"Dragon? Impossible." Thorne looked moved, but his eyes were full of suspicion when he looked at Gilt.

What a joke.

If there is really a dragon doing evil in the Serene Forest, the tower spirit of the wizard tower has already reported to him, and he is definitely the first to know.

Just like the young white dragon he killed, Taring helped him lock the position before he went to do it. Otherwise, it is impossible to easily search for the figure of the white dragon in the Great Sword Mark Mountains.

As for the green dragon, since the fight with the copper dragon in the Shadowmoon Inner Sea three years ago, this fellow has been watched by the Nightingale Walker in the Emerald Garden.

It is impossible for the other party to come out of the hole so arrogantly at this time to make trouble, hiding in the lair and relying on innate advantages, maybe no one is afraid, if they dare to run out, it is purely courting death.

The half-elf druid with a legendary level of strength will definitely arrange him clearly.

"My lord, let me tell you." An old coachman who had talked with Thorne took the initiative to come over. He obviously saw the skills of the other party just now, so his tone became more respectful than before:

"Because there was a cruel man-eating monster nearby, a knight passed by on horseback late last night and was knocked down by the monster. I heard that it twisted off the knight's head and helmet, and even disemboweled the horse. The beast was so ferocious that it caused blood on the road to flow like a river..."

"What monster." Thorne leaned against the smelly carriage and glanced at Gilt. He found that these people's words were not important, and they always liked to talk about it, which made him speechless.

So he directly interrupted the old coachman who seemed to be in the scene and depicted the monster to life, and asked the question he was most concerned about right now: "Is it really a dragon?"

Although he has already guessed that it is not a real dragon, he still needs to confirm it finally.

"Of course it's a dragon." Gilt approached Thorne and replied with a smile: "But it's not a real dragon, it's a sub-dragon, what's it called? ... Oh! I remember it, it's called Fulong beast. ."

"That's right, it's the dragon beast." The old coachman in the straw hat glared at the bard who was standing in front of him, making him unable to express his enthusiasm, pushed his thin body aside arrogantly, and continued:

"Its small wings can fly, and its body is terrifyingly large, and its size can be worth four third-rate bards."

The old coachman gestured at the thin poet's body, and the spittle splashed onto the poet's brand-new jacket.

"And it's very cruel. We thought it killed the knight and flew away, but it didn't! The son of a **** sat down in the middle of the road, screaming! Showing his sharp fangs... So This trade route is like a third-rate minstrel's throat with a tavern bitch's **** stuck in its throat, and no one can get through it."

"You old man, didn't I just touch your precious daughter's little **** half a year ago? You need to hold revenge like this."

The humiliated bard finally couldn't bear it any longer. Taking advantage of his unpreparedness, he immediately picked up a rein from the carriage and pulled it towards the old coachman's straw hat.

"You're a mother-in-law, and you're a dirty bard."

However, the old man seemed to have been prepared for a long time, and he flexibly bent over to dodge, and snatched the reins.

Due to the inertia of the reins, the bard staggered and almost fell on a pile of warm horse dung.

"Shame." Thorne looked at the other party who couldn't even handle an old native resident, and couldn't help but complain. He couldn't bear to watch it any longer. It was a shame for their players.

"No!" At this time, while the two were fighting together, a little boy with a runny nose appeared out of nowhere, and he retorted in crisp words: "Fulong beast is not called that."

The little boy sniffed, stretched out his small hand towards Thorne and put it on his head, pulled his tender voice, imitated the dragon beast with his teeth and claws in an irregular manner, raised his little head and looked at the sky: " It's called: roar! roar!"

Thorne looked at the well-studied little boy in tears and laughed. In his dissatisfied eyes, he rubbed his little head like a small animal, and then asked a question: "The adventurers wandering nearby and No one cares about the caravan guards? Just watching?"

"How can no one care." After the battle, Gilt gently pushed away the little slug who was pulling his jacket and begging him to continue painting, and said:

"When the first caravan discovered the dragon beasts, it wasn't long before the skilled men unbuttoned the women's corsets - the caravan's two dwarves and four human guards set out to serve as well-known The dragon slayer warriors rushed forward with the steps of not recognizing six relatives."

"As a result, the monster sprayed poison gas, and the two fastest charging dwarves seemed to have cramps all over their bodies. They lay on the ground and kept crying and twitching. It looked like the guy below was spraying something after finishing the incident. It looks like it. Then it was torn to shreds by the sharp fangs of the Fulong beast. After the remaining few people saw it, they ran very fast. You are..."

