The Divine Hunter

"Haha..." Francis laughed exaggeratedly, until the bridge of his nose showed two nasolabial lines that were beyond his apparent age.

And the two fangs disappeared again.

There was not a trace of anger and anger on his face when the secret was revealed, as if he had finished listening to a comedy.

"You're too talented as a witcher. With your rich imagination, you can become a writer and create an interracial romance novel. Well... I've thought of the title for you, it's called "Infatuated Vampire" With the Merry Lady". I happen to know a few publishing houses, although they are reluctant to publish my wonderful poetry collection, but their business ability is barely reasonable, I can introduce you."

His dark pupils flickered playfully,

"You know, the aesthetics of those upper-class aristocrats are actually more serious than those of mud legs. I have a hunch that these romance novels will definitely be very popular, and they will be sold out of stock, enough to make you a lot of money. At that time. With a reputation as a best-selling author, what kind of down-and-out witcher are you?"

Roy's eyes swept across the coroner's face. The latter looked extremely relaxed, either with superb acting skills, or...

"Don't admit it? It doesn't matter... I expected that no vampire would reveal his identity to a strange witcher. Even the kindness, right? After all, I know quite a few high-level vampires of the kindness, such as one The guy named Regis."

Roy lied without blinking his eyelids, "Can you believe it? A four-hundred-year-old high-level vampire would remain anonymous in the countryside of Soden, become a country doctor and part-time hairdresser. Tsk tsk...how much. A hospitable, fun-talking guy."

Roy captured the change in the expression on Francis' face, which was a faint memory of nostalgia and memory. Although it was fleeting, it was a good signal.

Roy continued to empty his memory and added more chips, "There are only more than 2,000 people of your kind on the mainland, and you have lived for more than 300 years. Maybe you happen to know Regis, one of them? By the way, in Temeri In the trading district of Vizima, the capital of Asia, there lives a glamorous kin of yours who runs a brothel. She is often called the Queen of the Night..."

Francis finally withdrew all his hippie smiles, and stared at Roy with his arms crossed and said solemnly, "I'm wrong. You know a lot about young witchers. Come with me, peacock flowers are not suitable for talking too much. serious topic."

After speaking, he turned and left the pub, while Roy bit his head and followed carefully.

out of the tavern,

The clear moonlight fell on the two of them, and Roy, who was walking behind, saw through perception that the phantom of Francis' bat began to gently flap the fleshy wings with ferocious bone spurs, like a black hole emitting unknown radiation. Absorb all the moonlight.

"Higher vampires are really a unique race." Roy was secretly envious, they didn't need any training, and their strength naturally increased as they got older. And the upper limit is very high. If you live long enough, you will become a terrifying existence like Elder Shadow.

Not long after walking, Francis stopped in a dark alley when the hustle and bustle of the downtown had completely dissipated. He leaned against the wall and wiped the palm of his right hand with his left hand, as if he was wiping a peerless weapon.

"Witcher, you're not afraid that I'll kill you if you follow me like this?"

Saying this sentence, the huge bat phantom suddenly opened its eyes, revealing a fierce light.

"After killing you, my identity will not be exposed."

Roy shook his head as if nothing had happened, feeling the real murderous aura on the guy, and goose bumps appeared on his skin.

"According to my investigation, in order to maintain the purity of the ceremony, the person who presides during the prayer ceremony of the Sun Sect will not be contaminated with blood other than sinners."

"This is also the reason why you show mercy to those knights who are chasing after them? Six sinners have been killed, and the last one is left. I don't think you will break the rules in advance and fall short."

"Ah?" Francis seemed to hear a big joke. "You think I'm a murderer? Still messing around with that inexplicable Sun Cult ceremony?"

"Sorry..." There was a trace of pity in the vampire's eyes, as if he was looking at a lost person who had gone to a dead end. "You seem to have made a mistake from the beginning. I happen to be not the serial killer you call me, and I don't care about purity. Be merciful."

"And it's not the Knights who are chasing after them, it's you...you witchers! If you offend me..."

"how is this possible!"

