The Divine Hunter

Poor villages, impolite hillbillies, and inaccessible swamps are the only impressions most Temarians have of Velen.

And now, the witchers are in the swamps of Velen.

"Anyone who dares to attack my student's ideas, I swear, they will pay a painful price!" A clear roar still echoed in the swamp. Lord Owl was holding the boy Carl's hand and walking in the middle of the team. , and his companions traced the blood remaining in the air, the owner of that ear.

Leto was at the forefront with a serpent silver sword to explore the way, and the Oakes brothers looked around vigilantly in the back.

The mist-shrouded swamp has never been a peaceful place, where ghouls, water ghosts, swamp witches, and other scavengers forage for food, and foreign travelers will become monster feces if they are not careful.

In addition, they had to beware of the sudden subsidence of the ground, the viscous mud that was more terrifying than monsters and devoured human lives everywhere.

Roy was in the rear at the end of the team, and every time he stepped out, the greaves of the flying lion monster would gently sink into the moist and soft black mud, which slightly affected his mobility.

He looked at the sky, the sky was completely bright.

As the sun sets, the temperature rises, and the water vapor begins to evaporate, casting a soft veil on the perilous swamp.

The witcher's field of vision was only 20 meters away, and as far as he could see, the dark mud floor was covered with weeds, covered with turbid puddles, and there were a few crooked-neck trees scattered in the puddles. Saw several animal carcasses in the swamp that were rotting beyond recognition.

There was a strange cry of "quack" from the corpse, and then a few shiny crows emerged, flapping their wings and flying through the air.

Breeze.

The turbid swamp water was rippled in circles, as if something was about to break the water.

"Teacher, I... I'm afraid..." Carl's face was pale, his eyes twinkling, and he pressed tightly against Phrius' strong arm.

"Little monkey, how did I tell you before?" Phrius shook the boy's hand vigorously, and his eyes shot into the depths of the swamp, "The monsters in the swamp have a common feature, they like the blood of cowards the most. Heart, the more afraid you are, the faster you will die."

Carl's body trembled, his neck was tangled, his face blushed, "I...I'm not afraid anymore..."

"It's good to understand!" Ferius smiled coldly.

"But don't worry, whoever dares to touch you, my sword will not make it comfortable!"

"Guys! What is that?"

Lesso, who was at the forefront, suddenly stopped everyone and pointed to a moss-covered rotted wood floating on the swamp not far away.

Everyone's eyes turned.

This wood is not surprising in general, but upon closer inspection, a vortex-like thing that looks like a fungus grows strangely in the pit at the top of the trunk.

"ear?"

"Yes, it is the human ear, which has been moldy and rotten for a long time."

The witchers fell silent, and they vaguely felt that this strange arrangement had some special meaning.

"Ears in the Weren Swamp... Whisperer?" Roy thought while rubbing his brows.

"What are you mumbling about, kid?"

"I thought of a story that circulated in the Weren Marsh."

"Which book did you read it from, or your 'feeling'? Let's hear it."

"That's about a few ancient existences in Willen..." Roy was forced to terminate his statement as soon as he started.

In the fog and miasma in front of everyone, melodious singing, strange tones, and inexplicable lyrics suddenly came out.

Everyone's attention was attracted, and they all pricked up their ears and leaned over cautiously.

"Three sisters, holding hands, traveling through land and sea, terrifying people, advancing like this: three times for you, three times for me, three times, a total of nine..."

A simple thatched hut, in front of two farmlands neatly planted with celeriac and cabbage.

A middle-aged man hummed indulgently. Although everyone frowned upon hearing the insufficiency, his guts and voice were unusually loud.

He looks about forty years old, his face is full of deep ravines left by the ravages of life, he is dressed in linen clothes, and he is dressed like an ordinary country farmer, but he seems to be injured, and the right side of his face is wrapped in a white bandage. With bloodstains.

