Do something, don't do something.

Curt has always believed that moderation is a good virtue and a necessary spirit to maintain order. Most things in this world can be categorized as "doable" or "can't" – but even if they do, they don't necessarily have to be done.

The "flowers" that appeared not far away made Curt fall into thought, he really didn't expect the other party to make such an exaggerated big toy. If it is allowed to unfold according to the other party's plan, it will not be simple "news" - it will definitely lead to a major disaster.

Curt felt that every step of his actions had been anticipated by the other party, and no matter what he struggled to, he would plunge headlong into the hands of the other party that he had prepared in advance. The endless pitfalls have left them in a quagmire, and the more they struggle, the deeper they will sink and the more difficult they will be to extricate themselves.

Why is it that no matter what the police officers do, they are all aware of each other, and even make corresponding changes to what they do?

If it weren't for the fact that this qiē was planned in advance, and no matter what the security officer did, he would simply push forward with their plan, it would mean that there was a hidden eyeliner in the vicinity. But the actions of the security officers do not need to be concealed, and it is not surprising that they will be exposed.

At least hundreds of people had gathered in the surrounding area, in addition to security officers and other investigators, newspaper reporters whom they had never met, and a few citizens who had been taken from their homes on the outskirts. Trying to find each other's eyeliner from this number is tantamount to looking for a needle in a haystack.

Curt's gaze swept over the faces he didn't recognize, and the expressions on their faces were not much different from their identities. The guards were busy with their work, the reporters were preoccupied with their headlines, and the residents were looking at their houses with concern.

There is nothing out of the ordinary, at least on the surface.

Then look at the bud that slowly raised its head from the residue. It has no tendency to bloom yet, but only shows a little bit of its head in the gray branches. The plants are not completely silent, and there are still some green vines around, and those white flowers are still blooming.

At the same time as it blooms, some flowers are already beginning to change. The white petals are eroded by black and then gradually wither. Eventually, it withered and scattered. It is also unclear whether it is a coincidence or not, but as the trumpet flower withered, the huge bud gradually rose from the surrounding wreckage, showing its own existence.

It's like a deliberate countdown.

Extrapolating the effects of those small flowers, the threat of that flower enveloped at least a few neighborhoods, and it might be too late to mobilize manpower to expand the quarantine zone -- as long as newspaper reporters were still hurrying to search for news from farther away.

"Sir—can you see it? There's a big guy popping up of the plant. Curt shouted to the security officer below, who was still pestering with the reporters. "Just in case, it's better to expand the quarantine area a bit, or have a wizard come and help!"

Curt's shouting successfully distracted some of the reporters, and their eyes turned to the dryads more than half a block away. The dense white flowers on the dryad that crushed the entire building immediately attracted their attention, and the large bud that gradually emerged became the focus of the camera's flash. The sound of clattering is endless, and the image of the large bud is constantly sealed into a small box.

It was like a carnival, and the reporters with all kinds of cameras ignored the dissuasion of the security officers, preferring to get closer to get a better angle. Their professionalism can no longer be described as dedicated, and their eyes are clearly burning with a feverish fire.

If it weren't for the fact that the block in front of him was covered in toxic gases, Curt would have dared to pack a ticket, and these reporters would have rushed to the vicinity of the plant to get the photos at their own risk. Even now, there are some daring reporters who want to take advantage of the chaos to sneak into the quarantine.

The same thing in the eyes of different people means different things.

When the reporters saw the huge bud, their first reaction was indeed "this is unprecedented news". But in the eyes of the security officers who had already smoked dozens of teammates with the poisonous gas from the plant, that thing was undoubtedly a frightening nuisance.

The security officer who replaced Grostide gritted his teeth and muttered, faintly hearing him saying, "Damn...... How far does this thing want to go before it stops?"

Presumably he was very unwilling. The expression on his face completely betrayed the anger in his heart. The security officers of the same team were sent to the hospital by the poisonous gas of the tree spirit, and the people they wanted to protect were not at peace, and these reporters who did not know the severity of the situation caused chaos at the scene...... Now the culprit still wants to take advantage of the situation to pursue.

"Okay, okay, if you want to get the material, go yourself!" he waved away the hand of the reporter who was still trying to extract information from him, and hurriedly walked to the side of the security officers who had gathered nearby and said to them, "Expand the quarantine zone! It's no longer safe around here." At least one more block of quarantine!"

However, it seems that there is no longer such a need, and unexpected reinforcements have arrived on the scene.

