However, he still remembered the young man named Leon Xiluo, but now Leon must be old too. Pen "Fun" He had also inquired about Reon www.biquge.info but in the end there was no news, and he himself had returned to his old ways, which seemed to be in response to Polgar's judgment: decades had meant nothing to him, he had killed countless people, warriors and cowards, he had traveled countless roads, crossed the mountains of Rhodoc, searched for his way to victory in the snowy fields of Vecchia, met many companions, some died, some were separated, and finally he returned to the steppe alone and resumed the life of decades before, no different from before, except for being more lonely。 But at last he had a hut of his own, a fire of his own, and his sword and shield beside him, stained with rust and dust like his memories.

At last he opened the door, and the fire illuminated the tired faces of the Kugit outside. Porcha coldly let them into the house, and there were beds made of hay scattered on the floor, and three or four of them fell asleep, and their leader said a few polite words to Polcha, saying that this was a big order, and that he needed to take them on a journey to Kulau early tomorrow morning, and Porcha said a few words, and he went to sleep. Porcha carried in the "goods" they had left outside the door as usual, this young man was very handsome, Porcha was stunned for a moment, because he felt that this young man was very familiar, but he didn't think too much about it. Until he took out the young man's clothes, a lot of paper was scattered. Porcha was a little curious, so he opened it and looked at it. He remembered that when he was in the army, Jamila would often teach him some of the Callad script, and he was grateful to the gentle girl for that.

However, the words on the paper were not so easy to understand, and he hurriedly flipped through a few pages, his eyes resting on the title of the paper, and he clearly remembered the first words that Jamila had taught him that day, and he had silently sworn that he would never forget the name for the rest of his life, so he finally read it out accidentally: Leonshiro. He was stunned for a moment, then looked at the young man's golden hair as if he suddenly remembered something.

Without further thought, he stole around and found a bag and stuffed the manuscript into it. The snoring of those Kujits was already heard. He lightly touched the fire, pinned the rusty heavy scimitar to his waist, and carried the young man out of the door again with the cracked crack cavalry shield that had not been used for many years, and took one last look at the fire before leaving, and his cheeks seemed to burn.

When they came to the improvised stables he had set up outside the house, it was at the height of the night, and the moonlight and stars cast a silver halo in the sky, barely illuminating a few paths. Porcha untied the rope for him first and woke him up. Feljans opened his eyes in a daze, startled at the sight of two mad eyes on Porcha's swarthy face.

Polcha didn't care about his mood, just asked him seriously: "Is your mother Jamila?" Fellyans nodded stunnedly, Polcha suddenly breathed a sigh of relief, his tone softened a lot, and told him: "I'm Polcha, did your mother mention me?" Ferjans first looked at him suspiciously, carefully recalled his mother's description of Polcha, and then nodded sneeringly. Porcha finally laughed out loud and told him what had happened. Feljans didn't believe it at first, but when he touched his pocket, he was horrified, the loss of the purse was a trivial matter, but the manuscript was gone, and the pain in the back of his head continued. At this time, I saw Polcha smile strangely, took out a bag, and Feljans hurriedly reached in and fumbled for it, confirmed it a few times, and only breathed a sigh of relief when he found that not a single manuscript of his poem was missing. He glanced at Porcha gratefully, showing his trust in him.

Ferjans briefly introduced his experience and encounters, Porcha was silent for a long time, and many memories flashed before his eyes, and the faces of Fattis, James and many others also appeared one by one. Finally, after confirming Ferjans's determination, the voice in Porcha's heart finally prevailed, and the curtain of this self-deceptive life was torn away by his own hands. He showed the same kind of cute smile that he had not seen in a long time: "I am an excellent tracker and guide, I will tell you everything about Leon on the way, and the two of you can take care of each other, lest you be deceived by people like Polgar again." Feljans was also delighted, hugging Porcha excitedly, and words of thanks kept on his lips. Porcha muttered to himself, "There must be no turning back this time." "In his memory, there was always such a constraint in life that prevented him from really taking a step towards the path of his true hope, and now that life was running out of time for him, he had the only hope left, and he longed to really ignite the flame of his life.

When the old man opened the wooden door that had not been knocked for a long time in the morning, the swarthy face of the Kugit in front of him reminded him of that gloomy and dark night many years ago, when the sound of arrows came from all directions, and his countrymen bled and fell and died in the vast grassland. He was the leader of the group, the chief who knelt before Gerak and begged for the lives of his countrymen, the merchant who gave up all his possessions and nothing but longed to return home safely. He did not return to his homeland, for he had escaped the massacre of the Kugit that night, but he had been shot in the back and leg. He walked slowly, and the crimson blood dripped down the path behind him until he lost consciousness. When he woke up again, the faces in front of him changed to the familiar Karadians. He was unconscious, and heard only the familiar accents around him, which told him that he had been rescued and that he was now in Zegasi. A startling, unreal fear enveloped him, and he cried out like a madman, "Only me, only me, none of them survived!" Not many people took his words seriously, but looked at him with mockery at his crazy look, and it was not until a few days later that they saw a large number of refugees at the entrance of the village, and they looked in amazement at the man they thought was insane, but now silent.

