Stealth isn't Barrett's forte, but luckily, there aren't many undead in the middle of nowhere.

Crawl through the winding alleys and break the neck of a zombie peeking out of a window, jump over a crumbling ruins and cut down two ghouls vying for splinters on the ruins, and climb a low, mottled wall and crush a miserable white skeleton that seems to be thinking about life in a daze under the wall......

Barrett's "stealth" journey was fruitful, at least the undead along the way were quickly wiped out by him, without causing a massive commotion or intractable trouble.

A church-like building along the way caught his eye, and Barrett paused to look, "Could it be that this town still worships some god?" he thought to himself, then shrugged his shoulders and put the thought behind him.

On the side of the road ahead, under a withered plane tree, stood a female zombie with a pale face. It wore a torn and faded white cloth dress, its head tilted slightly, and watched Barrett running from a distance. It didn't growl, it didn't feel like a "kiss" from it, it just seemed to be looking at a new creature it had never seen before.

It's a quiet zombie, standing motionless under a tree, and you can't tell which is more symbolic of death, or if there's no essential difference between it and the dead tree.

Barrett slowed down, and the sword that had been swung out was temporarily retracted. He kept looking at the zombie with a strange expression, and slowly approached.

Could it be that the one in the tombstone attribute "has a certain probability of reducing the hostility of the undead" has finally taken effect for the first time? Barrett stopped in front of the female zombie with curiosity and looked directly into the other party's eyes.

Its eyes did not shine with reason like the zombie Daniel, but it did not shine with death and madness like other zombies. There is only confusion in its eyes, confusion that knows nothing.

"Hello. Barrett asked.

The other party did not respond, and his eyes did not blink.

Barrett shrugged, "Well, goodbye." He continued to run into the distance. But after a few steps, he turned back to the female zombie, and after two heartbeats of each other, he suddenly reached out and touched the female zombie's face, and then ran away as if he were running away.

"It's not been long since the last time I vented, how can you look at a zombie with beautiful eyebrows?" Barrett shook his head in confusion, and attributed it to the after-effects of the fierce battle.

Slowly moving forward, Barrett approached the tall wall at the edge of the town again. His route through the town is generally a half-arc with many serrations and burrs. He himself is like an ant groping through the labyrinth, relying on the very unreliable tentacles, looking for that bit of honeydew in the constant bumps and twists and turns.

Beyond the walls there was a hill, and at the top of the hill seemed to be a lonely old wooden windmill. There was not a trace of wind in this sealed space, but the old windmill still turned half a circle from time to time.

However, this strange scene did not attract Barrett's attention, because by this time his ant had already found the honeydew......

It is an ordinary two-story house of masonry, not significantly different from the buildings around it. Such houses abound in the town, until Barrett suddenly heard a childish, light childlike voice in his head, which made the house stand out from the other secretive, deep buildings.

"My, home?" the child's voice wasn't sure at first.

"Are you asking me?" Barrett stopped in front of the house, his habitual glance around. In this gray space like a black and white painting, it seems that he alone contains color.

"My, home!" the voice in his head became a little happy.

"If you could have been so excited, maybe we could have gotten here sooner. Barrett reached out and grabbed the doorknob and tugged at it, but the door didn't move.

“...... I didn't expect that the person who took you away at the beginning still has a good habit of locking the door casually. He walked to the left-hand side of the door, where there was a half-open window.

Barrett pushed the window open and looked in sideways, not noticing anything unusual.

"To be honest, I don't want to meet your parents here. He jumped into the room through the window, "It may be a lively scene, but it may not be friendly." ”

The oak floor is "ravaged" by Barrettron's leather boots, making it tickle your teeth with a terrifying "scream".

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure standing faintly next to the main entrance, and he turned his head sharply to look.

It's a hanger.

A cotton dress, a linen jacket, and a square silk shawl hung from the hanger, which made Barrett clench his sword again.

The cabinet on one side of the room was opened, and its contents were scattered all over the floor, long knitting needles, small half-knitted scarves, a few rolls of thread, a coarse cloth hat, and a few bits and pieces of buttons and knitted trinkets.

Barrett walked past the clutter and headed for the staircase. The walls along the road are marked with many fingernail scratches, and the marks are in low positions, like those left by children or gnomes.

"My, home!!" the voice in my head came happily again.

"I know. Barrett walked up the stairs. On the wall on one side of the staircase hang two portraits, one of which depicts a young couple-like man and woman, holding a baby crying in their arms.

The painter has a deep foundation, and the scenes of men and women coaxing the little babies, as well as the doting on the babies in their eyes, are vividly depicted. It's just that this painting has basically faded under the erosion of negative energy, only the red on the woman's lips is faintly still there, and I don't know what dye the original painter used.

The other is a single little girl, about 5 or 6 years old, with honey-colored hair that is neatly combed. She stood in front of the door of the house in a dress of broken checker, holding a small basket of flowers in her hand, her lips slightly pursed, a little unhappy, as if she was a little bored by maintaining a movement for a long time.

The artist of this painting is clearly not the same person as the previous one. Because the style of this painting is too realistic, no one likes to engrave the angry look in the painting, the artist only needs a few strokes, and the expressions of the characters will be very different, but the artist still chooses to paint it as it is.

Walking up to the second floor, Barrett glanced out through the window at the top of the staircase, the moonlight in the sealed space was getting dimmer and dimmer, and he estimated that the moonless hour that he hated Gerdor's mouth would soon come. Luckily, he's managed to find the building, and the rest should just have to wait.

There are two rooms on the left side of the stairs on the second floor and one room on the right. Outside the door of the room on the left, a plush cotton doll in the shape of an elf girl lies quietly on the ground, and a broken pronunciation box is upside down next to it.

Barrett stepped forward, picked up the doll, and looked at it in his hand. One of the elven ears of the doll has been opened, and only a trace of thread is left on the side of the head, hanging in the air and dangling, a little miserable. He put the doll into the Spatial Ring. Then he walked to the door of this room and stopped to look in.

A vertical wardrobe was attached to the wall, and the cabinet was opened, revealing various children's clothes scattered on the floor. Next to the closet is a small single bed with a plaid pattern.

The sheets were wrinkled, curled, and irregular, and one corner of it was hidden over the cabinet next to the bed. Next to the bedside table was a bronze candlestick that fell to a window facing the hill. A string of star-shaped wind chimes hangs on the upper edge of the window, and a delicate square flower pot is placed on the windowsill, but there are no plants growing in the pot.

At this moment, an ethereal and immature voice sounded in my head again, "I'm back!", and in addition to happiness, there were some other strange emotions in the voice.

Barrett found that the closer she got to the room, the more active the little Eve in the tombstone became, and the more real and clear the emotions expressed.

There was nothing unusual in the room, but just as Barrett had just stepped on the door with his left foot, a faint wind chime suddenly sounded in the dark room, which seemed to welcome the return of its owner.

......