The Divine Hunter

"Who are you? Where did you come from and where are you going?" growled rudely at the pair, a bald, short, stout man, standing with his legs splayed, carrying a bow and a bag of white quilled arrows.

"We're from Podlog," Geralt took a step forward. He glanced around the faces of the soldiers. No one seemed to have discovered the witcher's identity, so he lied, "Just going back to Brugg, What's going on here?"

On the other side, Roy quietly took Ciri's hand and dragged her behind him.

"We are the king's men!" Another black-faced man who was clearly the leader stood up, glanced at the two longswords behind Geralt's back, and said in a more polite tone, "Something happened here. Unexpected circumstances, we had to check for pedestrians passing by."

Saying that, he looked behind him.

Roy's nose moved, um, the smell of blood, the smell of blood mixed with humans and horses floated from the direction behind the black-faced man.

"Two, look?" the black-faced man said, letting the soldiers spread out a path.

Geralt and Roy exchanged glances, and took the lead in striding over.

And Roy hugged Ciri with her face back and let her head rest on his shoulders.

"Be good, close your eyes."

The little girl looked very well-behaved at this time, leaning on her as if she was sleeping, but the shortness of breath that sprayed onto the back of the witcher's neck proved that her mood was not so calm.

Not far ahead, a large tree with lush branches fell in the middle of the road, blocking a carriage covered with tarpaulins. A few long-haired ponies fell ahead, tangled with handlebars and reins, studded with arrows and showing yellowed teeth.

One of them wasn't completely dead yet, with wide dark eyes, heavy snorting, and kicking with his legs against the ground.

The sand was soaked with blood, and human corpses were littered here, some clinging to carriages, others caught in the wheels.

Not a single survivor.

"A wagon train, attacked?" Geralt asked.

A soldier, rubbing a blood-stained dagger in his hands, looked at the three of them slantingly with his triangular eyes.

"It's a shameless sneak attack..." He replied in a rough voice like a rasp.

"Brock Leon's dryad attacked the passing caravan, killing everyone. We are investigating."

"Dads attack caravans?"

"See for yourself!" The soldier waved his arms impatiently. "Poor merchants, shot like a hedgehog, still on the road! Those monsters in the forest are getting more and more cruel. It won't take long as I say. , they will definitely leave the forest and take the initiative to attack the nearby residents!"

"So, who are you?" Geralt asked cautiously, blinking.

"King Evel's subordinates, Nastrog's soldiers, we were waiting on the road to pick up Governor Fresnet. Who knew that we suddenly received news that the Governor led someone into the forest."

"It's been three days since he was gone. His old man and that noble man must have been poisoned by the tree spirits! First they were, and now they are businessmen."

There was a vicious ray of light in the eyes of the gritted soldier, "We must pay with blood!"

"Yes, blood for blood."

"No revenge or a man?"

"Kill all the dryads!"

"That damn Druid hasn't come yet, let's not wait!"

There was an enthusiastic response from the soldiers.

Druid, is anyone here yet?

It's not suitable to stay here for a long time, Geralt lowered his head and pondered for a moment, "Okay, then I wish you all success." Then he turned and waved to Roy, "If there is nothing else, we will leave first."

"Wait, brother," the black-faced man jumped up, "what does that guy in the back, and the child on him have to do with you? Also a Brugger?"

"That's right...my two nephews." The witcher thought for a while, and deliberately called Ciri a boy. Just looking at her dress, it was true that she could not tell the difference between male and female.

"Two nephews, both are so healthy! Really a guy who is favored by Goddess Meritelli, so lucky to make people jealous! Now take your two treasures and leave, brother, don't come back again, the danger of the dryad is not yours alone You can handle it with two swords on your back, otherwise the next one killed...is your family..."

After speaking, he turned his back and let his subordinates separate a path.

"Goodbye!"

The black-faced man waved, and when Roy passed by with Ciri in his arms, he also touched the girl's head, who shrank back tremblingly.

"What an overly delicate little guy, he's definitely a heartthrob when he grows up! By the way, boy, what are you mumbling about?"

"You have blood on your hands," Ciri said in a trembling voice.

"Oh, that's the blood of the businessman. It was accidentally stuck on the body when examining the body." The black-faced man smiled and shrugged nonchalantly.

"But, it's not from the dryad!" Ciri turned a deaf ear to the increased strength of the witcher's waist, "Obviously!"

"Do you say it again?" The black-faced man's smile disappeared completely, and he asked back in a creepy tone.

