The curtain of the morning light slowly opened, everything was quiet, and the eastern horizon shone with a trace of light, carefully soaking the light blue sky.

The moist wind swept gently, caressing everything slightly, and quietly left.

The pale daylight also occupies every corner, painting the wilderness with a dreamy color.

Thorne woke up from his slumber when the dawn came to light,

He glanced at Andrina, who was still sleeping beside him. Her charming face still had the bright red from last night's joy, and she looked satisfied, tired and lazy. She still seemed to be sleeping soundly and deeply .

Thorne got up slowly, shielded the soft silk quilt from her beautiful spring light, then leaned over and kissed the sorceress's side face, tidied up his gear, and left silently, even though he knew she was in fact. Pretending to be asleep.

He left the town of Falls and walked through the bushes on a flat business road towards the Forest of Tranquility, which was cast by the light of dawn.

A flock of crows flew across the avenue, quacking, and they flew to the Emerald Fields, to the Falls, to the Fortress of the Watch and the Great Sword Mark Mountains.

Thorne was walking in the dense jungle, feeling the mist around him and the cheerful birdsong in the forest. His slightly reluctant and sad heart was gradually hidden in the depths of his heart, and he regained his former composure again. with calm.

Near noon, Thorne, who was halfway through his journey, appeared on a flat forest trade road.

He found that the place was crowded with cars, his walking speed slowed down involuntarily, and he walked over curiously to check.

There seems to be an accident in front of this commercial road leading to Twin Towers Town, so that all the caravans and carriages are blocked here, unable to move at all.

The fresh air of the woods was filled with the noise of the crowd, the impatient humming of the animals, and the stench of all kinds of dung.

Thorne glanced at the muddy woodland and thick brush on either side of the road.

Although he could easily leap through the forest and bypass the obstacles in front of him, driven by curiosity, he couldn't help but lean up.

"What's going on ahead?" Thorne asked the two drivers as he came to the last van.

He smelled the salty smell of sea fish and guessed that the truck should come from a sunset fishing village on the coast in the southeast of Tranquil Forest.

The aboriginal residents there mainly make a living by fishing. Since the Hobgoblin was driven away, they often haul truckloads of dried salted fish or fresh live fish to Pushang Town for sale.

Thorne found that the two human coachmen were about fifty or sixty years old.

One of them was dozing off, the other was chewing a straw in his mouth, wondering if he was hungry or just to pass the time.

Seeing that the two ignored him, he raised his voice and continued, "Has anyone been attacked? Could it be the goblin bandits?"

Although the Forest of Tranquility is also full of various evil humanoids and ferocious beasts, this forest is not very far from the town of waterfalls, and has a commercial road leading to the city of Saiput.

Therefore, under the protection of various adventurers, caravan guards, and rangers who regularly patrol the Temple of Merika, this vital trade route is almost difficult to see infested beasts and monsters.

Unless there are occasional beasts with strong strength but not very good brains, or hobgoblin and bear goblin bandits hiding in the depths of the jungle.

The dozing old coachman woke up, moved his chin, scolds the restless mules, and slaps their buttocks with the reins.

Another old man who was chewing straw also came to his senses. He lifted his straw hat to reveal his eyes, turned the straw to the other corner of his mouth, and looked at Thorne in front of him.

The old man looked at the half-elf in the black cloak, his turbid eyes glanced at the sheathed sword hanging from his waist, a look of fear flashed in his eyes, and the well-informed he said in a slightly respectful tone:

"My lord, this road has been blocked. It has continued from the dawn of the day until now. Although the big guy is very anxious, we can only wait patiently here."

"Road closure? Why..." Thorne was about to continue asking when he suddenly found a thin half-elf sitting under a stout birch tree not far away.

With one hand, he was carefully stroking the sound of the harp in his arms, while the other hand was using branches to paint on the wet soil. The painting was of a woman with rich details and an unusual and realistic angle.

Next to the half-elf sat a snot-snoring little boy. While pushing the little fur cap on top of his head, he looked at the woman painted on the ground with big eyes as blue as the sky.