Before the bard Gilt finished speaking, he was entangled by the little slug again.

Taking advantage of the poet's staring at the little slug, the old coachman quickly picked up the conversation and described Thorne vividly:

"These cowards ran away screaming before they could see what the Fulong Beast looked like. I heard that one of them was so scared that he peeed his pants. It was a shame."

"I know the boy who wets his pants. He is from our village. His mother is the crazy daughter of a lumberjack. The town soldier got a big belly, and then there is that poor little guy." Another old coachman finally picked up the words:

"Fortunately he ran fast enough, or else I will build a small but extremely beautiful tomb for him, and then engrave a line..."

"fart!"

The coachman in the straw hat interrupted his peers angrily, and he spat excitedly.

The spit nearly landed on the brim of the bard's hat, but he was smoothing out his new jacket, which had been ruffled by the fight and the slug's tugging, and didn't notice that he was almost in trouble, otherwise his jacket Add a few more folds on top.

And the little slug beside him, begging to no avail, inadvertently ran to Thorne again.

"You're just farting! Isn't that what I said? Didn't that crazy **** get a big belly by the beasts raised by the **** in Twin Towers?" The old coachman looked also very excited, his face flushed Roughly forcibly argued.

"The ogre disaster in the Desolate Skull Mountains happened more than fifty years ago. That was the little guy's grandmother."

Watching the two unreliable old coachmen who were digressing from the topic were rolling up their sleeves and quarreling with spittle, Thorne understood what he asked them, and probably couldn't find any useful information, so he might as well go ahead and take a look.

When he was about to leave, he found that the little boy with a runny nose trotted close to him, his small blue eyes staring straight at the weapon hanging from his waist.

"Are you a knight too?" the boy snorted and looked at him innocently.

"No." Thorne replied with a smile.

For some reason, looking at the little guy's appearance, his mood suddenly became lighter.

"But you also have a sword! My father is a knight of the White Rose Knights. He also has a sword, and it is bigger and wider than yours. You are definitely not my father's opponent, he is amazing!" The little boy Snorting, he proudly showed off to Thorne.

"How can I be my father's opponent, he is a knight." Thorne laughed and touched the little boy's head. Although he frowned his cute little brows and tried to dodge, how could he escape his attack.

Then Thorne prepares to leave.

"A **** with a runny nose, his face is not dry, don't pay attention to him. Go go! Go home and feed him."

The bard finally smoothed over his new pale green jacket, hugged his harp, leaned up to the ranger, walked side by side, and chased the little boy away like a fly.

"It's just a child, what do you do with his general knowledge?" Thorne glanced at him, thought about it, and asked, "Isn't there an adventure group formed by our players wandering here? Why is it noon, even Fulong? Beasts can't handle it."

As the trade route of Tranquility Forest became safer, it gradually led to a decline in the strength of the caravan's guards, but if so many people couldn't even handle a dragon beast, it would be too unreasonable.

"Of course I found it, it's like this." The little boy trotted to catch up with the two of them, wiped off the snot that couldn't be sucked up with his sleeve, and said, "The steward of the Moonstone Chamber of Commerce joins forces with a few small caravans. Invite the adventurers who happened to be wandering nearby to deal with the Fulong beast."

The leader of the adventure group carried a large sword on his shoulders, but without my father's knight swordsman, he was definitely not my father's opponent. He told the director of the Chamber of Commerce that his name was Galen.

The director of the Chamber of Commerce said that no matter what your name is, it’s good to work quickly, and he pointed out the location of the Fulong Beast. The adventurer glanced at it and said something strange to his companion. He said it was an absurdly large Fulong beast with a challenge level of at least level 8, and it was difficult to avoid breathing attacks. He also told the head of the chamber of commerce that as long as he paid 500 gold coins, they would kill it immediately. "

"500 gold?" the bard Geert asked in surprise. "Is he crazy? Or are you bragging on purpose?"

After the poet finished speaking, he waved the harp in his arms and pretended to smash him in the forehead.

The little boy was so frightened that he hid behind Thorne, stuck out his little head, wiped his nose with the ranger's cloak, and continued:

"The director of the Chamber of Commerce said the same thing, but the words are more pleasant. The adventurer named Garen said that killing the dragon beast is the same price, and it is the same everywhere, and also said that the absurdly large dragon beast will be on the way. Until the abyss demon comes.

