only an old night watchman was still half-sleepy. Moriarty didn't even bother him, and went straight back to the separate room that had been assigned to him and White for the night.

Gently closing the door, Moriarty sat down on the edge of the low wooden bed. A westerly moonlight shone through a small window above the head of the bed, scattering on Moriarty's body, staining every qiē with a hazy pale.

Moriarty had no sleepiness and no desire to rest. He lowered his head slightly, his hands resting on the rough edge of the bed, his eyes closed.

It's time for reflection and introspection.

I have to say that tonight's series of events is really a heavy blow to Moriarty, but it is also a rare and timely baptism.

Since waking up in this new world, Moriarty's journey has been a little too smooth and smooth. Whether it is to regain the trust of Baron Ensberg, or to deal with the co-optation and challenges of other noble families such as Salk and Royanta, or even to face the attacks of killers, Moriarty can deal with them one by one and solve the problem with a near-perfect attitude.

In the eyes of others, it seems that no accident or twist or turn can affect Moriarty. Even if he finally had to leave the Ivy Garden, or would eventually lose the inheritance of the family, Moriarty's gaze was always calm and calm.

But tonight, Shaman Beamon from Krulrod gave Moriarty a "valuable lesson."

This lesson made the heart, which had gradually swelled unconsciously, shrink back again and become firm; This lesson made Moriarty really remember the meaning of "prudence" and "humility", although he had always reminded himself of this before; This lesson made Moriarty completely understand that until he mastered enough power, he was just a delicate seedling, and in this world where dragons and demons coexisted, there were too many beings who could destroy him lightly. …,

Although, the magical crystal book and the extraordinary magical talent can indeed lead to an infinite future for Moriarty. But at the moment, he really has no reason or capital to be arrogant or complacent.

Imagine that without White's sacrifice of his life, Moriarty would have been nothing at this time.

For the next few hours, Moriarty spent the hours in memory and reflection. Even the sound of fierce clashes and loud explosions that came from the window at one point paid no heed. It wasn't until the sun rose again that it seemed to be calm again, until Steward Franklin knocked on the door.

Changing into a new robe, Moriarty opened the door for Franklin. But the steward did not come in, but stood at the door.

"Are you leaving?" Moriarty's eyes looked a little tired red and swollen, but they were as deep as a well.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Morty. It looked like our trip was going to be delayed. Franklin said with some embarrassment: "Just now the commander of the army came to inform him that martial law will be imposed on Fort Ford from this morning. No one or any caravan is allowed to enter or leave the fortress until special permission is obtained. ”

"Did something happen?" Moriarty glanced at the caravan steward suspiciously.

"It's not clear." Franklin shook his head, cautiously not commenting.

"It's okay, I'm not in such a hurry to get to Bracada anyway." Moriarty nodded, "We'll just be patient." ”

"Thank you very much for your understanding, Mr. Morty. Then I'll quit first. I'll be sure to let you know as soon as there's any new news. Seeing that Moriarty did not have any complaints or complaints, Franklin's expression immediately relaxed, and then he left directly.

Because the entire trip was delayed by the sudden blockade of Fort Ford, there were many extra things in the caravan that the steward needed to adjust and arrange one by one. After all, an extra day of useless stay means a loss of profit. As the leader and leader of this team, Franklin naturally had to do everything he could to reduce costs and recover losses.