The Legend of Fatality

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> Chapter 134 The Night Directory of the Town Set Bookmark Comments Chapter 134 The Night of the Town

Fiction: Legend of Fata Lin: Beijing North mediocre Word Count: 2445

When entering late at night, the light quickly disappeared, and the air in the hotel room soon became sweet and hot. 35xs As Eichmann moved his body on the bed, he felt sore muscles. He can't remember when he last fell asleep peacefully. From place to place, his pursuit of heretics seemed to last forever.

For a long time heretics, he has always thought that the appearance of these heretics is a random event, and these heretics have been haunting it since the existence of the Gaitan Empire. Now he knows exactly how wrong he is.

Whether it is in the Gaitan Empire or in Reilmas City, these victories against heretics will not help to stop the number of heretics. They will emerge one by one until there is no power to resist them.

None of these particularly bothered Eichmann. The map he got was inaccurate and frustrating, but after cross-referencing the documentary evidence he could find, he had no doubt that their directions were correct.

Deep down, no matter what happened, he knew he would be led. Eichmann has served the church for a long time and has witnessed everything that the hand of Gaitan did in everything he did. Those subtle hints, those subtle signs, they are always there.

So he will reach that black tower. He will expose the essence of Crawford-Ton-Braht ’s corruption, which will give him a deeper understanding of any dirty organization that was bred in Remus City. Then, as usual, he will take action to remove the infection. The body of Flash Dance Novel will be purified, and he will wield tools to do this.

When all this is over, he will turn to the next heresy. There will always be the next one, a scholar involved in Necromancer; a young girl seduced by the sweet words of the heresy; a knight seduced by the bloodthirsty desire, and finally succumbing to the mad killing.

It is always endless, and the wave of heresy is endless. It washed away the walls of the human heart, the fragile fortresses that had been erected for thousands of years, were eroded by these things, gnawed, sinking, leaving traces of corrosion.

Ryan slept not far from him, he could hear his heavy snoring. The hotel is not soundproof, and Eichenmann can even hear the whispers of the sleeping men in the next room and feel their fatigue sinking into the body.

Echmann suddenly heard something broken, and was near the corridor. He got up gently and left the bed with difficulty. His neck muscles felt swollen and stiff, and it was difficult to raise his head.

He didn't light a candle or torch, crept to the door, and raised his hand to gently open a gap. He tried to find the outline of the sentry in the corridor, but he didn't see it.

This is strange, his sentries will not neglect their duties.

Then he heard it again.

He immediately got nervous, pulled the long sword out of his hands, ready to wave at any time. He could feel the blood pulsating violently in the blood vessels, breathing and heartbeat faster.

Is it coming again, sobbing, or soft chuckle? On his right, in the darkness at the end of the corridor.

No animal makes such a cry. This voice is more like a human. Sounds like a child.

Another whimper came from the darkness, followed by a suffocating cough, then a giggling laughter.

"You once guided me." Achermann whispered to Gaitan.

He pushed open the door and crept to the direction where the sound came. The wooden doors on both sides of the room passed by him. Only the sound of his sleeping breath under his room.

He came to the end of the corridor. In front of him, a bundle of rags was lying on the floor. Behind the bundle, a huge skull appeared. The top of the skull is roughly carved into a strange shape, like the face of some kind of monster, with long brown spots on it.

Those shiny feathers, bones, and large pieces of flesh, still gleaming in the blood that condensed them, surrounded the bundle of rags.

Eichmann felt the evil atmosphere heavier. He slowly approached the bundle of things. As he approached, something was moving inside. Twitching and twitching, like some kind of maggot or worm's cramp.

Eichmann stopped, just a few feet away, ready to smash it with his sword. Although he has struggled against corrupt forces for many years, his heart pounded like a drum that was ringing. Something in the package made his soul feel cold.

It twitched again, and some rags fell off. What's inside is exposed, human flesh. An arm shorter than his hand shone white in the darkness.