The director of the Chamber of Commerce said who are you scaring? He won't pay so much, he can wait for the Fulong Beast to fly away. The adventurer said it was impossible, because it was hungry and cruel, and even if it flew away, it would return quickly, because this was its hunting territory.

And the knight he killed last night was in armor and had a hard time gnawing on the meat, because the dragon beast is not as good at **** as those third-rate bards in the tavern, it takes a long time to eat, it has to be slow Eat slowly and carefully so that you can eat all the meat clean.

So a few merchants came out and bargained with the adventurers, saying that they would find someone to pool the money, pay them 300 gold coins first, let them deal with the Fulong beasts blocking the way first, and wait for the rest in the town of Twin Towers Pay again.

That adventurer named Garen speaks very badly. He carried a big sword and told the Chamber of Commerce steward, "Fuck you, that is a dragon beast. It's old and dangerous. How about fooling your father?" Tell them to wipe their **** with the money they save, I won't bring my brother to death for this little money. "

Thorne couldn't help laughing as the little boy imitated the adventurer's tone of voice.

"And then?" Gilt, another listener, apparently also raised curiosity: "Go on."

"Don't interrupt, of course I will continue, I won't shut up at a critical moment." The little boy sniffed hard, raised his chest proudly to the poet, and continued:

"Listen, and then the director of the Chamber of Commerce started to swear and get angry. He said something worse than that adventurer named Garen. He said what the hell, aren't adventurers born to die? Adventurers are born to die. Isn't that what it's for? It's like the **** is made for shit.

But I could see that those merchants were afraid that the adventurers would leave in a fit of rage, so they said they were only willing to pay 450 gold coins, so the adventurer named Garen directly carried the long sword on his shoulder, led his two friends, Without looking back, he burrowed into the bushes and left in the direction of Waterfall Town.

The head of the chamber of commerce stomped his feet in anger, kept making vicious cursing gestures behind the three people, and spitting on the ground. The people at Falls and the rangers at the Temple of Merika did not clean up the monsters.

In the end, these merchants have raised the price to 600 gold coins, but no one is willing to shoot. The few adventurers who came over later just glanced at it and said that the dragon beast was too big to beat. That Chamber of Commerce manager is about to collapse..."

As the little boy was talking, he suddenly realized that the half-elf with the double swords had disappeared, so he looked up at the third-rate bard in front of him and said, "The nasty poet, where is your half-elf friend?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he noticed that there was a clamor from the woods in front of the team, and the drivers jumped into the car one after another, cursing and raising their whips at the bulls and horses, and the team began to move forward slowly.

Immediately afterwards, he was surprised to see the vanishing half-elf walking up to the third-rate bard with a purse.

Then, the snot-snoting kid was about to chase after him to ask, when he suddenly felt a tear-like pain in his ear.

"Damn it! Why do you always like to run around, you messy little thing! Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

The gorgeous lady tugged at her son's small ears and walked towards a slow-moving carriage cursing like a shrew.

"Hey, where are you going?" the bard Gilt asked after catching up with Thorne.

"Go to Twin Towers, then turn to Deep Rock City." Thorne replied without hesitation.

This was the itinerary he had already decided on.

Go to Deep Rock first, return the Holy Emblem and the Paladin Ring to the Temple of Ilmater, and take this opportunity to ask them to help with the Holy Enchantment of their Steel Soul Sword.

Then he went to the Northland Wasteland to find Guilun's Sleep in the ruins of the Three Wild Boars Town, the **** of tracking. He believed that the path of the ranger would definitely be found there.

After all, Gyren Storm is the patron saint of the Northland Rangers.

Then there is the Bow Monastery in the Lost Star Mountains and the icy cold in the far north of the wasteland.

"Just by the way, I'm going to Twin Towers Town." The bard heard the words, looked happy, and said with a smile.

"What are you doing in Twin Towers Town?" Thorne asked curiously.

This guy has been traveling in this world for five years, and he is still a level 1 bard. His skills are all focused on poetry and creation. It is a miracle that he can survive until now.

"You know my profession. I am a poet, and naturally I was born to create poetry." The poet holding the harp plucked the strings, and his expression suddenly became serious:

"Not long ago, I overheard a beautiful legend about the love between elf and lich, and the two protagonists of the legend were in the town of Twin Towers, which used to be the town of dawn. So, I wanted to go and see if I could Can collect some material related to it.”

It's Winster and Tidge. Thorne looked startled and thought to himself,

He remembered a legend about elves that Andrina once told him, and the goal this time would also have a little intersection with the ferryman Winster in the Astral Insight.