He sang so deeply that he almost forgot himself, and while he sang, he poured a golden liquid into the farmland with a water ladle, completely unaware of the witcher who had sneaked up to him.

He was shocked until his shoulder was patted, and with a flick of his wrist, the transparent oily liquid in the water scoop accidentally spilled onto the ground, and his expression suddenly distorted, showing a distressed color.

"Who are you? Walk like mice, are you here to scare me?" The man roared viciously, obviously not welcoming them.

"Sorry man, we are witchers who passed by by chance. I have some questions for you." Phrius squeezed in front of the crowd, only to find that the man on the opposite side was not only covered with bandages on the right half of his face, but also had his ears on the left side of his face. No more, he also lost half of his hair, like a large area of ​​alopecia areata, showing half of his bare head and the other half with thick brown hair.

His eyebrows have also been shaved, and one left leg has been replaced by a table leg-like piece of wood, making him look funny and eccentric.

The four witchers focused their attention on the strange man, while Roy paid attention to the two acres of farmland. The crops in the farmland were extremely lush, which was destined to be a bumper year. He glanced at the bucket at the man's feet again, the golden liquid inside exuded the fragrance of oak. This is no ordinary fertilizer, it is similar to the oil made by pressing the fruit of the oak tree.

"What are you talking about?" the man yelled at the witcher. "I can't hear you!"

This guy had his ears cut off and presumably his hearing was affected.

Phryus reluctantly pressed it to the man's ear and repeated it.

After hearing this, the man waved his hand impatiently, "Witcher, I don't understand why you came to such a small country place, I didn't entrust it to you, and I didn't have any money to pay for it!" He pointed to the west, almost Drive, "Go to the Humpback Marsh and Lower Wallen, and try your luck!"

"Then I'll just say it straight!" Phryus didn't have the patience to spend any more time with the peasants, and took out a delicate gem-encrusted dagger from the belt behind him and showed it.

"Do you know this thing?"

The peasant saw clearly the weapon in the hands of the witcher, his face changed suddenly, his eyes widened, his mouth wide open, revealing rotten teeth, and he stammered, "You...you, how dare you, blaspheme...blaspheme..."

"You blasphemy!" Phrius shoved a bloody ear into the man's mouth, gagging the rest of his words back in his belly, then picked up the clothes on his chest and put him on the shelf Get up on one foot off the ground,

"Bastard, don't play tricks on me if you don't want to suffer, and answer me honestly, what is there in this swamp that turns you into such a ghost, and dares to confuse my apprentice."

Phrius' eyes were sharp like knives, as if he was about to poke holes in the man.

The man's eyes turned white when he heard the words, whether he was angry or trembling with fear.

"Dude, you blocked his mouth, how would he answer, with his butt?" Roy removed the ear from the farmer's mouth.

The latter took a breath, and then threatened viciously, "Idiot! You move the holy artifact without authorization, and you will be punished by the gods."

"Did you make a mistake and dare to threaten me?" Phrius slapped the peasant on the cheek gently, leaving a bright red mark, "Believe it or not, I'd rather let you live than die?" Lius has already drawn half a seal with his fingers.

But Roy grabbed his arm.

"Don't, don't use the Axifa seal."

"Give me a reason." Phrius was surprised.

"Roy is right," Oaks said, "We just learned a lesson not long ago, don't use Axi on a believer of a certain god, otherwise the consequences will be serious."

He was referring to the beggar cult of the lion-faced spider in Vizima.

"Let's go ahead and search the house... You're optimistic about him, owl..."

Leto, Brother Oaks and Roy poured into the humble thatched hut one after another. And Phrius stuffed the peasant's mouth with a kerchief to stop him from cursing.

"What did you put in his mouth, teacher?"

"Little monkey, the witcher must first learn to control his exuberant curiosity. Well... I'll make an exception this time to tell you... Those are the pants you changed from the bed-wetting the day before..."

