At around 8 o'clock in the evening, Zhao Qian walked out of the tavern behind him with satisfaction.

He got the bullets, and he knew the location, a nearby cemetery in the city of Paris.

It is not as grand as the world-famous Father La Sherriz Cemetery, but it is also somewhat historic. And, most importantly, there is a very important condition in that place, chaos. It can be seen from the old Jack muttering that people nearby used to dig up the basement and dig up pieces of dead people's bones. I've heard that anyone who bribes the grave keeper to do whatever you want in there.

The bodies buried there were also locals and foreigners whose families were poor or who had no relatives in the world to take care of the aftermath.

The streets were sparsely populated by gunfire in taverns. But it also became a good opportunity for the street warblers to pull people, because there was no one to compete with them for business. Some elves-worms-brain-prostitutes-passengers are familiar with these girls who scratch their heads and pose that they may not look at on weekdays.

The street is getting deserted.

Zhao Qian walked down the street, looking at the somewhat eerie ticket-shaped tattoo on his wrist as he studied what had just burst through the vampire's light blue key.

"Bloody leather gloves (right hand)

Origin: The suburbs of Provence, France

Equipment Rarity: White.

Equipment Effect: Increases your strike speed by 3 agility.

Equipment requirements: 5 spirit points.

Equipment Position: Hands.

Material: Humanoid leather.

Attachable device: Bloodline Demon Tattoo (unthorned).

Weight: 0.2 kg.

Length: 300mm

This type of equipment comes with a special effect: there is a certain chance to increase the chance of critical hits during the attack.

Comments: Hagrid never let anyone wear it because of the love-hate story inside.

Combat Effectiveness Score: 10"

"Bloodline Pure Liquid (Bloodline)

Item Rarity: White

Effect: Change your bloodline to make you a Bloodline Untitled.

Requirements: None.

Application: Injectable.

Item Effect: It is able to attract mobs interested in it after losing its seal.

Comment: I feel sorry for your character, this is something that no smart person will use. ”

The gloves were worn by Zhao Qian on his hands, a thin layer, flesh-colored, and when you look at it from a distance, it looks like it is no different from not wearing gloves.

It was only after seeing the equipment that he figured out why Hagrid's agility stat was 10 like him, but he was able to knock himself flying faster than he did.

As for the tube of blood clan pure liquid, it was lying quietly in the space of the ticket-shaped tattoo on Zhao Qian's wrist, a tube of scarlet and black blood, a bit like blackcurrant juice. But you can vaguely feel that it is more viscous than ordinary blood.

The ticket space was also something that he only knew about when he opened the key to get the equipment just now, and before that, those prompts didn't seem to tell these things.

Outsiders may not know its value and think that it is just storage space, but in his opinion, if he just knew that it can be like this, then it will not be so troublesome. At least it doesn't have to be so much trouble to kill Hagrid.

Feeling the gun in his hand not stopping on the ticket and the conversion in his hand, Zhao Qian's feet did not stop, and he continued to walk forward.

The road in front of him was getting darker and darker, and he could clearly feel that there were fewer pedestrians here.

Walking to the gate of the cemetery, there was not a single pedestrian. It is in stark contrast to the brightly lit city of Paris in the distance. The cold wind mixed with a few crows whistled towards Zhao Qian, but he didn't seem to be aware of it.

"Elie Cemetery."

By the light of the moon, which was still bright in the sky, he could read the handwriting on the gate without hindrance. The rusty capital A at the top of it is crumbling.

In front of a small wooden house next to the gate, a kerosene lamp flickering in the wind flickered in the darkness.

Zhao Qian effortlessly pushed open the big iron door in front of him, which was obviously in disrepair, and it was unlocked.

The room lit up with the screeching sound of the iron door grinding against the shaft.

"Who?"

There was an old voice from the cabin, but it was mixed with an uncomfortable-sounding shrity, as if someone had grabbed the speaker's throat.

It seems that the elderly, no matter what age they are, are easily awakened.

"Is it Mr. McGee?"

Zhao Qian asked, as if he had come to visit someone else's guest. If the timing is right.

"Is there anything wrong with you?"

"It was Old Jack of the Trouser Gang who introduced me......"

Before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the old man in the house, who walked out wearing a thick leather coat. Zhao Qian looked at the wrinkled face on the other side by the light in front of the house, and the greedy light in his cloudy eyes loomed in it.

"Fifty francs."

The old man said, with a smile on his face, a thief. This kind of thing, he is almost familiar with.

A fifty-denomination silver coin was thrown out of Zhao Qian's hand expressionlessly, making the eyes of the person opposite shine brightly.

He didn't look back and walked past him, ignoring the guy's smiling smile.

The old man blew on the silver coin in his hand and put it to his ear and listened carefully to some fairy music.

A few jackdaws flew up in the cold moonlight in the cemetery not far away, and the old fellow walked back into the house in his old fur coat, as if he had not seen it.

"Looks like that thing is pretty powerful, Ange."

In a warm and bright room, the archbishop, dressed in pajamas, looked carefully at the report in his hand, which was full of ciphertext.

The paper quickly turned into a pile of ashes after he read it, and was poured into a small bag by the arbitrator behind him.

"Yes, sir."

The expressionless coachman replied, and he picked up the thick French-labeled Bible from the bookshelf behind the bishop and looked at it.

"But our little witcher is dying soon."

The bishop touched the silver cross around his neck, his expression always so relatable.

"Isn't that what the adults wanted? Let the fellows of the Demon Hunter Guild ......"

"No, no, no, Angers. It's everyone. "The struggle between the church and secular rights has been going on for a long time.

"I want the entire Demon Hunting Guild, so that it will be enough to satisfy Lord Gabriel who is far away in Tibet."

"I see."

The man in black closed the thick book, put it back on the shelf, and walked out the door.