readx;? The ugly fainted for a moment, maybe not even blinking, her eyes were dark, but her ears could still hear the violent wind, it was entirely from a kind of induction, she raised her arm violently, and a hoof the size of a bowl stepped on it as if it had waited earlier, her arm immediately snapped, fell to her chest, and then shattered along with her ribs, the only place to be thankful was that it was above the heart, the shoulder and part of the lungs were indecipherable, but she could still breathe painfully, although each breath was like inhaling a charcoal fire into her lungs。 Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 But she also knew that she didn't have a second chance.

But not at this time! She cried out in her heart, not at this time, she would not give up! She endured so much hardship, humiliation, and torture, not to sleep here silently and worthlessly!

She could feel the great, wings of death passing over her cheeks, a mountain-like force cruelly robbing humanity of the last shred of hope, and the ugly chicken smelled the dry monotony that supposedly came from the mourning wasteland. She was prepared that if she was going to die, she wouldn't go anywhere, believing that her soul could be as strong and strong as the body of the living, and that if she could break free from the shackles imposed on her by the orcs, and of course break free from the devil's snare, it would only be a much more difficult and rugged road.

But the force that was about to take her life suddenly vanished.

The ugly chicken opened her eyes, she breathed slowly, and turned her head to look in the other direction- It was the direction of the forest, and she lay on the ground, and she could only see tangled vines and thorns, and they were slowly receding to the sides, like courtiers making way for their king, for the human women could not hear the thin cords because of the blood that filled her ears, but she saw the finest pair of boots she had ever seen, and in her memory, all the boots, even those of the lord, were brown or black, and only the bard and the gnome rigoster occasionally wore red or green boots, which were silver-gray and shimmered metallic in the moonlight, but which looked so light and softWhen the light footsteps fall on the ground, even the blades of grass will not be broken.

Her gaze gradually moved upwards as the visitor approached, and at last the ugly chicken saw the sights that her husband had described to her, it was an elf, even if you didn't need to look at his long pointed ears or the color of his hair, the color of his iris, that man would not have such a flawless appearance, his body was so long and slender, but he was full of strength and confidence when he walked, and his expression was so majestic and with some melancholy, that he could surrender or be ashamed without words.

It only took a moment for the elf to come to the ugly chicken, he half-knelt down, and he didn't care about the nakedness and dirtiness of the ugly chicken, so he put his hand on the back of her shoulder, and helped her up, and another elf who followed him, the ugly chicken thought, maybe it was the priest of the elves, he chanted the incantation, waved his hands, and the white light flew down from the sky like snowflakes, and fell into the ugly chicken's wounds, and those hideous and terrible wounds suddenly stopped being so painful and no longer bleeding...... Immediately a small, clean bottle was placed to her mouth, and she drank the contents without hesitation, it was a little cold, but very sweet, and when it entered the body, it turned into a vigorous life-the ugly chicken could finally control her body again, and she opened her mouth desperately-she even forgot that she had no tongue, and that it was not words but dirty blood mixed with internal organs, and all these things were spilled on herself and the elves.

"Her injuries are very serious. The elven priest said, "It may not be possible to support the potion to do all its effects." ”

"Will it save her life?" asked Kerryben.

"We need to pray to Angelis. The elven priest said, and then, out of sheer curiosity, he asked, "Do you know this human?"

"I didn't know her," Mr. Carey said, "but I had a hunch that she seemed to be able to bring us extremely important information." The elven priest nodded, if it was just a group of mortals standing here, maybe some people would laugh at this statement, and spending such an important magic spell for the sake of the so-called premonition made people want to laugh and be angry, but this is the Silver Crown Forest, even if the elves do not have the talent of the caster, they can still sense the vibration of the thread of fate with their jealous nature and instinct, but some elves can only feel it related to themselves, or very weak, and some are extremely keen, such as their Wang Ingwe, in fact, this powerful spellcaster who has penetrated half of his body into the realm of gods, can see the thread of fate of almost every important person, but does not know whether it is a bad thing or a good thing, because although he can see it, he cannot move it - it is not allowed to amend, correct, change or even just say it.

This was also a heavy burden for the King of the Silver-Crowned Forest, which was almost comparable to that of the Jungle, so he had not left the Jungle for a long time...... In his youth, he had traveled to every corner of the plane, and he had as many friends as he had enemies, including dragons and gods, and he never minded accepting invitations to banquets, wars, or intrigues (which was not an elf, but it helped him as he led some of his people north), but as his power grew stronger, it became shackles, imprisoning the wandering and adventurous king in the forest.

In this way, the punishment given to him by the law, given his unwillingness to leave the jungle and leave this plane, can also be said to give him a rare opportunity to rest, when he falls into a deep sleep, his body can be at peace with his soul, instead of being constantly tricked and crushed by fate as when he wakes up.

Kerry may have inherited the abilities of his father, Ingway, but he could clearly sense that it was after he returned to the jungle alone that it was it that made him realize that he had made a mistake that he should not have made.

