God-level Demon Hunter

"Vivian once told me that with the sword of Arondette, she can call her friends for help."

"Roy of Lake Vizima..." Heinna said in a deep voice, "Brockleon originally did not welcome strangers, but you are an exception. Tell me, what do you want?"

"I'm looking for a little girl." Without further ado, the witcher said unceremoniously, "She has mouse-gray silver hair and is about nine years old. Just passing by your territory, can you tell me where she is now?" Exact location?"

"Simple!"

After the crisp words fell, Roy saw a slender and well-fitting arm stretched out beside him, and he waved his palm like plucking strings in the lake water, dragging out a bizarre water curtain in an instant.

In the water curtain, a little girl appeared, covering her mouth with a pale face, lying motionless in a damp and dark tree hole, not daring to breathe.

A faint and strange cry came from outside the tree hole.

"Ciri."

The witcher screamed excitedly, and at the same time, a piece of algae the size of a forearm miraculously appeared in his other vacant palm.

"Take it, it will guide you and find the person you are thinking of. Also, say hello to Vivian for me."

The goddess of the lake, Heinna, hadn't finished speaking. Roy felt a gentle pressure from the soles of his feet, and he couldn't help but soared from the bottom of the lake and quickly floated to the surface.

"Beware of Brokleon's ruthless dryads! Their leader, Ms. Essina, is so powerful that even I can't do anything to her, so be careful."

The voice of the goddess echoed in my ears and gradually faded away.

And the vine-like plant in the demon hunter's hand turned in a certain direction like a compass.

"Hold on Shirley, I'm coming!"

Chapter 21 The Legend Comes

It was later recorded in the book that he came from the weedy fortress in the north, with white hair, two swords on his back, and a heavy horse. into Brokryon Woods—

At noon, the witcher stopped somewhere in the forest. He squatted down and rubbed the fresh blood on the grass with his calloused index finger and thumb. Bloodstains, and soon, he found the first body.

The corpse looked very young, but it was a man in his twenties. He was lying on his back with his feet spread apart, and his stiff and terrified face before death was frozen and lingered for a long time.

But the demon hunter understood that this man died on the spot, before he even had time to suffer, the crude arrows went through his eye sockets and poured into his brain.

The witcher gently closed his glaring eyes and stood up.The man's well-developed muscles and calluses on his hands prove that he has undergone systematic equipment training before his death, and this is no ordinary person.

"Poachers, or hunters who receive Evel's bounty?" King Evil of Verdon has always regarded Brokleon's dryad as a thorn in his side and a thorn in his flesh, and has secretly offered a reward for the dryad's head for a long time.

Because human beings want to steal the trees of Brokleon, which is the living home of the dryads.

He came to a distance of about six steps behind the corpse, and a slanted arrow pierced the ground. From the depth of the arrow into the soil and the angle of inclination, he could almost tell which tree the dryad hid and shot the arrow.

"With the dryant's archery skills, this arrow was deliberately shot sideways-warning."

"The dryad who shoots arrows is not experienced enough, and he will warn people in advance."

The witcher remembered that a few decades ago, the dryads were not so cruel. Would they warn humans three or four times in a row when they broke into the forest?

But today...

He shook his head, and continued walking along the messy blood-stained footprints. He could ignore the corpses, but he couldn't leave the living alone. He thought that he might be able to catch up with these people, let them get out of the forest, and escape for a while. Fate maybe?

Although he never admits it, he is a person whose heart does not match his cold exterior, a bit of indecisiveness, and a kind of contradictory charm.

However, he soon realized that he was wrong. He found the second, third, and fourth bodies. Struggling for a long time before death, it was very painful.

Suddenly, his ears moved, and he heard a slight groan!

He quickly lifted a pile of juniper branches to discover the concealed burrow.

In the sunlight, I saw a muscular man lying in the cave, wearing a buckskin jacket, leather pants, and a delicate mustache, but at this time his body was covered with mud, plant debris, and blood, and his face was pale. The state is very bad.