Roy's face sank when he heard the words, he secretly clenched his hands full of cold sweat, his consciousness focused on the alchemy bomb in the space, and he was ready at any time, "It doesn't matter if you don't want to admit it now. I can 'forget' all of this. The Witcher reputation of the Serpent School promises that as long as you tell me Leto's whereabouts and hand him over to me, I won't get involved in this series of murders again."

"Naive!" Francis spread his hands, "and where is the witcher now, dead or alive, and what does it have to do with me?"

Roy's voice was getting lower and lower, "You... if you weren't the murderer, why did Leto set an ambush against you in the first place!"

He gradually had a bad premonition.

Francis looked up at the bright moon in the sky,

"I'm not hiding it from you...your teacher also discovered my true identity during the investigation. But I have to admit that in terms of quick thinking, he is not as good as you. It took a whole month to catch me...he Chose a different, more brutal and direct approach to contact from yours."

"The bald witcher seems to prefer fighting to communicate. That night, the night he threatened to reveal my identity, I saw hatred and anger in his eyes. Hatred for no reason. I don't understand why the master witcher is Would stubbornly believe that a 'law-abiding' high-level vampire is a greater threat than a serious disturbing serial killer?"

"But his strength is worth my full effort. In retrospect, it's been a long time since I moved my muscles and bones so comfortably, and after that night of fighting, I couldn't even think about dealing with the injury - the endless inspiration flooded me."

Francis licked his lips and pinched his slender fingers until Kaz rattled.

Roy felt a sense of confusion spreading in his heart, and it seemed that the higher vampire had no need to lie to him, a novice witcher.

But if he really wasn't the murderer, why did Letho hunt him in the first place? Francis described Letso as such a hated, hated vampire.

Witchers don't seem to be so impulsive. Roy, who has been with him for several months, has almost never seen his feelings leak out. But he remembered something and was relieved.

"Lesso once told me that one of his friends died tragically at the hands of a bat-wing brain demon. And the bat-wing brain demon is an extremely dangerous low-level vampire... He has always had a 'grudge'."

"What's the result of your battle?"

"Both losers, but he passed out, and I still have the energy to escape," the vampire's face showed extreme excitement, "Master Witcher is very well prepared, and the strength is the only one I've seen in my life—"

He lifted the hem of his black lace shirt, and two hideous scars appeared on his abdomen.

"The witcher's sword oil is as difficult as the rumors say..." The vampire said with fear, "So far my wounds can't heal."

The scars are like two twisted centipedes, spanning his entire abdomen from left to right, and the flesh rolls are faintly turned. You can see the pink fresh flesh squirming, trying to stick together but being covered by a layer of gray substance. blocked.

"Vampire sword oil, the effect will last for a week, and you have to endure it for a few days." Roy asked again, "So is Leto, who fought with you, seriously injured?"

"He's not feeling well either. He probably has half his life left. In other words, did this guy drink something weird, and his blood actually contains highly poisonous poison, or I'd have sucked him into a dick."

After he finished speaking, he said to Roy half provocatively and half bewitched, "Young witcher, my injuries are not healed, and my fighting power is poor, do you want to try to get rid of my monster, by the way for you the teacher's revenge?"

Roy scolded secretly in his heart. The state of the vampires in the observation was all question marks, not bad at all. The impact of the abdominal wound was not as serious as it seemed, and he would not rashly provoke the other party.

"If according to what you said, you left the half-dead Letho and fled. Where did he go? The pursuers only found this sword there!"

"Can't you guess? Who else would hide a badly wounded witcher than the real murderer?" said the vampire without thinking.

The young man was shocked, and he remembered a clue that he ignored——

When he inspected the disappearance scene that day, two "ribbons" appeared in the witcher's senses. Now it seems that one belongs to the high-level vampire, and the other belongs to Leto, the witcher who was taken away by the murderer.

The two "ribbons" separated just outside Hanged Alley.

So, Francis wasn't the murderer?

"As far as the real murderer is concerned, the witcher is meddling in his arrangements after all, sabotaging the ritual. The murderer will naturally hate him, and find an opportunity to plot against the weak witcher," Francis said.