In fact, he didn't do anything, he just lived out of instinct. He tries to forget everything, happy, sad, cruel or decisive. But who can let the so-called time be gone? No matter how indifferent the so-called memory becomes, the image of that tragic night often appears vividly in front of his eyes, as if it no longer existed as a memory, that night was detached from his memory, and became a symbol of all his panic and uneasiness. When he heard the miserable groans of civilians in the distance, saw the roaring fires burning in the sky, smelled some kind of bloody smell, and touched the cold stones and trees, the night stirred in his mind. He survived in such a situation, the illusion of survival instinct and spiritual fear, and he went deeper and deeper into his heart, he had no one to talk to, but he no longer had the luxury of talking.

I don't know how long it was, when he hadn't heard the sound of swords colliding for a long time, and hadn't heard the cries of the civilians, he came out of the forest and came to Zegasi almost in the guise of a savage, startling the villagers. His hair was long and messy, his beard was disheveled, and the expression in his eyes was complex and indifferent. He hadn't spoken for a long time, so he couldn't speak fluently, but the villagers understood what he meant, and they knew that this was a Karadian fleeing the war. They took him in and helped him build a small wooden house at the entrance of the village, spread some hay, and he lived there ever since. His face showed a remarkable aging, but his physical strength had not yet shown a significant decline. He began to help the villagers, and then he helped the village to run merchants, and gradually accumulated some property. He enlarged his house a bit, there were a few large rooms, he bought some land, and it seemed that he was back to the life he had had been so many years ago, and only he knew that that expectation was impossible. He grew old day by day, and on the contrary, the flame of revenge in his heart grew stronger day by day, and the fuel was his energy and life. At that time, the Kugit were expelled from the steppe, just as the Karad had done. The aging middle-aged man had played several times in the encirclement and suppression of the army, and the Empire had awarded him a medal, but the flames were beyond his control and seemed to burn out until his death.

When Porcha and Ferjans came to Zegazi and knocked on the old man's door, he was thinking in confusion about his life experience. When he opened the door, he put those thoughts aside, for he saw Porcha's face and his shield and knife, and he looked at Porcha coldly, and Porcha stepped aside in embarrassment, allowing Ferjans to explain his intentions, and the old man heard the handsome Rhodok lad's words, and his face softened slightly, and let them in.

He arranged a hut for Porcha and Feuerners, and the two of them went in to rest. They didn't wake up until noon, and the old man prepared some lunch for them and told them to come to the diner. Porcha and Feuerjans came to the dining room and thanked the old man repeatedly. The old man did not speak, but left silently.

"Let's eat something first. ”

Feljans also stopped talking, and began to eat the bread in silence, his impression was still that of last night, and there was a peculiar enthusiasm in Porcha's voice, as if there was still a certain sound when the bonfire was about to end. He remembered his mother's few words about Porcha, and the image of a big, ruffian child with a fake hippie smile would often come to his eyes, rather than the man who was too old.

Just as Feljans was amazed at the mighty and suffocating power of time, Porcha slowly broke the bread and ate it bit by bit, the decisions and actions of yesterday had already consumed a lot of his energy, and he hoped that after a good rest, he would still be able to use his experience to protect the young man in front of him. As he gazed at the young poet, his gentle blue eyes and gentle movements, he always remembered the man he had seen in the corner in the corner on that fine noon day many years ago, when he had led them into the tavern of Sagoth. Leonshiro went over to talk to him, and he timidly glanced at him from time to time. He remembered that the man was also mild-mannered, but he looked particularly depressed in drunkenness. He noticed the same cowardice and indescribable distress in him. In the end, Leon gave the man a sum of money but did not let him join their team, and Porcha only vaguely heard that he was a down-and-out merchant but did not even hear his name. Porcha could never forget the shy, grateful look on the face of the merchant as they left, and he only thought that he might have had the same look on his face in the first place. So his mentality became more complicated, and he could always see some vague shadows of the past in Feljans, but it was very unreal. He thought to himself as he broke the bread without stopping, and then the man's shy eyes appeared in front of him. He felt that the vitality of his life often depended on these erratic things, which may be dangerous.

After they had slowly finished their lunch, Porcha felt that his fatigue was far from gone, but he still bred up his spirits to tell Feljans about the past that he had talked about. In two months, he drove out four robbers and received five invitations. One by one, the royal messengers, dressed in magnificent uniforms on tall horses, came to Kedrk, with their trademark smiles and the king's handwritten letterhead, reciting in different languages the names that symbolized power and glory at the time: Saiga, Yargrok, Hakim, Ragnar, Graves. Eventually, they all brought back the envelope and belt with a gloomy face, and Rayon politely and simply declined all of their invitations, until a month later, when news of Rhyth's attack on Krana and Fort Ahuen arrived at the same time as a messenger claiming to be the kingdom of Svadia. The messenger rode only a thin traveling horse, and his clothes were very plain, but his majestic expression and solemn tone were unquestionable proof of his Messenger's identity. He brought with him a letter from King Haraus and the most familiar knightly belt in the kingdom of Svadia. The letter stated that it was hoped that Leon would immediately go and swear allegiance to King Harlaus, with earnest and majestic words, and that Kderk would become Rayon's domain. Rayon didn't hesitate, and didn't seem to have any emotional swings, as if he already knew it was going to happen. He only explained the matter to everyone lightly, and asked Fatis to stay in Kdelk with them, while he himself went to Tyrk with the messenger. When he returned, the sun was slowly sinking, and his figure looked small and weak in the field, and behind him were more than twenty Swadian recruits, behind whom pack horses were full of armor and weapons.