The injured man felt movement and opened his eyes with difficulty.

"Geralt?!" He groaned slightly, his bloodshot pupils full of doubts, "Damn it! I have returned to the embrace of the goddess? Why is there an illusion?"

"Fixnet, you are not dreaming." Geralt shook his head. "The lesson of becoming a cormorant hasn't taught you how to be in awe. How dare you break into Brokleon?"

"Are you real? God!" The man howled in pain, but there was a hint of anger on his face, "Geralt, help me, save her!"

"Save who?"

"Princess...uh...ah..." Feixnet coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Don't worry about the princess, man! Take care of yourself first!"

The witcher cursed and jumped out of the hole. He wanted to find two young poplar trees, make a stretcher, and drag the man away.

Whoosh!

Just two steps away, an eagle feather arrow shot into the tree trunk at the same height as his head.He rolled on the ground like lightning, swish, and three more arrows shot from three other angles.

Shooting to his previous position, almost piercing him.

"Four dryads?"

The demon hunter's heart skipped a beat, no matter who it was, it was impossible to escape surrounded by four hundred-step sharpshooters.He heard the faint sound of bowstring rubbing again, and immediately shouted loudly,

"Ceadmil! Va an Esna meath e Doon Canal! Essea Gwinblad!"

There was a burst of obscure replies.

He survived, and slowly raised his ready hands.

This time he was ordered to come here for peace, not for battle, so he repeated, "Meath Esna! Essea Gwinblad."

"Glaeddyv vort!"

Hearing this crisp voice, the demon hunter breathed a sigh of relief, untied his sword belt, and let it fall to the ground.

Then, amidst the light footsteps like civet cats, a figure emerged from behind the tall fir trees.

She is petite and slender, and she wears clothes made of pure natural bark and leaves. If you don't pay attention, you will definitely confuse her with a plant.

A black turban was tied on her forehead, and her olive green hair was tied back. Her face was streaked with walnut juice, and she could only see the outline of her beautiful features.

She was the only one who came out, and the other three dryads were still hiding somewhere and aimed at the demon hunter's vitals.

"T'en thesse in meath aep Esina llev?" She approached the witcher six steps, and asked with an unusually beautiful voice,

"Ess' Gwynblad," the witcher stammered, "Ae... aessela... do you speak the Common Tongue? I don't speak Brokleon very well."

"Gwinblad, white wolf, witcher?" At this moment, another dryad with brick red hair came out and said to the witcher.

"Yes, I used to live in Brockleon, in Duncanal. Ms. Esna knows me. This time, with the kindness of King Brugge, I came to discuss important matters with the lady. Geralt's expression and tone of voice were as gentle as possible, although the expression on the dead man's face could not be too exaggerated.

The olive-haired dryad glanced at the latecomer, who nodded to her, and the dryad's gaze at the witcher was no longer so sharp and murderous.

Seeing that the situation had stabilized, the witcher said, "There is a wounded man in the cave over there. If no one saves him, he will die."

"Thaess aep!"

The third, the No.4 dryad, also came out, raised his bow and arrow, and the tip of the arrow almost poked him in the face.

"You want him to choke to death with his own blood?" The witcher raised his voice, and stared at the dryad with brick-red hair in a way that would not be too extreme. He knew that he was giving orders,

"I assure you! The man in the cave, and the guy you shot just now, are neither bounty hunters nor poachers. They entered Brokleon to find someone!"

"Shut up!" shouted the oldest Dryad in Common Tongue, then pointed to his honey-haired compatriot, "She'll take you to Ms. Ethina."

"Is that the injured person?" the witcher asked unwillingly, he couldn't just ignore his friend.

"Leave it alone," she replied, her eyes flicking between the other olive-haired dryad and the burrow.

"Go, follow her to Ms. Eisner."

……

Geralt followed the honey-haired dryad to the center of Brokleon, Dun Canal, and although he noticed the concealed eyes of the brick red-haired dryad, he was not sure whether he could save him Faithnet.