"This tree...look at the sawdust all over the ground, it was cut down...with an axe, and dryads will never cut trees, they use magic to control the natural growth of trees, don't they, Geralt ?"

Ciri also turned around and asked the white-haired witcher.

"That's right!" The black-faced man winked at the slanted-eyed soldier, and quietly turned his back on the weapon that was holding his waist, "What a smart kid, smart..."

"Enough!" Roy, who had been ignored for a long time, suddenly shouted.

"What's enough?"

"When we are blind, how dare we frame the blame!"

Roy's words fell, and Geralt had already made a tacit move-the cuff with iron studs hit the forehead of the squinting man who was close at hand. Before the man fell to the ground, he drew his sword again and jumped to the ground. between the other two soldiers.

The movements of ordinary people are slow motion to the witcher. The two soldiers reacted, and it was too late. Geralt's long sword swung in mid-air, drawing a wonderful arc, cutting the two soldiers' carotid arteries in an instant.

They clutched their fountain-like necks in horror.

Can't make a sound.

At this time, the soldiers in a circle had already picked up their bows and crossbows and took out their arrows. Geralt knelt on one knee, stretched his fingers, and drew the seal of Alder, but he was not aiming at the archers in the distance, but - Sand.

With a muffled "bang", Alder rolled up a whirlwind of sand and dust, and the yellow sand rolled up, temporarily obscuring the figures of the three of them. Then he pushed a soldier whose throat was wiped as a human shield and charged towards the archer!

"Can it still be used?"

Looking around, Roy immediately hid Ciri in a hollow log.

"Obviously hide, don't come out!"

Then a note of Quinn protected his body, his eyes swept to the black-faced man not far away, holding the long sword diagonally in both hands, and quickly approached.

"The witcher, it turned out to be the witcher." After realizing it, the black face was full of grinning, "Come on, freak boy, let uncle take good care of you!"

Roy didn't plan to fight him at all, his fingers transformed into another seal in mid-air, and a dazzling fire instantly overturned, and the conical fire snake involved the black-faced man standing stupidly.

The next moment, the heart-piercing scream rang out, and the black-faced man covered in flames rushed frantically, unexpectedly rushing towards his own camp, causing them to be in a hurry.

Looking at this spectacle, Roy was a little stunned.

"My Igni seal...how has its power increased?" His previous level 1 seal could only make the black-faced man feel a burning pain, scalding his skin into blisters, and would never ignite the opponent's body.

"Is it the effect of the blood of the ancients? My elemental talent has been enhanced?"

"Whoosh-"

Suddenly, a crossbow arrow was shot. Roy shook his wrist and spun the sharp blade against it, but his reaction was not fast enough, he only blocked the air, and the shield of Kunn was mercilessly shattered by the arrow.

He rolled on the ground, and the second arrow shot into the grass beside his feet.

Then he got up and moved his body like lightning in a zigzag shape, the third bolt brushing the leather armor of his forearm.

There was a brief gap in the shot, and the witcher looked up at the bushes.

Thirty meters away, one, two, three, a whole three crossbowmen, formed a pile and aimed at him, pulling strings and setting arrows.

rushed over? Too late!

With five fingers, the witcher grabbed Gabriel out of the void, and shot an arrow there.

When the arrow penetrated into the bushes, his dark gold pupils shrunk into prismatic shapes.

Blink!

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The sound of wind, insects, shouts of killing, the sound of sword blades colliding, and the sound of sharp weapons entering flesh, all disappeared, leaving only a slight, short and sharp roar.

The location of the witcher was strangely rippling with ripples.

The world in front of him was divided into countless color blocks, and everything became bright and blurred, like a painting by an Impressionist master - he leaned over a thin "water film".

The three crossbowmen in the bushes couldn't help but widen their eyes, and on the grass where their eyes were originally focused, the demon hunter who was bizarrely snaked and wielded both crossbow and sword suddenly disappeared.

They lost their aim and turned around subconsciously.

Group shock!

The overwhelming blood-colored tentacles were reflected in the pupils, and the three of them were tightly bound, unable to move a finger.

"Shh-"

In the next second, the air hissed, and Guvihir drew a graceful arc, with a precise swing, almost simultaneously across the necks of the three crossbowmen.

The coquettish blood flowers bloomed, and several people clutched the blood gushing from their necks, let out a low growl in their throats, and fell head-on. After he fell down, his limbs were still shaking and twitching, and his eyes buried in the soil were staring to the extreme, full of puzzlement.

Until they died, they didn't know how the other party approached, and what kind of sorcery was used to fix them.