"Uh...uh..." Hearing the words, the peasant whose hands were restrained fell to the ground, twitching like a dead fish.

...

The peasant's thatched hut is very simple, even worse than most of the poor. Apart from the floor covering and some dilapidated living utensils, the most striking thing is a huge oil painting hanging on the mottled wooden wall——

"How can there be such exquisite oil paintings in the remote and poor Weren Swamp, in the dilapidated and cramped cabins?" The bald man stood in front of the oil paintings and looked surprised.

I don't know how many years this oil painting was born, but it is well mounted and well preserved. The pattern on the golden border is delicate and smooth, the paper surface feels smooth, and there is no trace of scratches and grains of garbage. It is obvious that it is often handled.

As for the content of the oil painting, it was three lifelike beauties, who were dressed in black veils, revealing snow-white skin and beautiful figures.

The three ladies were bare toes, shoulder to shoulder, sitting in a pile, exuding an ethereal and elegant temperament, like elves taking a nap in the mountains. Out of the oil painting.

There is no doubt that this painting is unforgettable.

The Oakes brothers also went under the oil painting, and they were fascinated by it.

Only Roy glanced at the oil painting and confirmed that it was an ordinary item. He searched the bed for himself, and found a yellowish and thin book - "The Omniscient She".

"It is said that Velen originally had four wives. The fairy mother came from a faraway land, and her loneliness made her miserable, so she made three daughters out of soil and water..."

"Roy, what did you find?"

"A legendary story..." Roy glanced at the oil painting, "It's probably about the origins of the three ladies above."

"Listen to it, kid."

The snake demon hunters all gathered around and listened to Roy's story:

"A long time ago, Velen had only one ruler, and she was called the Fairy Mother, who created three daughters because of her loneliness, and the four women lived happily together.

But the good times didn't last long. For some unknown reason, the fairy mother began to lose her senses, became cruel and cruel, and then became more and more crazy, and she was going to bloody the whole Weilun, so her three daughters stood up and killed the fairy. mother, and sealed her soul under the Whispering Hills.

From then on, the three Lady of the Woods ruled Velen, enjoying the sacrifices of the inhabitants of Velen, while granting them good harvests and health. "

...

After a long time, the witcher said thoughtfully, "The three women in the oil painting are Madam in the Woods?"

"More precisely, they are called Weaver Po, Cook Po, and Whisper Po." Roy said to himself, and then explained, "But I don't think the content of this book can be trusted. The beautiful and kind descriptions in the book, It is definitely used by Mrs. Lin Zhong to beautify herself. I have seen the opposite introduction in another ancient book, Mrs. Lin Zhong is by no means a good stubborn."

"The weaver knitted clothes with human hair, and the man outside gave her half of his head's hair and eyebrows. The cook is good at cooking any meat. If I'm not wrong, that farmer has no legs. The Whisperer cut off his ear and put it somewhere in Velen as her eyes and ears."

Everyone was stunned for a moment, and for a while they failed to connect the beauty on the oil painting with the heinous crime in Roy's mouth.

"So the Whisperer bewitched Carl?"

Everyone turned their heads in unison, only to see that Phrius entered the house at an unknown time.

"Huh? Didn't I let you guard outside?"

"Don't worry, I knocked the guy unconscious, and he won't wake up for a while."

"Carl?"

"Karl was watching him outside and following me for so many days, he should do his best."

"Oops!"

Roy shouted, and just after he finished speaking, crisp screams and smirks came from outside the door.

When the witcher rushed out the door in a hurry, he could only see a group of black crows flying through the air, like a dark cloud, disappearing into the sky in the blink of an eye.

And Carl disappeared, and there was only a peasant who had been cut into a stick on the ground.

He was lying on the cold ground, spitting out blood and pieces of internal organs, and his eyes flashed with despair, unwillingness and pain.

He twitched a few times and took his last breath.

And on his chest, several striking characters are smeared with blood - Border Post (Lower Warren)