Gray buildings line the road tightly, casting dark shadows in the moonlight. The shadow like a black giant reveals a nameless sense of oppression.

Countless cobweb-like cracks appeared on the walls that had begun to deteriorate over the years, and there were many traces of water leaks up and down, wetting the walls one after another. The buildings in the neighborhood are all in this stormy manner, and even the streets of the old town, which are "symbolized" by the old buildings, may be more dilapidated than anyone else.

It's a fork in the road north of Strand Street, where the last tree was born, and is one of the few most marginal neighborhoods on the edge of Catrice City. The gaps left behind the back of the old buildings gradually connect to a laneway that connects the blocks.

Outside, the main road is lined with high-end restaurants and clothing stores, and there are occasionally a few well-known exhibition halls. Recently, it seems that a certain painter has held a solo exhibition in one of the galleries, and people dressed in high society clothes can always be seen on the side of the main road.

Of course, that's a "common" sight on the main roads. This is the back street, one of those scattered areas that lurks beneath the glossy exterior. Garbage was scattered all over the floor, and there was foul-smelling stagnant water coming out of nowhere.

Each building is old, mostly cheap apartments or mixed houses, and a few shops that look like representatives of poor management. They are probably mainly aimed at low-income people, and their stores are full of third-rate inferior goods. Or the wool cooker looks like an imitation commodity.

In Curt's experience, in a shop on such a small road, you can buy all-you-can-eat meat for a family for a few dollars. And as long as ten yuan, you can drink until you get drunk. Of course, these products are not limited to quality, or even whether they are healthy to eat.

However, people who have the energy to care about these things probably won't come into this place to buy things, as if the things that are stored in these places are designed for the people who store them here. Compared to the dilapidated old town, the style seems to have risen a lot in an instant.

To put it bluntly, this is a slum.

Luxury commercial city of Catrice. That's what the other side of it looks like. The vicious cycle of the poor getting poorer and the rich getting richer is constantly playing out in the city, and perhaps occasionally the lucky ones emerge from the toiling masses. But there are only a handful of such people.

Today, however, the situation seems to be a bit unusual, and a group of people have appeared in a neighborhood that is supposed to be only poor residents. Men and women dressed in well-tailored suits gathered here, and about forty or so people filled the road, forming a thick wall of people.

On the other side of the human wall. There are also crowds of people who watch the excitement. Rough shoes. The simple shirts, the men with messy stubble, and the women all face the sky, all of whom are residents of this alley. Probably because it was rare to see such a lively scene, even the old woman with a woolen jacket on her pajamas ran out and squinted at the noisy crowd with chaotic eyes on the side.

Curt slowed down his walk and walked slowly, and the reporters from the various newspapers blocked all the roads in front of him. He squeezed into the human wall. Slowly separate a path with your hands. At the end of the human wall is a security officer pulling a no-passage cloth. Ahead is the area where the garrison is isolated.

Seeing Curt walking over slowly, the security officer just gave him a look, and Curt, who understood it, consciously handed his identification card to the security officer. During this time, he was in the garrison, and many of the officers knew him, and he was facilitated by Grostide's briefing before entering the hospital.

"I didn't expect things to go even faster than I expected. After forking off the road into the residential area, Curt's expression was quite relaxed before he saw the scene in front of him, "And those reporters don't know how to restrain themselves...... Or is the so-called scoop so important?"

The road is lined with the facades of buildings, and the remaining space is so narrow that it is not enough for cars to get through. Now squeezed into a dense crowd, it will be even more watery. Even if a pedestrian wants to get through guò, he has to weigh his body shape and think about it.

"This ...... How do you say it...... It would be much better if they weren't. Hearing Curt's teasing, the security officer who let him into the lockdown area hesitated, "But this time it's a little different...... The first person is a reporter who belongs to the Highway Daily. ”

This answer is a good explanation for why so many newspaper reporters are gathered here. Since the first person is not a member of the garrison, news that has not been blocked will flow out very quickly, especially when the major newspapers are paying for such news that is likely to make headlines.