"Kill Gomas, Leia, Trill... EXP +20*3, lv6 (570/3500)."

The witcher shook his wrist and threw away the blood, and the young face showed uncontrollable excitement, flashing, and it didn't look like entering the portal made people feel sick and want to vomit.

And flickering and shocking—

"The best weapon against mages and crossbowmen! Can also be used in group battles!"

But there was no time to celebrate, his dark golden eyes swept not far, and a few panicked men rushed towards the log hiding Ciri.

...

The three soldiers in chain mail and helmets were already terrified.

That white-haired guy was simply a devil, but within twenty seconds, several of his companions turned into corpses without the ability to fight back.

Even the archers were beaten by his vile sandbags.

At this moment, several guys with the most skilled swordsmanship are still pestering that guy, and they chose another way - to catch the witcher's "little nephew"!

The distance of just tens of meters was approaching in an instant. The soldier rushed to the front of the log and stretched out his sinful hand. He could see through the gap and see the huddled child inside, and the pair of panicked green eyes.

Suddenly, the soldier in the middle was pulled back and turned around——

A long sword swiped through his chin, the only part of him that wasn't protected by armor.

The tip of the sword penetrated into the brain from the chin, and it was quickly pulled out with the spray of blood, and the soldier fell softly to the ground before he could even cry in pain.

The remaining two soldiers returned to their senses, and the long sword in the man's hand who suddenly appeared like a ghost glanced to the left like lightning, and stabbed the other eye with precision.

"Pfft..." The bloody sword tip was pulled back, and the soldier lay on the ground with his face covered and twitched weakly.

After the two blows, the witcher's body instinctively assumed a bull position, with his feet separated forwards and backwards, his body slightly bowed, his hands holding the hilt of the sword across his face, his limbs and the long sword like a full-strength string. Bow, the tip of the sword pointed directly at the third soldier.

The third soldier, ignoring the little girl in the log, pulled out the mace from his waist and hit him on the shoulder. The cold hand armor and the blood-stained radial blade surface of the hammer head flashed cold light, which could easily break the bones of the attackers in one fell swoop.

But the heavy chainmail had a certain effect on the movement, and he was slow to shoot.

In the eyes of the witcher, it looks like a snail.

When the soldier swung the mace from the upper right to the lower left, Roy did not dodge backwards, so that the opponent could still chase him forward and attack.

His footsteps were against the direction of the hammer, and he took a step forward to the left. The sword body pressed the hammer to the right. At this time, Guvihir, who was tilting upwards, did not need any adjustment, and was already in the plow position. The tip of the sword was pushed towards the throat that the soldier himself had sent to the door.

"puff--"

The blade penetrated the trachea unhindered.

The third soldier fell to the ground with a muffled sound in his throat.

"Kill... EXP +20*3, lv6 (630/3500)"

...

Crisis lifted.

The little guy immediately got out of the wood and threw himself into the arms of the witcher.

"Uuu... Roy, don't leave me in the future!"

...

On the other side, the battle of the white wolf was also coming to an end, and there was only one person left in front of him.

The blade hit his neck.

He twisted his waist and shoulders, using the force of the block to push his opponent away, while the tip of his sword slid across the opponent's cheek.

The opponent staggered back, covering his face, and the witcher dashed forward, then slashed the opponent's carotid artery with the blade centered on his left leg.

The man trembled, knelt down, and planted his head in the grass.

"It's a pity for an exceptionally talented bounty hunter..." Geralt exhaled a long breath, with crystal beads of sweat hanging from his forehead. In just two or three minutes of melee killing, he consumed more physical strength than Roy more.

"Snake buddy, nice job!" Geralt tore off a sackcloth from the corpse and wiped the blade, his dark cat pupils noticed the three crossbowmen who lay dead not far away, "Don't look at your face , I thought it was an old buddy."

"Geralt, you're much better than me." Roy patted the back of the little girl in his arms and praised sincerely. He also noticed the strong personal style of the white wolf at the glimpse just now after the battle. Yes, superb swordsmanship - swinging the sword as gracefully as a dancer, with speed, power and explosiveness.

As far as swordsmanship is concerned, it is in no way inferior to Oaks.

At least for now, he is far inferior.

Suddenly, Geralt's expression froze, he turned around, and looked at the rider riding a gray horse slowly in the distance,

"Who is that?" Roy drew his blade again.

"Do you remember what this group of soldiers said just now? They were waiting for someone to enter the forest to take revenge on the dryad."

"Druid?" Roy's heart moved.

"Put your weapons away, man, that's an old acquaintance..."