Cong Xi Yi Ren Kai Shi Mang Chuan Zhong Gu

The vague peek made the doctor quietly hold the musket in his pocket, and Roald knew that the Emerald Staff was also paying attention to this incident.

Apart from the Bretonnian cities whose reputations spread across the Old World, there are few places as beloved by the followers of Slaanesh as Middenheim.

Roald didn't want to conflict with them. Most of Slannis's cults were related to the rich. Roald was just a doctor. Those important members of the Emerald Staff who developed in the upper echelons only needed a nod to make him suffer. Suffering.

If the knights of the White Wolf City were mobilized from the front line again, they might even dare to kill Roald directly.

The doctor was more afraid of the Sons of Ulric than of this cult.

This is an open cult, and the White Wolf Knights will not even cleanse them, because the god worshiped by the Sons of Ulric is Ulric, the God of the North, but they still abide by extreme teachings.

There are always some fools who think that they are the descendants of Ulric left in the world. Those cruel white wolf priests are not as extreme as them. In this civilized era, it is no longer worthwhile to trick wolves into attacking humans in order to test their courage. Highly recommended.

Only those who think they have courage are willing to take the initiative to trigger this trial and go alone in the wilderness to find and hunt winter wolves to prove their bravery. The worst outcome for them is to become martyrs.

Even the current Middenheim officials are afraid that the Son of Ulric will create martyrs. Roald does not want to be the unlucky guy selected by the Son of Ulric for the trial.

They always like to target the warriors who travel at this time. The worst thing is that even if they cost lives, the ruler of Middenheim will only reprimand them.

The law prohibits the extreme worship of the sons of Ulric, but in Middenland, this is not as effective as prohibiting dwarves from drinking. At least the dwarves will tell the person who promulgated the law to his face that this is nonsense.

Some of the more extreme sons of Ulric, such as the Bloodbearers, even dared to attack the Ulric Church. Only those priests who could cast magical spells and were considered favored by the god Ulric could be spared. .

For Roald, this was simply ridiculous. These people had long been killed by the army in Rickland.

As a Reikland man, he could not understand the natives' admiration for brutality.

He was afraid of being mistaken for a Sigmar disciple and then being attacked by Ulric's fanatical worshipers.

Carrying the anxiety he had experienced along the way, Roald successfully left the cemetery at midnight.

He walked on the newly built streets, taking the initiative to avoid all objects that made noise, whether it was night patrol guards or unknown drunkards.

There seemed to be roars of wild beasts deep in the sewers. The doctor did not want to pay attention to this. Perhaps there was an unknown cult that led the beastmen underground. As long as they did not come up to attack Roald at this time, the doctor was willing to pretend that he had never heard anything from the underground. echo.

Middenheim is an enlightened city. It can accommodate wild wizards who are not from the Imperial Academy of Magic. It can accommodate large or small extremist organizations and various ideas. Naturally, it can also accommodate a small group of beastmen.

Of course, it can only be done underground. The city's guards are not just for free.

Roald returned to the hotel where he stayed safely. At this time, the pub was still open and there were still some people drinking.

The owner of the tavern is a gentle middle-aged man. Newspapers and books are not common in taverns.

Maybe he finally found a sober person. He complained to Roald about the drunkard who was sleeping soundly on the wine table. From time to time, he also took the opportunity to express some personal political opinions.

At least Roald could not see the inaction of the Middenheim authorities or the tragedy of the poor people from a few drunkards.

This damn guy is a New Millenniumist and he should go to the streets and speak to the guards, at least that way he will get a response instead of being ignored by passers-by.

Goddess Verena will hide her face for these stupid worshipers, who always like to throw out complicated conspiracy theories, while discriminating against the ignorance of the general public, while claiming that they are speaking for the crowd.

Obviously, in Middenheim, these extreme followers of Verena who think they are influential are just delusional.

With a stiff smile on his face, the doctor said goodbye to the speaker in the tavern and headed straight to his private room on the second floor.

His room was on the side closest to the street, and the only neighbor next to him was a strange man.

The lady with the extraordinary conversation spent most of the time looking at the street in a daze, and Roald was more willing to believe that she was deep in thought.

After gently unlocking the door, the doctor returned to the room and cleaned it briefly to prevent anyone from tracking him by scent, then went to sleep.

Half asleep and half awake, Roald was guided by invisible forces and left his body.

Like a grandson being supported by his grandfather, Roald followed the guiding force with great obedience and floated into the next room.

He looked blankly at the lady sitting on the table and chair meditating, as well as the letters spread out on the table by the mysterious woman.

By the light, Roald could see the names of other people written on the letters, and he recognized several of them.

Clearly, these were not letters addressed to the woman, they were opened without permission.

After the woman read the letter, she restored the opened letter to its original state with just a gentle touch, leaving no trace behind.

After reading a dozen letters, the woman began to hurriedly write down the important contents in a record book. After she finished everything, she waved her hand, and a crow flew from the open window sill.

The force pulling Roald disappeared, seeming to remind the doctor what to do next, but in a state of confusion, he could not respond directly. Instead, he stared blankly at the lady with good temperament.

It wasn't until the woman tied the letter to the crow's leg, sent the crow away, and glanced suspiciously at the open space where Roald was that he suddenly shuddered.

He hurriedly drifted towards his room, escaping into his body as if fleeing for his life.

Bump...bump.

Subtle, three consecutive knocks on the door woke Roald up from his sleepwalking adventure.

The bone-piercing chill foreshadows the impending doom. There is no doubt that the figure that can make Roald dream is a warlock.

Maybe he should simply embrace the core of the Tilian Society instead of lingering on the outside and only acquire the superficial medical knowledge of the Society.

At least that would give him the power to resist at this time.

It's too late to regret now.

In the central mountains, dawn brings relief to the people who have not seen the sun for a long time. Ironically, there is only darkness in the shadow forest, but the cursed town brings them back to the light.