"Ask the on-site supervisor for details, they should already have some results there. He pointed to the scene behind him, then glanced at the reporters who were staring at the scene and said, "I'm going to stop these guys so they don't cause any more trouble." ”

The so-called "scene" is the end of the narrow alley, and the small open space that may have once been a place for children to play in these slums, but has now been taken over by something that does not fit the atmosphere of the place. They surrounded the clearing, as if spreading an air of uneasiness.

Several men in gray overalls were standing around the scene and investigating, and one of them hurried over after seeing Curt.

"You're Curt Leinst, I've heard Inspector Beate mention that all the work on our team during your time has depended on your help. He straightened up and saluted Curt, "I'm the overseer of this investigation site, you can call me Gili."

The man was a strong, dark-skinned man, probably a little taller than Curt if he stood up straight. His chest was strong, and his wrists were thick from his sleeves. On the chest of that overalls was sewn the name "Yujili", which was undoubtedly his surname.

"Ah, hello, I'm Curt Leinst. ”

Curt nodded, and saluted him back, "Maybe you don't remember, but we should have had a relationship with that giant monster on the highway before." At the time, you seemed to be investigating the metal fragments that had been peeled off the monster with Beat. ”

"Huh...... I'm sorry that I was paying attention to the drops and didn't notice anything about you. Well...... I'm sorry, but I'm sorry for that, but I'm sure you'll want to know why we asked you to come over to help with the investigation. ”

In an instant, the expression of the on-site supervisor who claimed to be by Geely condensed, and his eyes looked a little shaken. Although he quickly brushed it off on other topics, it didn't escape Curt's eyes. But he was right, and Curt was more curious about why he had been called by the guards.

After all, it's 1:4 a.m., a time when ordinary people have already fallen asleep.

It's been a busy day, and it's almost evening, and when it gets close, Lizzie and Oscar go to the Wygienas Abbey, and Curt thinks he's done enough for the day. I didn't expect to be called to a corner of this slum in the middle of the night.

However, when he saw the thing in the scene surrounded by these staff, this question was answered without being explained by Geely.

It is a familiar "painting", in which the artist depicts a strangely shaped dial with scattered blood, and the weak limbs of the deceased become "hands".

It's a recreation of Lizzie's tragic situation, but the subject is replaced by an elderly Slot. The black iron spear was embedded in the old man's emaciated body, fixing him in the shape of pointing to six o'clock, and his head was cut open, and everything inside was gone.

In the evening, when the reinforcements sent by the academy arrived at the ruins of the monastery, Curt had already handed them all the black iron spears that had been pulled from Lizzie's body. If the work of the academy was smooth, the appearance of those black iron spears should have been delivered to the garrison as evidence.

In this way, there is nothing surprising, Curt is the "presenter" of this black iron spear, and the guard probably thinks he knows more, so they called him. If the purpose of the "True Eye" is to "make the major forces in Catrice City anxious", Curt dares to say that they have achieved phased results, and if they continue to exert pressure for a while, the garrison will not be the only one who is exhausted.

Since the last time the appearance of tree spirits in a residential area was hyped up by various newspapers, the garrison has also stepped up patrols in areas that were once a security corner. But this vicious massacre of the Slots appeared under their noses, and the first person to appear was the newspaper reporter, and it was foreseeable that it would not be long before the headlines of the major newspapers in Cutrice were again criticizing the garrison.

However, this tragic situation is even worse than that of Lizzie at the time, if it is said that Lizzie's appearance at that time was interrupted by Curt and the others in the middle of the process, and became a half-finished product. Then this "painting" is definitely another "artistic creation" of the black-robed mage.

The kind of "pathology" that Lizzie refers to has not only not been subdued, but has a tendency to become more and more intense. He had just suffered a setback near the academy today, and he had personally dropped the chips of the True Eye and Curt trades...... Now that he had created a new victim so quickly, there was something to vent his anger in.

If these madmen do not perish, it will be difficult for the Cathars, whom they regard as their target, to enjoy peace again. (To be continued......)

Tips: The new domain name "biquge.info" has been launched by Biquge, and the original domain name is about to be discontinued. Please tell each other, thank you!