Odin was a little embarrassed. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

He sat on the damp stones of the forest, his black robe stained with muddy water, and gray-white dirt stained the sleeves and hem of his coat.

The overuse of the Origin Power caused him to suffer excruciating pain all over his body, as if every bone had been broken, every cell was burning, and every step had spikes piercing into the muscles. In addition, the wounds wounded by the monks and knights in the city of Paliwa two days ago have not healed because of the miasma in the jungle, and blood is oozing from time to time - it really makes him feel bad.

It was just the most ordinary moment in the 25 years of the run. Countless times he has survived the face of enemies that are several times more powerful and on the verge of despair.

But now, he faces a life-and-death crisis.

He waved his hands and looked at the overly pale skin—a body that was too fragile for a demon. At the age of twenty-five, the other demons are just chaotic and ignorant babies.

As early as six years ago, Odin sensed the power of the Origin, and if he went back three years, he could easily burn these low-level demons who were chasing him. But manipulating power had put a heavy burden on his body, so much so that now he was struggling to deal with even a group of human monks.

This is really an unsolvable problem - the power of the demons, the human body. Theoretically, he is going through a dangerous stage of growth, and only by obtaining a strong external force can he subvert his bodily functions, but this is only Yusus's speculation.

Because of this, he became more and more fascinated by human civilization – human beings are adept at using delicate tools to make weak individuals gain enormous energy. They use equipment to make up for their strength, use magic circles to expand their weak perceptions, and use conspiracy more than force to subvert the regime.

Taking the right risk, paying the least and getting the most out of it – he began to get used to the human mind.

With a pawn, let him become an agent of his own human society.

He smiled, gently patted the dirt off the corners of his clothes, tugged at his hat again, changed to a more relaxed position, closed his eyes and leaned against the stump—he was waiting for someone.

The erosion of the black moon has passed, and the sun has returned on this day.

It was only after noon that the sun dispelled the fog and slanted into the forest. The mottled shadows of the leaves made the black-robed man almost hide it.

At the other end of the woods, the sound of boots stomping on the grass and trees could be heard.

It looks like a team of mercenaries. At the head was a pale-faced young man, about thirty years of age, wrapped in sackcloth and wearing long leather boots, and his exposed skin was covered with blue-gray veins—which made him look very unhealthy. His long, narrow eyes were bloodshot, the bridge of his nose was constricted, and his lips were pursed tightly, as if he was suppressing strong emotions.

The crutches in his hand and the weapon at his waist reveal his worth—at the top of the crutch is a scorpion totem, the tail of the scorpion extending downward, and the intricate patterns are intertwined, looking more like a magic circle. The long sword at his waist was wrapped in rags, but it could not hide the shiny steel of the hilt and the conspicuous scorpion pattern.

In the words of the Sunset Empire, this is a nobleman, a monk, and a samurai.

Behind him were a group of genuine outlaws—axes and swords pinned to their waists, their clothes covered in thick dirt that looked like blood, and scars all over their bodies.

They walked over to the stone where the black-robed man was lying.

"Look, there's someone here!" roared a bearded man, apparently not in the imperial Chinese language.

"Like a dead man!" replied another tall, thin middle-aged man, with a halberd in his hand.

A brown-skinned mercenary with one eye pushed aside his colleague who was in the way, and reached into the collar of the black-robed man.

"Ha, you Mancas will only make a fortune from the dead!" the dwarf standing on the periphery threw a dagger and shouted, "At least make sure he is really a dead man!"

Suddenly, the black-robed man lying on his side opened his eyes, his pure black pupils glowing like obsidian, startling the group of outlaws who had gathered around him—but only for a moment.

The brown-skinned one-eyed man immediately pointed his knife at the black-robed man's throat.

"Stop! We're going to get to our destination before dark, killing will get us in trouble. Seeing that the tip of the knife was about to cut through the collar, the leader on crutches suddenly gave an order.

"He's not a Paliwa. The lord of Paliva has no power to prevent us from doing anything to him. The one-eyed mercenary did not put down his dagger, picked up the collar of the black-robed man, and bared his teeth: "The Manca people are not in the habit of giving up their immediate wealth. ”

The moment the mercenary raised his dagger, the young leader raised his cane, starting from the scorpion's tail, and the entire wooden staff was surrounded by green mist, spreading out in all directions.

The one-eyed mercenary seemed to be grabbed by the throat, panting desperately, his blood vessels getting thicker and thicker, and his face gradually turned to dead ashes. He released the dagger and collar from his hand, and the whole person rolled on the ground.