"Words have power. The will carries the mind. ”

A low chorus of chanting came from the other side of the street, and several men in black and white robes approached slowly, led by an old man. Each of them held a heavy book with a black cover in their hands. The title page had been opened, and the words in the pages shimmered red as they recited.

Just by looking at the uniforms, these were the scribes who belonged to the Royal Scrivener's Bureau—people who manipulated words with magic and harnessed the power contained in them. They are not civilians without combat effectiveness, books are their weapons, and words are their strength.

It was not Curt's expectation that such a writer would come to support, and the distribution of the Royal Scrivener's Office was more than half a city from here. They were able to get over now, apparently before they were engulfed by the massive plant, and they were told to send a combat-ready member to come to their aid.

The big black book in the hands of these scribes was supposed to be a copy of a certain magic book, although it was not as full of offensive magic as the original text, but it was more conducive to the control of magic power. Under the joint operation of the scribes. It can also wield a power close to that of the original book.

They recited in unison, the words of the book, and the power that dwelt within: "When the horizon fell into darkness, I saw the flames coming from the sky. The fire was thrown into the end of the earth, and in an instant the heavens, the earth, and the sea boiled. Everything in the world is like a candle of fire......"

Rhythmic words flowed from their mouths, the pages were torn open, and red dots of light floated on the pale pages, and an unpredictable scene flowed out of them—just like the verses of poetry in their mouths.

The wind had long since stopped, and the pages that flew out of the book seemed to have life and will, and flew around the plants on the other side under the tuit of some force that could not be captured by sight. They surround the plant. Wraps up a mass of costumes that resemble a circle, hovering around the target in subtle motion.

"On the other side of the golden clouds, a spiral of dragons and snakes jumped in the sea of flames, and the flames ignited from the north, devouring everything they could touch......

Chanting endlessly. The pages of the books that had been manipulated by the scribes also burned with the content of their chantings, and the flames were locked in circles, and the outer pages of the book turned into flames in an instant. The burning words break free from the bound pages of the book, and they leap towards the rising buds.

In a matter of moments, the huge plant was gnawed by a mass of textual flames. Even if the toxins scattered from it could poison approaching creatures, it would not have any effect on lifeless flames. The erupting flames ignited anything that could be touched.

Dense sequences of words continued to fly out of the burning pages. The pages of the book wrap around the courtyard that has been turned into purgatory, separating the inside from the outside. The blazing flames burned the building materials and plants that had been piled up in the courtyard. The crimson flames swirled upward, and on the other side of the smoke was the white sky that exposed the belly of the fish.

The matter has finally come to an end. Later, the scribes who came to the top became the embodiment of justice. The garrison, which had suffered heavy losses, was not pleased, and it seemed that the credit for this mission was about to be taken away by others. But this is also a helpless thing, only simple weapons equipped with them are completely unable to compete with high-strength monsters. This weakness is even more pronounced when the enemy is a monster that can use a large area of living units to strike.

Under the premise of similar conditions, there is no way for ordinary people to compete with individuals with special abilities, and the contrast in intensity is too obvious.

But what is the purpose of the other party?

Tonight's actions were like being led by the nose by the other party, and so far Curt still can't think of a reasonable answer to explain the other party's action goals.

One thing is for sure. If they are allowed to get what they want, it will not only be the people of the neighborhood who will suffer. The city of Cutrice would also suffer a disgrace. In any city, even the inhabitants of the city walls will be devoured by monsters. Then its reliability will be deeply questioned.

However, Curt and Grostide's men became the targets of the other party, and Curt could not think of an answer. The enemy was still hiding in the shadows, and he didn't even know what their goal was. It is dangerous to continue to act, and it is very likely to touch the trap laid by the opponent again.

This time it's the dryads and toxins that have spread across several blocks, but what about next?

Riots, violence, assaults...... These things may be around you in the next second. It is unclear what they will gain from this, but their actions are undoubtedly deliberately undermining the stability of order in the city and spurring the pains of a new order that gradually changed after the war.

Order does not necessarily mean justice, and justice does not necessarily mean goodness - and even "justice" is not necessarily "justice" that everyone can agree with. But at least in the minds of most people, the indiscriminate targeting of civilians is not in any way just.

But for those people, justice or something, maybe they don't care about it at all.

In his three years as a mercenary, this was perhaps the first task that really gave Curt a real headache, and he felt that he was not dealing with a group of people, but a well-organized group.

He didn't want to be alone against a group that dared to declare war on almost every force in Cutrice. (To be continued).

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