There will always be some darkness that will be forgotten by history. There is always some light, which will be extinguished by the powerful.

What kind of person have I always been? What kind of person am I now? What kind of world do I live in? How much evil, anger and love is there in this land?

——— Arthur Morgan, the witcher of the Cross Order of the Dawn

"Boss Ducky, the blood slave of the blood farm in front of you, has been cleaned up by John and Mikar."

"Now, it's safe there!"

With two old Holy Salt revolvers inscribed with the Cross of Light on his waist and a slender silver two-handed sword behind his back, Arthur Morgan rode on a nimble white horse and shouted to his boss, Ducky van der Lind, the leader of the Western Witcher Gang.

On either side of him, the dim sun shone on the low bushes of the land, giving the galloping witcher a dark golden edge.

"Very well, my brother!"

This tall middle-aged white man, who was already half-haired, but his eyes revealed stubbornness and unruliness, heard the news, and his face, which had been gloomy and cold for a long time, rarely eased, and he jumped off the black horse with vigor and walked back to the middle of this small horse team of dozens of people quickly.

There, a medium-sized carriage drawn by two horses was guarded by dozens of cowboys carrying silver crossbows and demon hunters.

"Elder Hosea Matthews, the front is safe."

"Now that dusk has come, I plan to spend the night at that blood farm in front of me!"

Facing the eldest elder of this demon hunting order, it was possible that he was the last transcendent inscription master in the western part of the United States of America, even Daqi van der Lind, who was the leader, had to maintain basic respect and asked softly.

"Also, how are your injuries?"

The elder sitting cross-legged in the carriage opened his eyes as he meditated.

"The Holy Salt has cleared me of the dark power."

"Daqi, except for some external injuries that are not worthy of healing with holy power, and there are still obstacles to my movement, there are no more life-threatening injuries!"

Elder Hosea looked at the middle-aged man in front of him and continued calmly.

"I don't recommend resting at the Blood Farm, though."

"Why?"

The Elder's words made Ducky frown, and under normal circumstances, the Sect Elders would not normally refute his decision.

"The attack we have encountered in Dafani State means that the whereabouts of the Order have been leaked!"

"You know, in this time when God is gone and the elemental tides are declining."

"The secret runes I have arranged will expire faster than I imagined."

"Resting on a Blood Farm, if you encounter a real Blood Clan attack, the consequences will be ······"

When he heard the words "True Blood Clan" in Elder Hosea's mouth, Ducky's face changed suddenly.

Thinking back to the true purpose of the Order's expedition, to secure the seal of the largest and last dark cave on the Yinzhou Continent, he finally nodded solemnly.

"Thank you for your teachings, Elder."

"I'll immediately order that the location of the camping area be changed to the forest next to the farm, and make sure nothing goes wrong!"

······

The town of Lodz, a town in the westernmost part of the United States of America, on the border between the slave states of Rokofield and Dafani.

Far from the central city of the state, this large wilderness town with an unusually large population of tens of thousands in this vast and sparsely populated state is ruled by two historic but entangled families, the Gray family and the Blackwhite family.

"Kevin, I really didn't expect you bastard to really dare to come out of Blackwight Manor!"

"Morvenco Gray, you piece of shit!"

"Fxxk, you Blake White crumbs!"

······

In the solemn church in the center of the town, the direct descendants of the two families sat on either side of the prayer chair in the lobby, and lowered their voices to curse the old enemy sitting opposite from time to time.

The real parents of the two parties, each wearing top hats and old dresses, sat in the first row of church prayer chairs, waiting for something with serious faces.

After about ten minutes, an old man with gray hair but an unusually noble temperament walked out of the back of the church, he stood at the top of the prayer platform, and when he saw the small movements of the young people in the back row, a dark red light flashed in his pupils.

"Silence!"

Accompanied by a cold drink from the old man.

A wave of spiritual shock beyond ordinary people's perception emanated from the center of his eyebrows and spread throughout the church in an instant.

Everyone present, especially the young people who were making small moves behind the parents, instantly felt a sense of panic that is unique to facing the lion and tiger suddenly rose from their minds.

