Even the old fisherman, who had explained the domestic situation to Lao Chen before, was full of gratitude and thanked the "generous" businessman Dafoou.

Then.

He sat around with the crowd, his face reflecting the beating firelight, smelling the rich aroma of the rice in the pot, and swallowing his saliva until the food was cooked.

They did not notice the "kind-hearted" merchant, although with a kind professional smile on his face, that motionless expression—like a leather smiling in a human skin mask.

He and his guys were lined up against the grain station, and there was a strange and inexplicable look in the eyes of them watching them from the side, which made people feel a little infiltrated from their bones.

But what could be more important to the hungry than the food in front of them?

Even some experienced old people did not have any doubts about this.

What are they trying to do to them?

Dozens of cartloads of grain are sent by others, will they still put poison in them?

They are just penniless outcasts, except for one life~ they have nothing to do......

It has to be said that man is a good method of self-hypnosis!

After the wealthy merchant Dafoo left with his men, he did not go far, but hid with his men in the woods five miles away.

Many have a rough cuticle like rhinoceros skin when their camouflage spells have failed, others have skin that is red like steamed crab shells, or a sharp horn or two in a clump of hair.

This is the characteristic of the half-human, half-magic bloodline of the Tyvelyn who is a hybrid of human and demon and devil.

Archbishop Dafoo changed into a set of luxurious religious sacrificial robes that were as black as water, and let his men watch the situation of the exiles in the distance.

Hunger is always drowsy.

The same is true for the homeless who happen to have a full meal.

The thick clouds of the night sky disturbed the sparse moonlight, causing the mountains and trees on the ground to be upside down with the shadows, as if countless moody demons surrounded the camp camp, waiting for an opportunity to feast on the blood souls of humans.

The cool night breeze blew over Dafoo, causing him and his men to hear the faint wails and wails of the hungry in the distance.

Naturally, those grains are added, where can there be a free dinner in this cruel world.

There will be a lot of insignificant deaths tonight, but as long as it's not me.

Moreover.

This is also in the interests of most of the nobles and wealthy merchants in this kingdom, as well as his own church, and he is not really psychologically twisted, and he deliberately came to this country to slaughter thousands of displaced people.

In the kind of classic drama of middle two blood.

It's like always lining up to send experience.,Irrational deliberately and the protagonist who represents goodness and justice can't get along with the neurotic character.。

In reality, it is very rare.

Triad crimes are all about the balance of interests and risks, in fact, few adults will really not know whether to live or die.

Even if there are a few exceptions once in a while, no one will follow this kind of lone husband with no future prospects. Unless some careerists with ulterior motives secretly fund them to disrupt the political and social stability of a region, and finally wait for an opportunity to seek greater interests or cover up their plans for greater interests.

For example, this is often the case with cults and terrorist organizations in history.

For Archbishop Dafoo.

The most important result of this operation was not the Duke of Edmund Dundees, ah!~ No, it should be called the Marquis of Edmond Dundees's political promises, missionary permits, and other interests that he despised to scoff.

It is also his multiple plans to practice the path of truth, as well as to collect high-quality souls in the turmoil of war, and to deliver qualified believers to Abhoth, the true god in the 666th layer of the abyss.

A "caravan fellow" whose face was still as cold as ice water, without the slightest ripple, asked in a hard tone, "Lord Bishop, we used so many expensive spell materials to create the [Unclean Plague]. But the result is the creation of dolls that have no sense of self, just controlled by the instincts of hunger and killing. At best, he can only be used as cheap and durable low-grade undead cannon fodder. It doesn't seem to be of much use to our church?"

Dafoo laughed strangely, slowly walked up to the altar and raised his arms and shouted, "That's because these outcasts who have been converted today are just shoddy and substandard cheap materials!, although they have experienced a lot of hunger and suffering in the world. But there is still the light and hope of the world in my heart, and there are still too many greed and various desires. This is the poison of the seeker of truth!! like a pot of delicious venison soup, suddenly thrown into the leftover rotten shrimp and crab, canned herring juice, expired durian, etc., mixed up with all the mess, and all the pure taste is destroyed at once. You haven't seen the most suitable person to become a demon! Once the [Unclean Plague] is infected, then he does not need to fall into the bottomless abyss or the nine layers of hell, and immediately transforms into a powerful individual like a true demon in this life (the current plane)!

The young Dark Temple Guardian disguised as a "caravan buddy" was stunned and wondered, "Human desires also affect transformation?" As a layman of spells, he has always believed that as long as the ingredients and processes are correct, a spell should be released smoothly like eating and drinking. How can a person's innermost wishes and desires participate in the effects of spells?" is as confusing as a junior high school student thinking about linear algebra, and is completely unable to imagine a fraction of logic.

Dafoo shuddered with laughter.

The sound was like a dulled saw cutting through a steel plate, and even the few "devout" cultists around who were still purely human felt goosebumps.

Like a patient retired general, he is teaching his nephews and subordinates: "Feopouros, what do you think is the pure and magical path of true demons? Is it a psychopath born of being abused by his parents since childhood? Is it a bunch of sissies with necrophilia or pedophilia, or is it a strange (bian) and strange performance artist whose body bones are abnormally deformed by spells and implanted with metal objects? Or is it a group of desperate maniacs with antisocial personalities?" Or is it an executioner or butcher who is excited like a male dog in heat when he kills?"

The bishop was so excited that he stomped his scepter and beat a dull drum on the dirt and rocky ground: "No! The path of the true devil is the path of the pursuit of great truth! It is the supreme pursuit of eternity! It is not a dry discussion of truth, goodness, beauty, religious beliefs, human philosophy, and the beauty and ugliness of human nature; still less is it an anti-human social game in which a neurotic child waving a blade at a kindergarten child to vent his dissatisfaction and wantonly vent his desires! It must experience its way with the heart!"

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