The desert is not a place where you can escape.

"Sons of the Desert?"

Kailanbul frowned. The so-called "Sons of the Desert" is a group of bandits who do all kinds of evil in the desert.

These people robbed everywhere, and even among the desert people, they were hated by everyone.

Why did they know that they had obtained the secret of the Desert God's Treasure?

"Since they knew, why did they tell you?"

Kailanbul put the scimitar against his five fingers, and the sharp blade sank into the skin of his five fingers, and the blood oozing out dyed his palm red.

"I exchanged food and water with them." Albani cried:

"I knew about the Desert God's Treasure three years ago, but I didn't care at the time..."

"I only recently discovered that the Desert God's Treasure might be real. The people of the Son of the Desert also wanted to find you at the beginning, but they had no food and water at the time."

"So you came to catch me?" Kailanbul raised the scimitar gently, and then chopped it down fiercely.

"Ah ah - let me go - let me go! I told you everything I should know."

Albany, whose five fingers were cut off, had snot running down his nose and leaned in a corner.

"Mr. Dotore..." Kailanbul looked at the doctor.

She needed to confirm whether the other party was lying.

After the doctor confirmed that he was not lying, he regained his consciousness.

"Leave it to you, I will leave Shelavia first, remember to report to the Kingdom of Winter."

The doctor glanced at Mirandiel and left here. The things here had nothing to do with him anymore.

"Mr. Dotore, thank you very much."

Mirandiel nodded. He would not break his promise. Moreover, after seeing the doctor's methods, he dared not not report to the Kingdom of Winter.

"Mirandiel, you..."

After the doctor left, Kailanbul looked at him with a bitter face. She certainly understood that this was the price of saving her.

"Queen, you are the key to our tribe. If an elf tribe does not have a queen, it will perish."

The social form of the elves has created the idea that the people of the Squirrel Party would rather die than protect the queen of the tribe.

Going to the Kingdom of Winter this time may be a good thing. Even if it becomes the subject of the doctor's research, it can protect its own tribe in the future.

"Okay, Queen, let's deal with this guy first."

Without time to be sentimental, Mirandiel walked in front of Albani and took out a dagger from his arms.

"You...what are you going to do? I've told you everything."

"You don't think we'll let you go, do you?"

Mirandiel's eyes flashed with coldness. Of course, he wouldn't let Albani go. This guy killed his compatriots and imprisoned the queen. He couldn't vent his hatred without killing him.

In fact, Albani didn't believe that these people would let him go. It was just the instinct of survival that was at work.

"Ah--uh--"

The dagger pierced his throat fiercely, and blood sprayed on Mirandiel's face. He didn't show any expression, and continued to cut his head off with a strong stroke.

"Queen, please take this guy's head back to your hometown to comfort those dead compatriots."

"I know."

Kaylanbul took Albani's head and said, "I also hope that you can be safe in the Kingdom of Winter, that doctor..."

She understood that the Squirrel Party paid a huge price to save her, but she could only watch helplessly and couldn't help at all. This feeling of powerlessness made her very uncomfortable.

"It's okay. The doctor said he wouldn't turn us into irrational beasts."

Milandir no longer cared about how the doctor would study them.

On the other side, the doctor was walking on the streets of Shelavia. It was late at night and there was no one around. The dim street lights stretched his shadow very long.

The sky was full of stars, making people unconsciously indulge in the beauty of the universe.

"The plan to create an artificial indigenous god has also begun. Use the flesh and blood of the elves as a blueprint, and then create an unconscious indigenous god..."

"Finally, let our god destroy it."

"Entity, your plan is old-fashioned, but it is very useful."

——————

Dragnok, or now it should be called Mond.

Since Marcus was beheaded and many nobles were collectively hanged, Mond has ushered in unprecedented changes.

First of all, the people who once had numb expressions, after the complete destruction of slavery, their smiles of yearning for a better life are increasing.

The Knights of Favonius have also received

During this period, Jean recruited many people to join the Knights of Favonius, including many spellcasters.

The newly established Favonius Church is also widely loved by the people here. As a church that believes in the God of Wind, they are quite respected in this land.

In the square not far from the Favonius Church, many craftsmen are busy carving statues for the God of Wind. Most of the craftsmen come voluntarily for free.

In a lively tavern, people sat on stools, holding wine glasses, and gathered around a young man to listen to his poems:

"Recalling the ancient events, the poet began to sing. The gods live in the mortal world, and the human world has been here for a few years."

"The story I want to tell starts in Mond a thousand years ago..."

After the poem was finished, someone laughed with a glass of wine in his hand: "Hey, bard, we don't know whether what you sang is true or not. Who knows if you made it up?"

"Yes, all kinds of stories about the wind god have been circulating recently."

"What about the wind god summoning a storm and destroying a country in anger for his beloved girl a thousand years ago."

"Someone has produced evidence that the wind god Barbatos actually has descendants, and they are the only bloodline of the wind god..."

"And your hairstyle is also imitating the wind god. Recently, when you go out, you can see people on the street wearing this hairstyle."

Wendy listened to the people in the tavern talking about it. He didn't know when he destroyed a country for his beloved girl and left behind his bloodline.

"Everyone, no matter how good my singing is, if you think it's good, shouldn't you buy me a drink?"

"You sang really well, I'll buy you a drink!"

"Thank you very much." Wendy smiled at the man and took the wine glass from the bartender.

"Apple wine, it's really good."

Wendy put the wine glass to her nose, closed her eyes and smelled it, sighed, and then drank it all.

"Gulp Gulp--"

"The cider here is really great!"

Wendy gave the bartender a thumbs up, then stood up: "Everyone, today's performance ends here. I hope to see you again if there is a chance."

"May the wind god bless you."

"May the wind god bless you, the bard."

After saying goodbye to the people in the tavern, Wendy left here. Looking at the people coming and going, he stretched his body:

"The weather is good. Where should I go to get a drink later?"

Not far away, Dorothy looked at Wendy's lazy back speechlessly.

She still couldn't figure out why such a powerful god liked to get a drink everywhere.

Is this the so-called "the intention of the gods is hard to guess"?

Well, it's not hard to guess. As long as you give him wine, he can play poems for you all day.

"Lord Barbatos, don't let those people know that you are getting a drink every day."

Dorothy prayed in her heart.

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