"Moden of the Flying Lion School? I haven't heard of it." The Serrit brothers narrowed their eyes and stared at a marked map. "Are you sure he left a blueprint of the school's equipment in a secret church in Towsent?"

"Roy, isn't this a prank that tricks us into the wilderness?"

"Believe me, Mo Deng is indeed a man in the flying lion monster, and the drawings are also real!"

"Little devil, what do you say about Koglim?" The bald man looked at another marked map, and was also full of doubts.

"Many years ago, the Grand Master of Evil Eye sent him to find the lost equipment blueprint of the Viper School. Who knew that this guy suddenly disappeared and lost contact with the school, and has not returned yet. Your ability... can you see him die in Temolia... the white orchard?"

"I'm not sure. The incident of Kogrim may have happened, and may still be in the future..." Roy answered truthfully, "but it's absolutely right to go and see. If you can find a clue from that honor and take back an old member for the school, it would be a surprise."

The White Orchard, as the place where Roy's dream began, had long wanted to go and see it.

"If you follow the map guidance to find the blueprint of the school's equipment, should you always believe me and accompany me to Novigre?"

The three great men nodded and placed the precious land on the map and kept it.

"The journey to Temolia Grey Orchard is not long, but it takes more than a month to travel between Toustente." Resault said in a deep voice, "No need to delay..."

"Wait, Boss Resso, will you go there in a few days?"

"Give me a reason."

Oaks rubbed his hands against everyone with a look of surprise.

"You are really... a group of old antiques. There are three days left to August 1, Harvest Festival. The death row prisoners have a slaughtered meal, and the witch hunters have the right to enjoy Harvest Festival!"

“Before doing something big, proper relaxation helps to concentrate!”

Roy suddenly realized,

As one of the eight most traditional festivals, Harvest Festival marks the beginning of the harvest season and midsummer, is the first harvest time of autumn and the time to prepare for autumn.

People will eat the first harvest of the year on this day and go out to the streets and dance around the bonfire to celebrate.

"Crow's mouth! What kind of slap? Can't you say something nice?" Seret slapped his brother's head and his face calmed down. "I haven't enjoyed the first meal of Harvest Festival in several years."

The witch hunter is an extremely dangerous profession and is at risk of losing his life at any time, so they know how to enjoy it in time than most ordinary people.

Even Resso, the serious guy, silently accepted Oaks' suggestions.

"The Harvest Festival is much more grand than the summer solstice. You should see it."

No one objected, their eyes were filled with flames.

"Very good! It seems we have reached a consensus. As a veteran who has participated in the Thirty-Second Harvest Festival..." Oaks suddenly looked at the clothes of his three companions with a picky look. "I will give you suggestions for dressing and dressing, listen to me, clean yourself up, and the witch hunter can also please women."

"I won't participate." Roy refused. He needed time to tame the little griffin Golfin.

"I remember you made a promise before that you would not miss all the actions of the Snake Sect. I want to go back on my word so quickly and leave the team? Tell you, there is no way!" Ox blinked at the two big men, and three eyes turned over.

"Roy, are you shy? Actually, you are not young anymore. Boys of fourteen or five years old in the countryside of Yadian have become fathers. Don't you feel so suffocated? It's time to learn to deal with your own desires."

Oaks continued to seduce, "If you feel awkward, then I won't interfere with your clothes. With your appearance, even if you wear a leather jacket covered with monster hair, blood, and smell, there are drunk women who are fascinated by you."

Roy quietly retreated to the door, why did he feel like three old wardrobes...

...

"You can't fall with them. If you have the first time, you will have the second time. Restrain... Restrain." Roy shook his head and dispelled the thoughts in his mind. Only he himself knew the devil hidden in his heart.

Sometimes, being too energetic is a side effect of the witch hunter mutation.

When there are no monsters to kill, this kind of energy that has nowhere to vent is a torment.

But some bad habits are indeed uncontaminated.

He ran to the stable and stroked the brown horse's neck, "Wilter, good boy, sorry for neglecting you during this period. Let us two bachelors spend Harvest Festival together."

After hearing what his master said, the brown horse shook his head and sniffed, walked behind another mare, grinning and revealing a big white teeth.

Then he suddenly raised his front hooves and just... he bravely lay on the mare's back hips.

"Earl...Puff...Earl...Puff..."

Heavy breaths and stimulating smells intertwined for a while.

"This is not true!" Roy's face froze. "Even a long-haired beast dares to demonstrate to me?"

"stop!"

"Earl-" Wilter, who was forcibly stationed, wailed at the unscrupulous master,

"Do you dare to laugh at your master next time?"