It sobbed again, like a baby, choked on a rag lying on its mouth.

Echermann held the long sword in his right hand and stretched his left hand toward the rag. He hesitated for a moment, and then he pulled out Brabra.

A baby's face looked up and looked at him with sad, terrified eyes. It looked hungry and half dead, dying. It may be only a few months old, but the baby's fat has wilted, leaving a layer of crumpled skin.

As soon as he saw Eichmann, he stopped sobbing. He lay quietly, his eyes wide, and looked up at him.

Then laughed.

"You will die here, the witch hunter."

Eichmann was taken aback, and pulled his hand back.

The baby smiled and his fangs shone in the night. It shook the remaining rags on his body, struggling to stand up. Its leg was divided into two halves; one arm was bent backwards, with a layer of beast fur. It stood awkwardly in front of Eichenmann, shaking his legs and grinning.

"We want to drink your blood, Eichmann-Bichian." The voice was terrifying, a kind of innocent voice mixed with innocent children and adult malice.

"We will drink your blood while you are alive and spit other people's blood in front of you."

Echmann took the long sword horizontally and pressed the fragile creature under the heavy blade.

A pool of black blood was spread on the wooden floor, covered with fragments of bones, skin and fur. The nightmarish child's head had been crushed and crushed, but its voice was still hovering in the corridor.

"Peel off your skin and hang it in front of you. We will take your heart out and dedicate it to our Lord."

The long sword was no longer slamming, but it was slashed again and again, slammed into the board, and slammed the rags into the board. The voice finally disappeared, and Echermann took a step back, panting with a long sword in his hand. The monster pattern on the huge skull looked at him blankly.

Eichmann walked slowly, turned and left the scene, and walked back through the corridor with wooden doors on both sides. He continued to move forward, and soon recovered his inner peace, and his steps became more stable.

The child was just a monster, sent to test him. He had seen worse in the house of the witch in the country.

All heretics will be purified, and humans are the masters of the world. His conviction was firmer.

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Previous Chapter Contents Without Chapter Chapter 134 Night in the Town, Legend of Fatalin-Fiction Net-novel novelette

When entering late at night, the light quickly disappeared, and the air in the hotel room soon became sweet and hot. 35xs As Eichmann moved his body on the bed, he felt sore muscles. He can't remember when he last fell asleep peacefully. From place to place, his pursuit of heretics seemed to last forever.

For a long time heretics, he has always thought that the appearance of these heretics is a random event, and these heretics have been haunting it since the existence of the Gaitan Empire. Now he knows exactly how wrong he is.

Whether it is in the Gaitan Empire or in Reilmas City, these victories against heretics will not help to stop the number of heretics. They will emerge one by one until there is no power to resist them.

None of these particularly bothered Eichmann. The map he got was inaccurate and frustrating, but after cross-referencing the documentary evidence he could find, he had no doubt that their directions were correct.

Deep down, no matter what happened, he knew he would be led. Eichmann has served the church for a long time and has witnessed everything that the hand of Gaitan did in everything he did. Those subtle hints, those subtle signs, they are always there.

So he will reach that black tower. He will expose the essence of Crawford-Ton-Braht ’s corruption, which will give him a deeper understanding of any dirty organization that was bred in Remus City. Then, as usual, he will take action to remove the infection. The body of Flash Dance Novel will be purified, and he will wield tools to do this.

When all this is over, he will turn to the next heresy. There will always be the next one, a scholar involved in Necromancer; a young girl seduced by the sweet words of the heresy; a knight seduced by the bloodthirsty desire, and finally succumbing to the mad killing.

It is always endless, and the wave of heresy is endless. It washed away the walls of the human heart, the fragile fortresses that had been erected for thousands of years, were eroded by these things, gnawed, sinking, leaving traces of corrosion.

Ryan slept not far from him, he could hear his heavy snoring. The hotel is not soundproof, and Eichenmann can even hear the whispers of the sleeping men in the next room and feel their fatigue sinking into the body.

