Author's note: I'm really sorry, this chapter was supposed to be sent out at noon, but Mom and Dad's phone bill was not paid, the phone was cut off, and I had to pay at the telecom business hall - there was a problem with the air conditioner again, and someone needed to watch when someone came to repair it, so it was late - sorry sorry, okay, this chapter was sent out, I continued to go to the code word, it may be late, adults can come to see it tomorrow morning. Thank you!

When hearing the sentence of ten years of exile, Kerry Ben reached out and pressed the arm of Cremar, whose shoulder was moving slightly, ten years is indeed a long time for a human being, but Adel is still young, even if he is exiled for ten years, he will only be thirty years old when he returns to the White Tower, this cannot be said to be a punishment for him, it can only be said to be a disguised protection, in any case, the time that occupies one-fifth of his entire life is enough to make that terrible night fade in the memory of some people.

It wasn't until he heard the follow-up to the verdict that Ranger looked at An Rui who was standing on the platform to announce the verdict. And the young half-elf gave her innocent and gentle inquiring look, as if she had just made a harmless joke - no one would contain sinners with a brand on their cheeks, especially the ones that could not be healed and covered, which meant that there must be a magical or divine part of it, that people would expel them, hurt them, kill them, no priest would want to treat them, they would not even find a chance to be slaves, yes, even the mines and gladiatorial arenas that were in desperate need of consumables would not accept them.

Their best outcome is to find an inaccessible place, to make no contact with anyone, and to spend ten years alone - without being defeated by disease, hunger, beasts, or human weapons. They may be able to return to the White Tower in ten years, but the indelible sign will be a reminder of what they have done and that they will never be able to return to their old lives.

The most important point is that even the elves can't make Adel with this ugly mark the ruler of the White Tower, how can you get people to trust and obey a sinner who will be despised and ostracized?

A burning anxiety gripped the ranger's heart, and he had no time to think, and stood up.

- Hold him and don't let him say anything he shouldn't say. The former undead reminded hurriedly.

"Kerryburn!" Crimar shouted, as he stood up and grabbed Kerribben's arm with his backhand, just as Kerribburn had held his arm when he was skeptical about the ten-year exile sentence.

All eyes fell on them, and as a sign of respect for the lord and the law, the elf pulled down the hood of his cloak, his blonde hair wet from the rain, and his long pointed ears peeking out in the ornate silk threads.

Slowly erecting himself from his chair, Demon walked over to Anrui and placed one of his hands on the maiden lord's waist: "It seems that our elf (he deliberately accentuated the pronunciation of the word 'elf') ranger has any objection to the lord's verdict?"

If Cremar's stop hadn't brought Kerry to his senses completely, then Demon's problem was no less than a basin of cold water mixed with finely crushed ice, and the hot blood quickly faded from the ranger's face and brain, and he looked at Anrui again, and Anrui smiled at him, and Demon's eyes seemed to be intertwined with poison and spikes, and he looked at the people around him, and he only looked at the blank and ignorant faces. This kind of punishment of branding on the face is not uncommon in this world, and some lords are quite keen on it, but the previous archons of the White Tower were almost all elves and half-elves, and they had never used this kind of punishment that not only destroyed ** but also damaged the spirit, so the people of the White Tower did not know about it- Perhaps they had heard a little from the bards, but they had only heard of them, and it could even be said that most of them were still in favor, after all, their lords were also for the sake of those who did not know, and if a generous and kind-hearted person lost his own life and that of his relatives because of his kindness, wouldn't it be a very sad thing?

There are also those who are full of hatred because their loved ones and loved ones have been killed, but they don't care if the shackles are really insane, they just want to watch the lord order the heads of these wicked people to be cut off, or other more cruel punishments, of course they want to see the murderer suffer more crimes.

The former and the latter have one thing in common, and that is that they both believe Demon's lies and believe that their misfortune is caused by the Covenant City of the White Tower, Grey Ridge, turning a blind eye to their calamity.

Kerry Ben has no support here.

The brazier that had been prepared was burned red, and a mage recruited by Dermont (if you remember, he threw a spell for watching in the room of the "pig's intestines") used a simple trick on two soldering irons to transform them into Rosada's emblems, and then he looked at Demon, and at the bottom of one of the emblems he depicted a strange bug with one leg, and finally he swiped and split the two figures in half.

- What does that bug mean?, the otherworldly soul asked.

-- The former immortal let out a shrill laugh -- the monopod, which devoured its siblings when it was a larva and its parents when it was an adult, was regarded by humans as a symbol of murder -- and it was evident that the girl had more human blood in her body, and behold, she so legitimately cut off all the boy's way (he shook his head gracefully)- Desecration of Rosada is a serious sin, but in the eyes of some it may still be a medal, but few people are willing to deal with a person who puts the name of a murderer on his face.