"Eh...er..." The huge head shook gently, and tears of grievance and repentance flowed out from the big black eyes.

"Forget it, keep going with the unpromising things!" Roy smiled and cursed, with a little reluctance on his face - to tame the little griffin, he must give up his existing mount first.

"Wilter, even if no one chats with you in the future, you must stay lively and be so happy."

"Bang!"

The blue vein suddenly slapped the brown horse in the butt.

Is the mount being removed?

yes!

In an instant, the telepathy between the witch hunter and Wilt was completely interrupted!

He closed his eyes and felt it carefully, but he could no longer listen to the brown horse's heart...

It seemed that there was something missing in my chest, and it was empty.

However, Wilt was unaware of it and still focused on "working".

For it, even if the binding is unblocked, the tacit understanding that was cultivated before is still there.

It still agrees with Roy as the master.

...

The boy walked onto the street.

On the eve of Harvest Festival, the festive atmosphere in Sintra City began to spread. Under the warm morning sunshine, most of the pedestrians were full of energy and greeted the surrounding citizens enthusiastically.

A shy boy and girl hid in the corner of the street and watched around, her eyes capturing her favorite Harvest Festival dance partner. A family was wearing hands and stepped on the street, scattering laughter and joy.

The buildings on both sides of the street raised banners with celebration greetings written on them, and they were in several languages. The soldiers led the craftsmen to measure the road, began to install wooden guardrails, and prepared for the festival parade in advance. Vendors along the way began to hawk festival-related dresses, wine, fireworks and firecrackers.

Everyone is addicted to the upcoming festive atmosphere.

But Roy went straight to the tent in the middle of the market.

"Master, I haven't come to visit Golfin for several days," Galar, wearing a brand new blue silk robe, smiled like a spring breeze, greeted him, "The little guy can't swallow what you want, and he lost several pounds!"

"Don't talk nonsense... I think it's full, sleep well, and live a comfortable life." Roy approached the iron cage. For a while, Golfin was obviously bigger, with light yellow fur and gray-white feathers, looking very healthy.

It was crawling in the cage, like a lion resting after eating, lazily licking its hook-like claws.

But it noticed a strange movement, tilted its head, and turned its eyes to the witch hunter, as if it was stimulated by some kind of stimulation, raised its head, and the body as big as a calf stood up from the cage.

Suddenly, Golfin's mood became extremely excited - red light appeared in his dark eyes, stretched his neck to drill his sharp beak out of the iron fence, and sucked the scarlet tongue at the witch hunter, making a harsh noise of "gu, gu"... The sharp claws and strong wings slapped the cage "bang", as if they were about to pull a piece of meat off him.

Roy had no doubt that if he opened the cage at this moment, he would launch an attack as soon as possible.

"I have only been away for a few days, and the attitude rebounds so violently... It is indeed a bad idea to use the shock to tame the griffin."

If it were so easy to domesticate, it would not be called the proudest animal in the world.

"Master...relieve your anger. Golfin did not deliberately lose his temper at you. It...it probably entered puberty and occasionally it would be uncontrollable..." Galar's thin face oozed cold sweat and explained in a hurry, "It has been very obedient some time ago, and every day the exhibitions are honest..."

Galar was very worried. If the other party killed the griffin in anger, the good days of his own staying at the booth to collect money will come to an end.

"I won't hurt it without explanation." Roy's dark gold's eyes looked at the griffin without any retreat. "Give me the key to the cage, you go out first."

"What are you going to do?"

“Speak to it.”

"You...you millions of subordinates show mercy!"

Galar struggled, and after a long time, he turned around three times.

"By the way, Galar, no matter what happens when you hear something, don't worry! It's just that I'm playing with it."

...

Roy sank his mind into the template and uses up the upgraded attribute points—

Will: 11.5→12.5.

At this moment, the will attribute finally exceeded twice that of Golfing, meeting the conditions for forced domestication.

"Will you resist, or surrender like Wilt?" Roy quickly touched the long beak that the griffin stuck outside the cage, and in the other party's crazy agitation,

"Pooh..." opened the bottle plug of "Swallow".

"Gulugulu", black blood vessels appeared on the young man's face and his expression became ferocious.

"Actually, I can lock you up with a chain first, and then force it to be domesticated," Roy rubbed his palms, twisting his neck, and his bones were "Kaz" sounded, "but you would definitely not be convinced if you tame you with such despicable means."

"So I'll give you a chance, listen, Golfin..." The witch hunter's five fingers flexibly stroked in the air, and the leather armor around him began to flow yellow light.
To be continued...