Many young people who were whispering and not being convinced by each other felt that their mouths were stiff and their tongues were numb, and they couldn't say anything at once.

"I'm not interested in your grievances!"

"I'm not here on behalf of the Blood Court, not to deal with you!"

Facing the soil emperor in these small towns alone, the old man scolded without hesitation, and the parents of the two major families below did not have the slightest intention of refutating, and honestly obeyed the old man's instructions.

"The largest Protestant witcher in the West, the Dawn Cross Order, the executioners whose hands have been stained with the blood of countless compatriots, are heading for Rokofell."

"And this town, ruled by you, the descendants of Baron Braithwaite and Grey of the Blood, is the only way for them to reach their final destination."

"With your men, your rodeos, your weapons······ And even yourselves! ”

"Stop them!"

With vicious words, they echoed in this originally solemn and holy church.

After speaking, the old man turned around without hesitation, and in a dark cloud of smoke, he turned into 7 or 8 bats, flew out of the church window, and disappeared into the dark sky after sunset.

Only the prayer platform where the old man was standing before was left, a diamond-shaped crimson blood core next to the candle began to emit a gloomy and confused blood light.

Under the light of this blood light, the direct descendants of Braithwaite and the Gray family couldn't help but stand up, their eyes also flashing with strange blood, and the corners of their mouths, due to the decline of the elemental tides, gradually degenerated into blood-sucking fangs almost like humans in this century, and spread out again······

——————————————

Esalius is the capital of Rokofield and the third largest human city in all of Western America.

It is next to the largest and most magnificent river in the West, backed by the beautiful Walman Forest with endless trees and a myriad of eerie rocky Mills mines to its right······ The capital of Roccofell, with the exception of a slightly smaller population, has little shortage of resources to hinder the city's growth.

However, the most famous place in all of America is neither the resources it produces, nor the beautiful natural landscape that surrounds it.

Rather, it was the largest slave trading market in western America, the Esalius Factory.

"Gentlemen!"

"A strong Yin Di'an and Daqing male slave only costs 30 dollars."

"And a slave girl is a little more expensive, you can get it for 50 dollars!"

"Of course, the price of black slaves is still the same, as long as half of the price above·······"

Howard Phillip, a well-known local science fiction artist, walked through the gates of the slave market with a roll of newspaper in his right hand.

Those slaves who were in rags, tied with hemp ropes, and numb in their eyes following their masters, walking on the streets, made the American literati who had studied in a state high school feel a little uncomfortable in his heart, but because his residence was not far from here, he had seen a lot after all, and soon this low mood was left behind.

"Lady Lisa, has my letter arrived?"

Howard walked briskly into the post office next to the slave market and asked the woman who was working at the wooden counter inside.

"Ahh It's Mr. Howard. ”

"Your friend Mr. Lovecraft's letter has arrived."

Mrs. Lisa seemed to know Howard very well, but after a brief glance at him, she quickly handed him a thick letter after making sure it was her.

Immediately afterward, Howard bought some food, returned home, warmed a glass of warm milk, and opened his best friend's letter.

"Howard, my friend."

"Lately, I have become less and less aware of God's radiance."

"There was a weird whisper that was always in my head, and I thought there was something wrong with my body."

"But my family doctor, Angela Merkel, told me that I was physically fit and hardly like a person who was almost 50 years old."

"Perhaps, maybe it's something wrong with my spirit······"

Howard frowned as he read this, his friend's health was in trouble, which made him worry, and he quickly continued to read the letter.

“······ It all started with a book I found that day from my dead grandfather's belongings······"

“······ I have excerpted a part and presented it to you, my friend. ”

Flipping to the last page of the stationery, Howard saw a booklet the thickness of a little thumb, the size of a palm, and similar in size to the folded stationery.

On the cover of the booklet, a chaotic-looking creature made of blue ink scribbles and covered with countless tentacles stares at him with a bloodshot eyeball.

On the eyeball illustration, a line of handwriting, but uncharacteristically, allows Howard to understand the meaning of the Latin, and writes a line side by side—"The City of Snails: The Textbook".

······