"Old Morinda!" shouted the caravan master in a fit of rage, crushing a runic emblem disguised as a pendant on his chest, the fragile emerald containing magical energy gushing out from the shattered gem, and the spell tossed the fire elemental creature clinging to the caravan master's head far away, sparing the owner of the scroll from having their heads burned to black.

A grayish-white shadow invaded his realm, and the caravan master put his index fingers together, chanting incantations, and the frenzied air formed a whirlpool of rage around him, blurring even his image. Cremar's elemental pet, the eight-legged spider uneasily tapped its chelicera, making a hissing sound like grinding steel, the flames on its body seemed to be swept away by the wind, and it seemed to be submerged in water, gradually becoming small and transparent, the black-haired young spellcaster glanced at it and cast a flaming dagger, this spell was used more in melee combat, but Kremar didn't cast it for the sake of fighting - the fire elemental creature hesitated for a moment, and then leaped into the blade-like flames— Ordinary spells are hardly a threat to elemental creatures, but some spells can be deadly, and in general, they have almost only two endings, one is that the magic is exhausted and dissipates somewhere on the main material plane, and the other is that their master is willing to release a spell with the same essence as them, and the magical essence and pure elements contained in it can create a passage between them and the elemental plane from which they were born, so that they can return home and recuperate.

Warlocks are usually gloomy and selfish, for them, elemental pets are indispensable, but not just one or the other, some will even kill pets they feel are not strong enough to be able to re-summon better elemental creatures, and in battle, it is difficult for spellcasters to give up an opportunity to attack an enemy or escape to cast a spell to let their little pet go first, but this is not Cremar. More accurately, it is not something that a soul from another plane that controls this body can do. Although it was a bit stupid to give up the opportunity to attack first and send away the elemental pets that could be summoned again, the caravan master and the old mage with his disciple, the old Morinda thought it was not a little stupid, but very stupid.

If Cremar had cast a different spell against the caster, he might not be in a worse position - he would now be facing two enemies, both of whom were mages.

"Ten thousand sorry," the old Morinda flew up. With a disgusting, hypocritical pant, he said, "I've used up my flying skills, my dear, and I almost didn't find my scroll." ”

"Shut up. The caravan master said angrily, "Put it in a more useful place." ”

The old Morinda shrugged his shoulders and muttered something like "old" as he staggered from his bag looking for so-called spellcasting materials, and the caravan owner couldn't help but regret it, because he was in charge of the mission (you can take this as a soothing), so he had the right to choose who he needed, and there was no shortage of mages or warlocks in the "Evil Thorn" guild. There were even a few priests, but after thinking about it again, he still chose the old Morinda Morinda. Morinda doesn't have a good reputation in the guild because he's too timid and lazy. He never looked at the expensive bounties, but only looked for work in the innocuous little tasks, not because there were no high-ranking officials or leaders who wanted to get rid of him, replace him, or something like that. The problem is that he always performs at the critical moment, and all he seeks is a few tinkling gold coins, and his eyes are not aimed at the chair of the superior. He didn't aim at the dimensional bag of his peers, even bullying those newcomers who had just joined the guild was occasionally done (and at the same time ensuring that the novices who had a grudge against him would never become veterans), so everyone didn't like him very much but didn't bother to deal with him, so he slowly survived the dangerous "thorn" like the endless abyss, and brazenly declared that he was one of the elders of the guild.

The caravan master had many people to choose from, but he finally chose the old Morinda and his disciples, because the old Morinda was past the age of coveting merit and intent on murdering his colleagues and superiors and promoting them, he was like a dying candle flame that could turn into a wisp of green smoke at any moment - even if he sought a higher position, he would not be able to sit still for a few years, and his appearance could lower the vigilance of many people, especially for those who always had good intentions, wrinkles and gray hair were simply a fruitful charm spell.

But what he didn't expect was that the old Morinda would not threaten him, but it would not threaten his enemies either, damn it, he should have thought about how the old Morinda had survived until now - this old guy who was working hard simply relied on perfunctory and procrastination to solve every task!

"Find them!" ordered the caravan master gloomily—and in the split second they staggered to each other, the black-haired spellcaster plummeted and disappeared into the reeds with the elf, and the old Morinda bowed to him, "Yes, my master," he said, making a strange gesture. An arrow of flame pierced into the reed, and the reed burst into flames.

"What about your disciple?" asked the caravan master.

"I asked him to catch the two brightly colored birds. Old Morinda replied deferentially but indifferently, he knew that his boss was annoyed, but when he made his choice, he should have thought that Old Morinda would not be a capable person.

"Yes," said the caravan master in an ominous tone, "I see the two little birds, and it is evident that they are free. ”

Old Morinda paused thoughtfully, as if he didn't think his disciple would make such a superficial mistake. But in fact, he was not as surprised as he appeared. Morinda Morinda had even more talent than he had - he had even threatened his mentor to take back the contract between them, the contract that the mentor used to restrain his disciples - he had vaguely told him that he had found a real backer in the guild, and that if Morinda was stubbornly unwilling to hand over the contract, or if he wanted to do something with it, his new master would teach him a lesson, and he swore that he would suffer a hundred times and a thousand times his suffering.