The little slug opened his mouth wide in surprise, and the gap between the baby teeth was surprisingly large.

"Little green-haired idiot!" Suddenly, a gorgeously dressed lady walked under the birch tree, she shouted, stretched out her hand and grabbed the collar of her son's wolfskin cloak and dragged him away like a shrew Cursing the half-elf who paints:

"Come with me now! I've told you so many times, don't talk to the scumbags passing by. This lowly third-rate minstrel will take you down, look what disgusting things he's painting. "

After speaking, she couldn't help but look at the clay painting on the ground more.

"However, his paintings are very interesting, they are bigger than yours, and..."

The little slug stared innocently at the lady's chest, trying to explain something, but was slapped by the embarrassed mother, and then stepped on the half-elf's just finished painting, stomping hard as if she couldn't understand her hatred. With a few feet, the opponent's hard work was completely destroyed, and finally he dragged his son away by force.

The half-elf threw away the branch in his hand, stuck it on the soil, glared at the lady angrily, and was about to open his mouth to spray, when a pair of pale green eyes found a half-elf beside the truck looking at him.

"Thorn! What a coincidence to meet you here too."

The half-elf ignored the bitch, trotted over, and said excitedly, "It's a surprise! You must have been invited here by them, right?"

It was the half-elf bard Gilt at this time.

He wears a dark black dome hat decorated with a long egret feather, a white shirt and a pale green jacket with the emblem of the town of Falls embroidered: a longbow and a sharp sword , with a dark cyan tower in the background.

The first thing Thorne recognized in the other's outfit was the black hat and an egret feather that had been painted an eerie purplish red.

As a bard, this fellow is well known in all the realms of the Emerald Fields.

Hotels and taverns are well known—especially those with special services, where his obscene words can always be heard.

"What's going on here?" Thorne asked straight to the point, too lazy to push him too hard.

"Wait a minute!" Gilt stopped Thorne with a serious look.

He didn't answer the Ranger's question, but stared at his face with a pair of small pale green eyes, rubbed his chin with one hand, looked at it carefully, and nodded from time to time.

"Deep eye sockets, sluggish steps, dry lips, trembling hands, weak speech... Brother, you are the sequelae of overindulgence."

The bard, who finally came to a conclusion, looked him up and down with a smirk, then deliberately glanced in the direction of the tower, and guessed in a wicked way: "You spent the night in a sorceress' dress, Did you just get out?"

"Clang!"

As soon as the voice fell, a pale blue light flashed, and the air was torn apart.

"Ah..." The pig-killing scream sounded, attracting the attention of most people, and the little boy with a runny nose took this opportunity to disappear.

The unharmed Gilt hurriedly took off the black dome hat on his head and stared at the only small piece of egret feathers with a painful look on his face.

The long egret feathers were cut into five or six pieces by the sword light.

"Go ahead." Thorne touched the hilt with his right hand and gave him a look, and the bard's resentful gaze finally returned to normal.

However, the expression on his face is still hanging on his face, making people want to go up and kick his **** again.

The poet put on his dome hat again, straightened slowly and methodically, then grabbed his harp, plucked the strings vigorously, and said with a smile:

"I want to know what happened, I can tell you, which version do you want to listen to? Classical Chinese version? Lyrical prose version?

Thorne regretted provoking this group. He cursed inwardly and said impatiently, "The normal version is fine."

"Okay! As you wish, listen carefully." Gilt didn't care about the ranger's tone, and answered happily, plucked the beautiful strings, and sang:

"When the goddess Shar clothed the sky with the stars, the people of the world should put on the cloak of the night. It was a little cold today, but the night was still fresh and cool. It was late, and a lone knight came from the west, the last ray of The setting sun fell on him, leaving behind a rose-colored halo, and a long figure..."

Singing and singing, the bard noticed that the ranger's eyes became unkind, and he shuddered with fright, complaining stubbornly: "Isn't this common? Well, well, I see, keep it simple, keep it short , Do not use metaphors or exaggeration.

A knight from Twin Towers passed by here late last night and was killed by a dragon. "