Kenny felt a chill run down his spine, and what made him shiver was a voice, a voice he knew all too well. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

He heard it well, it was indeed Allen's voice, and there was nothing false about it, because it was all too familiar to him, and he began to try to talk to him.

"Alan?" he thought for a long time, but still only called out the name of his companion.

"Oh-", the familiar voice let out a long sigh, "Oh my God, Kenny, oh my God!"

"Where are you?" "Where are you?"

Two voices exited almost simultaneously.

"Damn, let me calm down, what the hell is going on, tell me, where are you?" asked Allen's voice anxiously.

"Damn it, I'm right next to you. Kenny turned to look at the corpse on the table, "I'm sorry, I mean, I'm standing by your corpse." ”

"Corpses?" Alan's voice turned mournful, "You mean, that beautiful girl killed me?"

"That's a banshee, she's stripped you of your soul, but don't worry, now that we've found a spirit caller who will bring back your spirit, how much do you remember?" Kenny reassured.

"I remember that we were in the monastery, and I belittled the beautiful girl in order to snatch Eugene's translation manuscript, for which I apologized, and then fell unconscious, perhaps as a punishment from the god Namu. But just now, I heard someone calling out to me, and then I heard your voice, it's cold here, Kenny. Allen's voice murmured.

"Don't worry, I'm sure this wizard will be able to bring back your soul soon. Also, you're from the Dalton family, the word cold shouldn't come out of your mouth, it's a shame!" Kenny finished and left the wolf pendant with his right hand.

He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the corpse lying on the table, the big stone in his heart lowering slightly. Then, he turned his gaze to the evoker in front of him.

"Thank you!" he said, "the previous indifference was all due to the fake wizard last night, and I hope you won't mind." ”

"You're serious, my lord. Locke placed the wolf pendant on the table, his face still calm.

"I guess you haven't had dinner yet, right?" Kenny turned to his chair, "Sit down, have a bite to eat, and I'll need a favor from you later." ”

"Thank you for your trust, my lord. Locke sat down next to Kenny.

Halfway through dinner, Sercy, under Kenny's instructions, went to the prison to interrogate Eugene overnight, and according to Locke's request, if they wanted to retrieve Allen's spirit, they had to find a wive's belongings, and now only Eugene knew where to find it.

Kenny watched Selcey's departing back, picked up his glass and poured the rest of the crimson liquid into his mouth, the sweet and sour taste swirling on his taste buds, he tilted his glass, staring at the remaining remnants of the wine in the glass, the swaying red gradually returned to calm, condensing into a small water mirror.

Through the dim candlelight in the side hall, he saw himself printed in the wine at the bottom of the glass, with the same resolute face as his father, and at this moment, the side hall was very quiet, and he began to miss his wife.

Then he pulled out a small square scarf from the breastplate of his tunic and embroidered it with vines and roses on a violet background, and among them was the peculiar lilac scent of his wife, or perhaps the smell of incense lit by his servants.

"Locke. Kenny handed the scarf to the young wizard, "I'd like to ask you to do me a favor and try to find the owner of this scarf, okay?"

Locke looked at Kenny's handkerchief, put down his glass, and took the clonew-scented object.

He seemed to have guessed that the owner of the scarf might be Lord Kenny's wife, or his daughter's personal belongings, and he could faintly smell the cloves coming from it, which was very nice and attractive.

He has done this many times, most people who know the ability of the soul summoner, will beg him to find the soul of the dead, the biggest gap between the living and the dead, is not to see each other again, this is indeed cruel, but to be able to hear their voices, this is indeed the greatest comfort for the living.

"Yes, my lord. ”

Locke finished holding the corner of the scarf and began to mumble to himself again. Kenny couldn't hear what he was chanting, maybe it was a special spell, or maybe it was just a little trick on someone else, but it didn't matter.

After a while, small beads of sweat appeared on Locke's forehead, his eyes were still closed, and his brows were tightly intertwined.

Kenny counted the passage of time in his mind, and every second passed, Kenny's heart fluttered, and he desperately wanted to hear his wife's familiar voice again, but he didn't want to hear it, he was extremely hesitant, but he couldn't show it on his face, so he could only pretend to be calm and drink the wine in his glass, trying to make this abrasive time pass faster.

After a few more moments, Locke gasped and let go of the scarf in his hand. "I'm sorry, lord. He said apologetically, "Forgive my guess, I think the owner of this scarf may still be in the world, and the spirit summoning technique cannot summon the souls of the living, and I don't have the spiritual power of demon spirits." ”

"What did you say?!" Kenny said indescribably glad, "Are you sure? She's not dead, is she?"

"Yes, I'm almost sure that the owner of this scarf is still alive, if you ....."

Kenny stood up and slapped Locke on the shoulder, causing Locke to let out a howl of pain and interrupt him.

"Oh-" Kenny looked apologetic, "I'm sorry, that's rude!" he stroked Locke's shoulder and sat back in his chair, "Honestly, Locke, this scarf belongs to my wife, I've been looking for her and don't know her life or death, you have to thank you for untying the knot that has been in my heart for a long time!" he poured a full glass of wine and saluted Locke.

Locke endured the pain in his shoulder, raised his glass, and drank the rest of the wine.

Late at night.

A gust of cold wind shivered at Kenny, who was easy to go out, and he tightened his black mink cloak and turned to walk into the Great Hall.

As he walked through the back door and approached the heavy wooden door of the side hall, a soft and long poem with strings, accompanied by a slightly familiar Sanskrit song, entered his ears.

He stood by the door and listened carefully to the moving song.

The gentle and long tone, like a conversation from a wanderer, whispers a shallow ode, slightly humble. When the piece moves from the adagio to the itinant, it is like another wanderer's complaint, with a slightly shorter tone, neither humble nor arrogant. Then, the tune shifts lightly, becoming soothing and low again, and the strings of the poem gradually overshadow the vocals, and finally only the solitary sound remains.

Kenny looked down, a hint of suspicion in his heart. (To be continued.) )