"What did you just say, can you repeat it again?" Roy asked suddenly and eagerly.

Francis was a little surprised, but still replied, "It's not surprising to count the weak witcher..."

"The previous sentence..."

"Murderers will naturally hate him, hate these witchers who are rambunctious!"

Roy's eyes flashed with light, and he thought of some traces he had missed before.

"Assuming that the real murderer captured Letho. In order to ensure his purity before he completed the ceremony, he shouldn't have killed Letho, but locked him up?" Roy muttered to himself.

"So—witcher, stop pestering me, a quiet alien! Go find the real murderer and save your teacher!"

"You just let me go?" Roy was a little surprised. Why did this kind-hearted vampire play cards unreasonably, "Let me save the witcher who is going to kill you?"

"You will tell him, that big fool has the wrong target from beginning to end. If I am not a murderer, will he still haunt me?" Francis said, smiling mysteriously, "And for poets, inspiration is Life. I've already typed a new psalm, inspired by your investigations with that savage, and it's called The Feast."

"In order to be grateful for the hard-won inspiration, I let you all go."

Francis patted his sleeve, his pale face sank.

"But remember, Roy, and your teacher who misjudged the murderer, don't reveal my identity to the public, and don't disturb my peaceful life again... Otherwise, I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth!"

In the cold voice, Francis' blood-red eyes stared at the air,

"Did you see that, man?"

"what did you see?"

Is this a change of mind?

Roy's expression tightened, and he took a step back, with an alchemy bomb and a hand crossbow in his hands behind him.

"Keep quiet...listen carefully."

"Inspiration is like a rootless spring, and it comes—"

The high-level vampire didn't look at him at all, suddenly turned around and faced the empty street.

Under the moonlight, the tung trees on both sides of the road swayed their leaves, and the leaves circled around him like ribbons. He held his head high and paced gently.

"The other day

Isn't darkness the dormant sun?

the palace

Isn't the high wall the rock that enslaves the world?

that bone-chilling

Isn't hatred the love that has been trampled on?

that moving

life--

Isn't it a delayed death? "

The rhythm of the cadenced poem did not dissipate, and the ferocious blood-colored bat shadow instantly turned into a gust of wind and disappeared into the deep night.

...

"Finally gone, the neurotic poet."

After a long time, Roy sat down on the ground, let out a long sigh of relief, and wiped the cold sweat from his palms and forehead... Just after a conversation, the high-level vampire brought him endless pressure.

He was worried about saying the wrong word and angering the other party.

It was finally safe.

But he didn't have time to relax and re-examine all the cases.

The murderer is not the high-level vampire Francis, so who could it be?

The day the witcher and Dennis Kramer set up an ambush, the real killer entered the fight before the dwarves and took the wounded witcher.

Why was he reacting so quickly that he happened to meet him?

Do not!

Roy thought hard, found a blind spot, and thought of another answer-the murderer was an inner ghost!

The more he thought about it, the more he thought it was possible!

The murderer continued to commit crimes around the palace without leaving any clues, and he was able to rush to the scene before the dwarves and take away the witcher - either the Knight of the White Rose or the Prince's Guard!

Both forces are well aware of the case, and they are under in-depth investigation.

Only when one's own person knows one's own person best, can he handle the hands and tails without knowing it.

...

The murderer is presiding over a secret ritual of the Sun Cult.

Then he himself, or his ancestors have ties to Nilfgaard, worship the Sun Cult, and he can identify the suspect by investigating the background of all the knights and the prince's guards.

A knight who worships the Cult of the Sun? Thinking stopped again - Roy suddenly recalled what the dwarf said in his mind,

"Patrick Latin was originally a great noble of the Nasser Kingdom south of Sintra."

"However, since Nasser was annexed by Nilfgaard and turned into a province, some of the descendants of this big family migrated to Temeria and settled there. Generations of people shed their blood for the kingdom and earned the status of nobles. ."

There seemed to be that handsome blond face in front of him - his ancestors came from Nasser occupied by Nilfgaard - Knight of the White Rose Simon Patrick Latin.

Could it be the murderer who believed in the Sun Cult?