Although there are legends about the creation of God in the hearts of the people on the pan-continent, in fact, there is no authoritative history that clearly records the situation when God himself came to the world, in the pan-continent, the only person who can listen to God's direct gaze is the Pope, believers sincerely believe in this, so in their ears, the Pope's decree is higher than a qiē. However, there are also not so devout people in this world, or in a sense the biggest and most powerful rebels of the Church, who are the magicians who control the magic.

Now the pan-continent is that the church and the feudal rulers have united to keep the magicians who should have more power in their own domains and serve them, and even with their transcendent status, most magicians have to depend on the nobility to survive. Even the Wizards' Guild had to prefix their titles with the royal prefix of Britannia in order not to be defined as heretics by the Church and to survive under the fence.

"After all, the clergy of the Church who work all day long rely on the power of prayer, because it is easier than learning magic to become a holy sorcerer who recites all day, which makes it difficult for magic to develop on this continent, but what if the source of their strength is wiped out?"

With his hand slid lightly over his neck, Barack smiled playfully and uttered wild words that would make anyone want to send him to an insane asylum.

"Are you kidding us?"

Nagi's mouth was wide open, he could hardly believe his slap, and he was crazy enough to claim that he wanted to pull the god into the mortal world, and he even wanted to kill the god if he wanted to kill the god?

"Do you think I'm the kind of person who likes to joke?"

Sneering and asking rhetorically, Barack turned his head and turned his gaze to the almost unchanged steppe scenery outside the window, no matter how much Nagi asked, it seemed that he had lost interest in the matter and no longer revealed anything.

The sunset grassland around the imperial capital is indeed a good place for citizens to go on a weekday outing, but the sunset grassland backed by the Yangyan Mountains is also a huge land that stretches for thousands of miles.

The coachmen were reluctant to take the southwest route for a reason, not only because of the lack of opportunities to make money on this inaccessible route, but more importantly, the frequent horse bandits liked to see the lone carriages and travelers who were not armed with guards like caravans and who dared to play with their lives to protect their goods.

"Phew~"

Pulling the reins hard, pressing down his straw hat, the old coachman's cloudy eyes exuded an incredible fierce light, although he had deliberately chosen the safest route and the way to set off in the middle of the night and rest at noon, he could still be caught, but it seemed fortunate that unlike the usual crowds, there was only one rider in a black cloak who stopped in front of his carriage.

At the intersection of natural enemies in the eastern part of the grassland, the round sun was only halfway up, and it stands to reason that unless there was accurate information, it would be impossible for the horse bandits to patrol so early. However, since the old coachman dared to take this job, he naturally had his self-confidence, and did not alarm the sleeping passengers in the carriage, he put his hand to the scimitar pinned to his waist, and secretly looked at the horse bandit in front of him with eyes hidden by the shadow of the brim. This knife was the trophy he had scavenged from the corpses of horse bandits, and he usually maintained them well, and with a single wave, he could cut a person's throat.

The horse bandit who stopped in front of the car did not seem to have the intention of running away to report the news, which made the old coachman breathe a sigh of relief, it seemed that this young guy seemed to want to make a windfall and monopolize the property on the car, however, he was not the kind of timid young master or young lady who ran out of a hurry and ran out to take risks.

The other man drove the docile black mare under his crotch, and approached the carriage little by little, his short stature, not like a strong man who had been grazing in the grassland all the year round, and when he got closer, he drew his weapon from the cloak that surrounded his whole body as if he remembered something, not the scimitar that the old coachman had imagined, but a short sword that glittered in the morning light.

"Money. ”

He wore a black yarella hat with a black yarmullene decorated with an expensive black gauze of Ottoman, and the muffled pronunciation came from under the black veil that completely covered his entire face, although it was not known where he got this noble luxury, but when the old coachman saw the rider's body trembling uncontrollably, his tense face finally relaxed.

"This man, please don't kill me, I'll bring you the money bag in the car. ”

Taking off the straw hat on his head, revealing his frightened face huddled underneath, the old coachman's voice trembled, like a frightened old man who had never seen the world before, and slumped over to grab a bag that was placed beside him, and limped away to the rider who was parked not far in front of the carriage.

"Hmm. ”

There was another vague response, and the rider almost didn't think about it before he believed the old coachman's words, which could not help but make the old coachman's face look down with a sneer of pity, what a foolishness, a little thought about it, where would anyone put the money bag on the pedal next to the coachman? It seems that his guess is not wrong, this guy is not an experienced horse bandit spy, he just doesn't know which horse bandit leader wants to run out and do something earth-shattering without any worldly affairs, so what about it......

"You, you take it. ”

Holding the bag with his right hand to deliver these worthless dry food to the other party, the left hand hidden in the blind spot of the other party on the horse quietly pulled out the scimitar on his waist little by little, the old coachman is a natural backhand, which is commonly known as left-handed. It's really not a big deal, but in a pinch, people tend to focus most of their attention on your right hand movements and ignore your inflexible left hand.

"Die!"

Taking advantage of the gap between the other party's hand and the bag, the old coachman's body suddenly burst out with amazing power, only to see him jump up with a violent roar, and his bent left arm drew a beautiful curve at an incredible speed, and the sharp scimitar flashing with cold light was accurately aimed at the opponent's most vulnerable throat, which is a more deadly position than the heart, because even if the heart is pierced, people can still burst out at the last moment, but if the throat and carotid artery are cut, the blood gushing upwards will instantly deprive people of vision, and then, the person who instinctively covers his neck will not have any power to fight back。

"Phew—"

However, just when the old coachman was about to succeed, the black mare under the rider's crotch, which had always been very docile, suddenly let out a neigh, raised its two front legs high and lifted its master up, and evaded the old coachman's surprise attack.