The black-robed man fell back onto the rock, he slowly stood up, stretched his limbs, and was not at all alarmed by what had just happened, as if the brutal behavior of the Manka mercenaries just now had only woken him up from his sleep.

He lifted his hat and smiled, "Why, heir of Paliva, Lord Carter Larson, have you brought in a bunch of barbarians who eat raw meat, ready to overthrow the gods and avenge their father?"

The leader glanced at the black-robed man and saw that it was only a very beautiful young man in his teens, so his eyebrows furrowed and his pupils narrowed—a sign of extreme unease.

Revealing your whereabouts before arriving in the city of Paliwa is extremely dangerous. He is faced with two choices: to clear the danger or to observe the purpose of the comer, the latter of which will lead him to a greater crisis before reaching his destination.

"Stupid—" The young man raised his hand and pointed at Carter Larson, "you are going to take them into the city, join the knights of the Larsen family, take the body, and put it in front of the temple to chant the innocence of Grand Duke Paliva?"

Then the young man in the black robe laughed, his pure black eyes were very bright, and even the strands of his hair were shining: "You deserve to be crucified upside down like your father, just because of your stupid ......"

"I can see the knights wearing the scorpion insignia, what they think in their hearts, but how many imperial gold coins can be obtained by selling you to the Sanctuary Inquisition. ”

"Those golden currencies...... It will fall into the hands of the best escort in the city of Paliva......" the young man still smiled very brightly.

This person's beautiful appearance and frivolous tone are easy to give people the impression of arrogance and childishness - like the kind of aristocratic son who is not deeply involved in the world, loves rumors, and likes to come up with stupid ideas.

Carter Larson no longer hesitated, raised his wooden staff, and the vigorous green mist steamed in front of the young man. He began to chant the hymn, and the green gas took the shape of a scorpion, coiled in the center of the staff, its tail erected, and swept towards the provocative enemy.

Carter knew that, at least in the southern part of the empire, even mages were afraid of his attacks. Theoretically, the fragile young man would have been poisoned in front of him in less than ten seconds.

The poison gas covered the black-robed man's face tightly, but he just stood upright - then raised his right hand and drew a circle in the air, and the green mist settled into small droplets and fell on the grass, causing the circle of weeds at his feet to quickly wither.

Carter was shocked by this move—he knew that his previous judgment had been wrong, and he was like a child's play in front of the young man. And the young man's spell casting methods looked very different from any mage in the empire. Where did he come from, and for what purpose?

But at the moment, the most important thing is that the offensive act just now has cut off the possibility of negotiations...... What would have been an extremely risky action could be completely destroyed......

Thinking of this, a fine layer of sweat oozed from Carter's forehead.

However, the black-robed man did not seem to be angered by Carter and the mercenary team's reckless actions, and still looked at him with a smile: "Let's make a bet, if you lose, let me be your mercenary, and I will fulfill your wish." ”

Carter was neither impulsive nor as stupid as the black-robed man made it out to be, he was just—too desperate in the midst of the embattled Sunset Empire's struggle, and at this point he seemed unusually nervous and nervous.

He put away the staff inherited by his family, and his face was awe-inspiring: "You...... Who the hell is it. ”

The black-robed young man smiled and raised his hand behind Carter, "We bet that your barbarians are no match for these devourers. ”

Following the other party's gaze, Carter Larson slowly looked behind him - only to find that dozens of pairs of purple eyes, in the middle of the jungle, were staring at them. And he and his mercenaries were unaware of this! In an instant, his heart stopped beating several beats.

A beast peeked out of the grass, he had never seen anything like it—a wolf-like lizard-like creature, with dense bulging vesicles, pinprick-like manes, and faintly purple skin.

The black-robed people are very familiar with these animals, they are low-level demons hidden in the Twin Moon Continent, called "Ghost Eaters", attracted by the livers of the dead, and eat carrion, but now they are mad because of the smell of their own blood.

The Eater bared its teeth, its purple pupils constricted into a line, and before the outlaws could react, they pounced on one of them.

As soon as the short mercenary drew his dagger, his throat was torn open by sharp teeth, and his whole body was crushed under the devourer, his throat was pierced with a large hole, blood splattered several meters away, and his nerves still controlled his hands and legs twitching.

Blood spurred the beasts, and more purple monsters emerged from the jungle, their snorts and whispers echoing everywhere.