The old Morinda reacted as sluggishly and timidly as ever, and he only begged his disciples to complete the work given to them by the caravan master with him, and agreed to give his disciples the most valuable and harmless parts of the work - "so that you will have better content to repay your new master." The old Morinda said, "I will also hand over the contract...... Maybe you'll be willing to give me a few more coins? I don't want much, you know. He said so. In doing so, Leona and Memmy were undoubtedly the weakest of their prey, and trying to capture them was as easy as wearing trousers—but the old Morinda seemed to have forgotten that his disciples had a bad problem that few people knew about, that is, he liked women too much, especially Flo's priests—and that he had the common male trait, that is, he always liked to think of all women as fools.

Old Morinda knew that his disciple was dead when he saw Mei Mi and Leona fighting Baldwin and Gülen unharmed.

But so what? No one can find fault with the old Morinda, not to mention that there is no idiot in the "Evil Thorn" guild who would embarrass a living person for the sake of a dead person, and he will go back. It's not too good, it's not too bad, it's not too bad to live his life comfortably in the room the guild gave him.

The caravan master and the old Morinda landed one after the other, the former making a gesture, and a dark gray cloud of dirt formed on the heads of Berdwin and the others.

"Hold your breath!" shouted Gülen, who was the first to notice something was wrong.

The caravan master smiled as a spellcaster, unaware that this poisonous cloud could penetrate your skin even if you plugged your ears and nostrils with lead, and paralyzed your nerves in a few breaths—and then, as he thought, a wall of glowing light rose from beneath the prey's feet, blocking the cloud from the ground in the mist. And before that, the old Morinda's spell had been thrown.

They knew that their companions would not leave them behind, and that if they were in danger, the black-haired spellcaster Camemar and the Elven Ranger Kerry would have managed to rescue them—and the old Morinda had targeted Camemar. The spell he threw was one of the most powerful he remembered, and if Cremar were hit by it, he would be torn into countless pieces.

The spell struck the black-haired caster, and the old Morinda smiled a hideous grin. The smile was a very different side to his appearance, and it creeped out to everyone who saw them, and it was now on the old mage's body. You can no longer find a trace of the kindness and calmness that comes with age, he is like a cursed puppet who has been abandoned for hundreds of years, every crack and speck is a sign of evil and ominous, he grins, his white hair flies in the hot wind driven by the flames, he is a hyena that is no longer strong because of old age, but more cunning and despicable, he cannot catch his energetic prey, but he is better at finding the injured and sick.

But his smile froze in the next moment, for he too felt a sharp pain, and he waved his hands and threw a scroll to hide himself, but he could not find any signs of being cut by a sword or struck by a spell in himself—he was sure that there was only one mage among his prey, was it the priest of the Flo, or was his disciple still alive? The Endless Abyss was below! He should have expected that the women would always be merciful— He heard the caravan master shouting his name, oh my God, my dear, he complained in his heart, are you so inseparable from me? I have already killed that mage, and there are more than fifty more soldiers fighting with you, and the rest is only a matter of time.

Old Morinda should have listened to what the caravan master was shouting, for although his spell had struck Cremar, it had only damaged his robes, causing some damage, and of course, deep pain, and the soul from the other plane had to thank the former undead for his bad deeds, and the kind of torture that called mentoring made him not as overly sensitive to pain as he had when he first arrived— Not only can he endure but also unmistakably unleash two spells in succession at the Lich's instructions, one to see through invisible enemies, and the other to use telekinesis to ram and grapple targets.

The embarrassed old Morinda was dragged out of oblicia by the caster who temporarily threw the old and the young to the other side, and he lay on his back on the ground, his feet twisted together strangely, and there was a faint pain under his chest - he must have broken a few ribs, and he had not been able to find the person who had hit him, but the old Morinda was not a fledgling novice after all, and he began to bend his fingers to cast another spell as soon as he fell. Although his eyes widened when he saw the black-haired and white-robed enemy, he had rested for a whole day, recovered his spirit and memorized all the spells he could remember, and this black-haired young spellcaster, not only did he not get a rest, he cast spells and fought with the bipedal dwarf dragon for nearly half a day, but also worked hard to make up for the many loopholes deliberately poked out by the disciple of the old Morinda - what kind of height did he reach to have so many spell slots? Or was he not only nineteen years old, as he said, but one hundred and nineteen? surely the latter, otherwise he could not have been so alert and composed, damned, every spell he memorized was so effective and purposeful, and the old Morinda wondered if he had ever penetrated into his mind and peeked into every fold in the gray cortex.

But at any rate, the old Morinda cast his spell, which was not the most powerful, but no less deadly, but he was disappointed to see that it had no effect, for it struck a soft, sticky patch of skin that was as large as a swamp.

Pushing through the grass mound, the giant spotted eel that emerged from the mud twisted its body unhappily, as the elf said, the lightning beam could not even penetrate its skin, but the tingling it brought made it open its mouth, that huge mouth, even if a giant stood in it, it was more than enough, and maybe it could carry his wife- Old Morinda yelled frantically, tore open the scroll before the mouth closed at his waist, he was tossed out by a gust of wind and landed on the edge of the swamp, he scrambled to get up from the water, wearing the nest of a red-necked crane, and then, before he could make any moves, Cremar's spell tore a crack around him, and he struggled, danced, and was reluctantly teleported into an unknown alien plane.

When it was too late for the caravan master to intervene, Leona shattered a small rune disk, and the magical energy that overflowed from it condensed the enemies around her into snow-white and translucent ice sculptures, and with a light slap of the broadsword, Berdwin turned into countless shiny shards and fell to the ground - human hair, facial features, and viscera could still be seen in the shards, and the "stinging" soldiers took a step back uncontrollably. (To be continued.) )

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