Echmann suddenly heard something broken, and was near the corridor. He got up gently and left the bed with difficulty. His neck muscles felt swollen and stiff, and it was difficult to raise his head.

He didn't light a candle or torch, crept to the door, and raised his hand to gently open a gap. He tried to find the outline of the sentry in the corridor, but he didn't see it.

This is strange, his sentries will not neglect their duties.

Then he heard it again.

He immediately got nervous, pulled the long sword out of his hands, ready to wave at any time. He could feel the blood pulsating violently in the blood vessels, breathing and heartbeat faster.

Is it coming again, sobbing, or soft chuckle? On his right, in the darkness at the end of the corridor.

No animal makes such a cry. This voice is more like a human. Sounds like a child.

Another whimper came from the darkness, followed by a suffocating cough, then a giggling laughter.

"You once guided me." Achermann whispered to Gaitan.

He pushed open the door and crept to the direction where the sound came. The wooden doors on both sides of the room passed by him. Only the sound of his sleeping breath under his room.

He came to the end of the corridor. In front of him, a bundle of rags was lying on the floor. Behind the bundle, a huge skull appeared. The top of the skull is roughly carved into a strange shape, like the face of some kind of monster, with long brown spots on it.

Those shiny feathers, bones, and large pieces of flesh, still gleaming in the blood that condensed them, surrounded the bundle of rags.

Eichmann felt the evil atmosphere heavier. He slowly approached the bundle of things. As he approached, something was moving inside. Twitching and twitching, like some kind of maggot or worm's cramp.

Eichmann stopped, just a few feet away, ready to smash it with his sword. Although he has struggled against corrupt forces for many years, his heart pounded like a drum that was ringing. Something in the package made his soul feel cold.

It twitched again, and some rags fell off. What's inside is exposed, human flesh. An arm shorter than his hand shone white in the darkness.

It sobbed again, like a baby, choked on a rag lying on its mouth.

Echermann held the long sword in his right hand and stretched his left hand toward the rag. He hesitated for a moment, and then he pulled out Brabra.

A baby's face looked up and looked at him with sad, terrified eyes. It looked hungry and half dead, dying. It may be only a few months old, but the baby's fat has wilted, leaving a layer of crumpled skin.

As soon as he saw Eichmann, he stopped sobbing, and he lay quietly, his eyes earning big ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ looked up at him.

Then laughed.

"You will die here, the witch hunter."

Eichmann was taken aback, and pulled his hand back.

The baby smiled and his fangs shone in the night. It shook the remaining rags on his body, struggling to stand up. Its leg was divided into two halves; one arm was bent backwards, with a layer of beast fur. It stood awkwardly in front of Eichenmann, shaking his legs and grinning.

"We want to drink your blood, Eichmann-Bichian." The voice was terrifying, a kind of innocent voice mixed with innocent children and adult malice.

"We will drink your blood while you are alive and spit other people's blood in front of you."

Echmann took the long sword horizontally and pressed the fragile creature under the heavy blade.

A pool of black blood was spread on the wooden floor, covered with fragments of bones, skin and fur. The nightmarish child's head had been crushed and crushed, but its voice was still hovering in the corridor.

"Peel off your skin and hang it in front of you. We will take your heart out and dedicate it to our Lord."

The long sword was no longer slamming, but it was slashed again and again, slammed into the board, and slammed the rags into the board. The voice finally disappeared, and Echermann took a step back, panting with a long sword in his hand. The monster pattern on the huge skull looked at him blankly.

Eichmann walked slowly, turned and left the scene, and walked back through the corridor with wooden doors on both sides. He continued to move forward, and soon recovered his inner peace, and his steps became more stable.

The child was just a monster, sent to test him. He had seen worse in the house of the witch in the country.

All heretics will be purified, and humans are the masters of the world. His conviction was firmer.