"Pray to Angelis," he said, "she may not be my friend now, but she will be." ”

The priests walked up to the ugly chicken, they joined each other's fingers, fingertips touched fingertips, they murmured in a low voice, as if they were singing, like birds chirping or the wind blowing through the forest, humans could not understand their language, but the ugly chicken still showed a smile, what a beautiful sound, she could see that these sounds were like sunlight breaking through the low and dull clouds, bringing her the rain and dew of life, she closed her eyes, and smiled like a baby. As in each previous case, Angelis quickly replied to their request, only the elves could see it, the emerald green transparent stream rushing in, forming a vibrant harbor around the ugly chicken, countless life forces poured into the human woman's body, they repaired all the wounds, soothed her panicked emotions, shattered bones, broken veins, broken flesh as soft and fast as an image of another plane reversed, her breathing became even again, became subtle, and by the time the last syllable of Angles's gift faded in the wind, the ugly chicken could not see that it had been hurt at all, to be correct, Traces of serious injuries that she almost died, Angelis's tolerance smoothed the scars she had left when she was a child, leaving no bumps, her skin was so smooth, although her facial features were still so ugly, and her skeleton was still so deformed, but as long as she lay there quietly, it was a statue that could be named "Life and Miracle".

The ugly twitched slightly, just like years ago, when she was still sleeping quietly next to her husband, when she was about to wake up, she always twitched like this, like a reminder and preparation, and soon, she opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a huge horned deer, just like in that nightmare, but this resolute woman remembered that it was not a nightmare, she had lost many things, they made her heart ache, and it was this pain and anger that had sustained her to get here.

"Where are you from?" asked Kerribben softly, "the lady of the humans?"

Ugly Chicken raised his hand to gesticate, but Elf Ranger immediately took her hand, "You should be able to speak now," he asked patiently, "Try it slowly?" Ugly Chicken's scars were still fresh, but the empathetic elf didn't want this terrible sight to reappear in her memories, but what he didn't know was that Ugly Chicken had a heart like steel: "I," Ugly Chicken tried, "I'm from ...... Wuthering Plains...... Come, I'm ...... Orc ...... Slave. She gasped for a moment, and though her tongue grew again, there was still a dull ache in the place where it was connected, and she didn't know if it was the body or the memory that was playing tricks, "I fled," she continued, this time with a good improvement in speed and fluidity: "I fled," she repeated, "and perhaps I got the help of a mage," and the ugly chicken decided to make the matter clear in detail, lest the elf be hurt by his story. The man who helped her, maybe he was kind, but he didn't identify himself, nor did he speak or show his true face: "We, I fled with a few slaves, and on the way, we met some other slaves, but they all escaped from the caravan, not the tribe of orcs. ”

The need for human slaves by the orcs has never ceased, but it is only a distinction between a small number and a large number. Kerry glanced at Perrant who was walking closer, and the manager of Grey Ridge had a heavy expression, obviously Ugly Chicken had more to say than that.

"Those brutes bought a lot of slaves," the ugly chicken continued, "there were Normans, and there were people from other countries, I don't recognize. She licked her lips, and one of the elves immediately offered a cup made of rolled leaves, and the water in it was still warm. Ugly Chicken took it and drank it down, "I don't know very well about men, we're separated," she said, "Women are used to procreate," she pointed to her belly firmly, "I don't know if they want us to give birth to something, but it's not an orc, it's a monster." ”

"What kind of monster?" Perrant asked, smelling the smell of the whole thing that would have made any druid furious.

"I'm sorry, I don't know much about it," said the ugly chicken, "they are ugly, they don't look like humans, they don't look like orcs, they have triangular teeth, they have dagger-like claws, they are born to eat meat and drink blood, even their own mothers and companions." ”

"Are you sure it's not just orcs?"

"I'm sure," said the ugly chicken, "orcs and humans, who can crawl out of his mother's belly in ten days......?" she glanced at her arm, and realized that the little wounds she had deliberately carved to keep track of the days were gone." I don't remember how long it took, but I watched my belly bulge, again and again, four times, or five times, and they crawled out, or tore open my mother's belly, and I was surrounded by human women like me, strong enough to hold on a little longer, and the weak ones died the same day—they, we ......," she said, and her voice became weaker, "we have suffered a lot...... Lots ......"

"Orcs or monsters?" Perrant asked bluntly.

An elven priest cast a reproachful glance, one can imagine how terrible it would be for a woman to say such a thing, but Perrante's gaze was as sharp as a sword about to slash down: "Did the orcs, or the monsters force you?"

"It's an orc. Ugly Chicken said that she felt like she was prostrations and exhaustion as if she had crossed another dragon's spine mountain range, but she said nevertheless, the orcs, and the potions, each of which was infused with potions at regular intervals, and how those monsters grew up in the blink of an eye, and when the orcs threw human limbs for food, they were able to bite off the thigh bones and skulls immediately.

Also, before the ugly chicken left, she saw the sheepfolds that rose like mushrooms after the rain in the orc tribe, and there were no less than a hundred women in each sheepfold, and these sheepfolds had so many fingers of her hands and feet combined, and there were others she didn't see.

Perrant and Kerry glanced at each other, and of course the elves were not uncalculating, and they could roughly calculate at once how many monsters these women would give birth to before winter came.

They didn't think that the orcs were just keeping these monsters as pets. (To be continued.) )