- Anrui?

- Or maybe Demon, the lich said, but what's the difference between the two?

The rain never stopped, but the flames in the brazier were unaffected, and the executioner and his lieutenant took turns lifting the handles of two glowing soldering irons, pressing their uneven bottoms against the right side of the prisoner's face, and when they burned the skin, they hissed and smoked loudly, and the bearers all screamed hysterically, and some of the weaker fainted. They were dragged aside by a few improvised recruits, and another mage, who had also been recruited by Demon, poured a translucent potion onto the blackened and bleeding wounds, the potion had a distinct and clear sour smell, and the moment it fell on the brand, it made them congeale and swell, and then atrophied in a short time, sinking deep into the skin, and the tearing pain it caused fainted the awake and woke the fainted.

Adel was put last, and it was hard to say if it was yet another kind of hard and invisible torture as he saw his former senior pastor, whom he regarded as his father, calmly tilt his face and let the humiliating and painful soldering iron hit him on the cheek.

Perhaps it was for this reason that his heart was calmed when he was dragged before the executioner, and the iron fell on his face, and he smelled the smell of burnt flesh, and he thought strangely of his father's favorite roast suckling pig, which the cook would have been whipped if he had roasted the piglet.

He didn't faint, and after being dragged aside, it was none other than his brother Demon who poured the magic potion on him.

"Good luck," said Demont, "my brother." ”

Anrui showed her greatest mercy to those who were exiled by giving them a day to recuperate and allowing them to bring what they could bring.

The priests of Rosada had nothing, and all their belongings were placed in their own rooms of the sanctuary, and as blasphemers, they were burned by the pale golden light as soon as they stepped into the sanctuary of Rosada - they could not even get a single garment to cover their bodies, and the robes that had been worn had been thrown into the furnace by the prison guards.

Cremar took off his black cloak and draped it over the old senior pastor to shield him from the icy rain and the colder human gaze, the senior pastor habitually wanted to make a gesture of blessing, but was interrupted by a sharp pain that was no less severe than that of a soldering iron, and he closed his eyes to prevent the pain and disappointment in his eyes from being exposed.

Carey had given his cloak to another priest, who seemed to have broken his ribs, and he looked around with a slight hesitation, the crowd had dispersed, night was about to fall, the clouds that brought rain obscured the remaining light, and the streets that connected the square were pitch black, except for the lights of two or three taverns.

Just as Kerry was about to try to go to the tavern to see if he could buy a few sheets, a sudden and loud expletive voice suddenly broke their peace, and when Cremar and Kerryburn turned their heads to look over, a fat woman was throwing a voluminous robe out of the door. Before the robe could fall to the ground, she slammed the door shut, and the sound of the door slamming on the frame of the door was so loud that it shook the whole square, and the door chattered and blamed some stupid maid for ruining one of her favorite robes, so much so that she had to throw it away, because it was a puddle of foul-smelling garbage.

Cremar glanced at Kerryburn, and went over to pick up the robe, it was not at all as bad as its owner had claimed, it was a double layer of thick cotton, white, new, very clean, except for a large fresh-looking curry sauce stain on the chest, and a few small potato grains were still stained in the sauce, which were still hot.

A man hurried over from the other end of the square, with a package on his head and one under his arm, and ran past the naked priest, and when he passed the last priest, the package he was holding suddenly fell, and the priest who had just been burned in the cheek couldn't shout at all, and when Kerry found out about it, the guy had already run away without a trace.

Kerry picked up the package, a tightly rolled garment containing a small jar of inferior ale.

Then a tavernkeeper suddenly threw out of his window half a dozen torn sheets - torn by a dagger, if you had to say that.

On the way back to the inn where Cremar and Kerriben were temporarily staying, they picked up more "garbage" that had been discarded by the people.

The inn was brightly lit, and the innkeeper, dressed in black mourning clothes, stood at the door, his two broom-like eyebrows standing unpleasantly upside down: "I don't have a room for you to stay," he said, "only the stable, whatever you want." ”

With that, he walked away.

The stables were cleaned, and there was a brazier that was said to keep the horses dry and warm, a large bucket of water for the horses to drink, and another bucket of steaming oatmeal porridge for the horses.

The priests did not cry when they were hurt and killed by their companions, when they were imprisoned with their bodies, when they were expelled from the sanctuary in Rosada, when they were sentenced to exile and burning.

Now they are crying.

;