The demon hunters are experts at searching for tracks, and they have the original direction of the remaining six search teams last night.

So I started to look for it along this clue.

Clues appear quickly.

On the first route, the three of them found the cavalry of the refugee group who had gone out to look for supplies, and their bodies were lying unobstructed on the side of the road.

As a member of the Nilfgaard force, they certainly don't have to hide their traces, because who else in all of Sintra is stronger than them now?

Therefore, the three of Lan En were able to see the unscrupulous style of that group of special forces.

"He was dragged to death."

Lann crouched down and looked at the corpse's boots.

The boot had a broken rope tied to its ankle.

The men lassoed him with ropes and galloped on horseback. It took less than a hundred and fifty meters for the man's face to be wiped out. ”

"It seems that he doesn't have a lot of control over his position, and if he lands on the ground with his butt, he can live a little longer."

Gerd said on his horse, while Geralt on the other horse shook his head, rejecting his claim.

"I think he is very good at controlling his position, so he can simply face a group of abusers who will feel pleasure in torture, and living longer will only make the other party more excited."

"Hmm." Ged grunted and scratched his bearded chin, "That makes a lot of sense, too. ”

Although he can have a beautiful beard, he used to shave all of it because he was too lazy to take care of it.

But now, he hadn't had a chance to care about the hairs on his face for weeks.

The men who had dragged the cavalry on the ground to death rode back after the rope had broken and looked at it, and made sure that the 'toy' was indeed dead.

So there were blood-stained horseshoe prints.

Lan rose from the ground, grabbed a handful of dirt and rubbed it on his hands, wiping the blood off his gloves.

In the eyes of the three witchers, the cat-like pupils began to shrink at the same time.

So, a horseshoe print that glowed bright red on the road appeared in their eyes.

"Don't walk down the road, go back to the woods on the side of the road."

Rann turned away from the road, and Geralt and Gerd rode after him.

"My vision is farther than yours, I can see clearly in the forest, just follow me."

"That's pretty good, at least it won't run into a Nilfgaard patrol head-on." Ged muttered, and Geralt nodded.

——

Follow the road until you reach a fork in the road.

At this fork in the road is a small inn that, in normal times, takes care of every traveler on the road to Sintra, providing them with hot water and rest.

The royal family of Sintra also sometimes gave the hotel a subsidy to help them maintain the hotel's existence, to facilitate the movement of pedestrians on the road and the circulation of goods and economy.

Now, a wooden truck is parked in the fence of the hotel, with a whitewashed slogan that is barely visible, except for the silhouette of a man with a razor, which is a barber's mobile work car.

The owner of the workcar is now curled up by his wheels, seemingly eager to hold on to the wheels that are still stained with dog poop, bird droppings, and mud.

He was terrified.

In the hotel, most of the ugly, dirty, but durable tables and chairs, most of which had fallen apart, lay on the wooden floor of the room.

Only the bar and a few chairs were left intact, and the two men were sitting on the bar, pulling out beer from it to quench their thirst.

The scabbard at the waist of one man was empty, but there was a blood-stained sword on the bar. The other man didn't seem to draw his sword or exercise vigorously, so he drank beer slowly.

Outside the hotel, there was the sound of boots stepping into the mud, and the two men at the bar tensed at the same time, then relaxed at the same time.

For they could hear by their footsteps who was coming.

"What are you doing here?"

Before anyone outside could enter the door, his voice came in.

Then the man at the bar gulping beer lifted a delicate lacquered can on the table and held it up behind him.

"It's not a big deal, sir. Why don't you get some of this first? ”

His eyes were blurred and scattered, with a strange light, and his body movements were as fast as convulsions.

His gift was accepted.

Outside the door came a man with a soft cloth hat, and behind him was a woman who wore a soft cloth hat around her neck as a scarf.

The man in the cloth hat looked at the blood stains on the ground, and the faded marks between the sawdust. The corpse had apparently been dragged by someone, ending at the next door.

It's not a big deal.

He then poured a little white powder out of the jar and applied it to his gums with his fingers. Then his eyes were like those of a man with blood on his sword.

Numbing powder, a kind of 'good thing' that makes people refresh.

"What have you all done, Herris?"

The man in the cloth hat asked in a confused tone.

"It's no big deal." The unsheathed man at the bar replied.

"We met the 'toothed rats' here, and they were rude, and Blas slaughtered all six of them. I didn't draw my sword, I went to him if I was looking for trouble. ”

The 'Toothed Rats' are a gang that has gained some fame in the neighborhood after the war began.

War is hard for most people, but bandits who have broken free from the shackles of order are not among them.

Although the conditions for eating and drinking are a little worse than before, the gangsters don't care too much about this, as long as they have an unrestrained life and a sufficient amount of anesthetic powder, they are like in heaven.

And it's not the same as refugees struggling to survive. Most of the gangsters who have taken too much anesthetic powder are like a group of crazy children with no brains. Presumptuous day by day is day by day.

Blas, whose sword was stained with blood, let out a hoarse laugh.

Those who understand it can see at a glance that the powerful narcotics make him happy. "That's right, kill a hundred people, so there will be blood on the ground."

His understatement makes it impossible to imagine that he alone has killed a notorious gang in a matter of minutes.

Moreover, this group of people only wore a leather waistcoat, and the rest was completely unprotected, obviously not relying on the performance of armor to achieve this.

Blas said in a boastful tone, "The others are immediately honest, even if the boss here was scolding a moment ago." It's called terrorism! ”

"Oh, that's called terrorism." The man in the cloth hat pondered, his eyes still fixed on the blood on the ground, "What about the innkeeper?" What about his wife? What about their sons? It's one of the few resting spots on this road, and the army can use it, so if it is paralyzed, you two will leave me here as cooks!" ”

"Nope." Blas punched the blade of his sword with beer, and the sword was as clear as new.

"I'm not stupid, why kill people who do honest business? We kill people to make money, and then use the money to buy enjoyment. What stupid donkey would kill someone who offers us enjoyment? ”

"You see, I even saved a barber from the 'toothed rat'!"

"Terrorism," Blas narrowed his sparkling eyes and sniffed on the runny nose, "we have conquered this inn with it!" Emperor Enhir has conquered the whole world, and we have conquered this ruined house. But it's all the same! ”

"It's all different. Anyway, as long as you don't forget, Emperor Enhir pardoned us from the prison cell, what is the purpose of this equipment, and what are the consequences of not achieving the goal. ”

The man in the cloth hat muttered as he poured some more anesthetic powder into his hand.

"I don't want him to dance on my tombstone."

Thank you for the 100 points of the heart of the gloomy face and the water of Simon!

(End of chapter)