I can only pray for the old man from the bottom of my heart.

The two walked through glades, misty valleys, and dead, decaying woods.

The honey-haired dryad stopped again and looked around.Geralt took the opportunity to sit on a fallen branch to rest and think about the princess.

Suddenly, he heard a strange scream, short, piercing, and terrifying.

Immediately the dryad fell to one knee, drew two arrows from his quiver, bit one between his teeth, and drew the other to the bushes.

With five fingers, the demon hunter drew out a Quen seal, and strode across the bushes with agility, and came to the open space under a big tree.

In the middle of the clearing, there is a strange creature, curling up its body and making baby-like sounds towards the top of the big tree.

It is dark brown all over, with a long jointed torso as thick as an arm, and barbed yellow legs and feet on both sides of its body.

This is a big centipede.

Its tentacles are nimbly patrolling under the big tree, and its body is curled up into an S shape, preparing to charge before hunting.

"Yugorn!"

The Dryad came silently behind the witcher,

"There's something on the hornbeam attracting it!"

"Hunting...don't worry...leave." She lowered her voice and said in broken Common Tongue, "don't provoke...Yugorn..."

Geralt hesitated, and a strong premonition surged in his heart. If he left now, he would miss something extremely important.

The dark cat pupil stared at Horn Tree, his expression froze,

"Wait, there's a hole in the tree, and there's...someone in it!"

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Just when the two stood still, several clusters of blood burst out of the giant centipede!

Immediately afterwards, a figure in a cloak jumped out of the bushes—he rushed to Yugoun's ghostly figure and turned around.

The sunlight reflected a dark red sword blade, and as he moved up and down flexibly, the blade drew several afterimages in mid-air, breaking through the hard chitin carapace on Yugoen's body.

Emerald green blood slid to the ground.

Yugoen let out piercing sobs, instantly opened countless pairs of oar-like legs and feet, and his lower body twitched suddenly!

With a crisp sound of "Bo", the light yellow light on the cloaked man shattered, and he immediately rolled on the ground to avoid the bite.The moment he got up, the blade of the sword moved upwards, cutting through the white carapace of his abdomen.

Slurry splashes.

Yu Geen was completely enraged, and he no longer cared about the prey behind him, coiled up his body and rushed towards the attacker continuously.

Once, twice, three times, the air was pumped "crackling", and the cloaked man dodged in embarrassment.

For the fourth time, it suddenly let out a scream.

The scorching flames came from behind, and the black carapace burst into blisters. It turned around angrily—a cluster of white hair was blown away by the strong wind. The No.2 demon hunter who joined the battle at an unknown time drew a blue regular triangle seal with his left hand , push forward!

"Bang!" The air exploded, and Yugen was pushed off balance.

"Shh!"

The dark red blade pierced into the middle of its body, where the fragile carapace was connected.

"puff!"

The white-haired witcher pierced its ferocious mouthparts with a precise sword.

The next moment, it was fixed in place, with countless bloody tentacles reflected in its pupils.

The dark red blade slanted upward like a lightning bolt—a head was thrown high and landed on the ground.

"Kill Yugoen, experience +120, demon hunter Lv5 (3080/2500)."

Even though it was dead, the giant centipede's mouthparts were still opening and closing, and the densely packed legs and feet on half of the corpse wriggled crazily, which was extremely terrifying.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew past, blowing away the slight smell of blood in the air.

The white-haired witcher shook off the green blood on the sword with a wave of his hand, and his dark cat eyes swept towards him.

The cloaked man lifted his hood and smiled brightly, revealing an extremely young face with dark golden pupils.

"Hey, Geralt, good cooperation!"

Chapter 22 The Snake and the Wolf

Young, that was Geralt's first impression.

Even though the demon hunters have a long lifespan, most of the extant demon hunters are over fifty years old. As for their appearance, they have remained at the age of thirty to forty years old, changing very slowly.