The forest is thick with moisture and as cold as the abyss.

And we left him there, Geralt thought. He was riding on the carrot that had just been quiet for a while, and would look back at the mud pit from time to time. The mage let him sink and lie in the middle of the mud.

An eight-year-old child.

The Witcher's heart tightened unconsciously - many times, he felt that he was heartless. People cursed him as an emotionless mutant monster, and he even used this rhetoric as a means of bargaining in transactions.

.

If you don't pay me, I will kill your whole family.

He said this to many bastards who broke their promises and refused to give him money, and even planned to drive him away with weapons, but he never did it once. On the contrary, there were many times when Geralt helped some people without taking any money.

.

"Don't think too much, Geralt."

He heard He Shenyan say something lightly, but nothing else could be heard in his tone. The demon hunter turned around and found that He Shenyan was reading a book on horseback.

Logically speaking, this is impossible. First, it's too dark in the forest, and second, it's too rocking on the horse. But the mage is not an ordinary person at all, and he can always do something beyond common sense.

"What are you looking at?" asked the witcher.

"A miscellaneous book, well, it's pretty well written." He Shenyan replied thoughtfully. "To be precise, it's a book of fairy tales, Geralt. But it contains a lot of adult content. This

The author of this book may have forgotten that fairy tales are for children."

He closed the book smoothly and then let go. The book turned into dots of blue light and dissipated in the air. He Shenyan asked: "Where are we now?"

"We are in Kaedwen territory now, if my memory doesn't deceive me."

Geralt reached out and took out a small bottle of unfinished liquor from his saddle bag and took a sip. He usually would not drink in the wild, which would be tantamount to suicide. But his cotton coat could not withstand the severe cold from the forest.

It was March, and the weather in Kaedwen was not livable. Although the witcher could live in low temperatures for a long time without getting sick, he still wanted to feel better.

He took a sip of wine and complained: "Can't you cast a spell on me or something? Make it warm here?"

"Actually, Geralt, my magic reserves are very small right now."

"What?"

"I forgot to tell you something. I had a fight with a real god. Then I lost. She took away all my magic and strength. I have only been resurrected not long ago, and my strength has only just recovered to 100%.

Twenty-five. And I have to spend 20% of it for physical strengthening."

The mage shrugged: "As far as the current situation is concerned, you can temporarily regard me as a third-rate mage."

Geralt grinned: "She?"

"...Can your focus be more normal?"

"Otherwise, what should I focus on? Your resurrection or your fight with a god?"

The witcher made a humorous remark: "I'm just a little witcher. The only things I care about are women and money."

"Perhaps we should also add water ghosts."

"..."

This time it was Geralt's turn to be silent.

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"I hope you get the plague and poop all over your crotch!"

"What?!"

The man who was scolded became furious, but did not hit his wife. Instead, he retorted: "Then I hope you get smallpox! You idiot who can't even wash clothes!"

His wife is not as gentleman as he is.

The lady reached out, grabbed a cast iron pot that was on the table, and hit her husband on the head. If the blow was real, it would probably kill someone. The husband obviously knew this, and he

He immediately took a step back to avoid this fatal attack.

The wife didn't really want to fight. She threw down the cast iron pot angrily and made a vulgar gesture: "Then you can cook for yourself, you stupid pig!"

After saying that, she closed the door angrily and entered the house.

The man turned around impatiently and saw two men on horseback. One was a maoyan with a sword on his back, and the other was a handsome oriental man. These two mysterious guys did not let the man control his temper, and he vomited viciously on the ground.

He was slobbering and yelling vulgarly: "What are you looking at? Your buttholes have grown into faces?"

Geralt watched him go away, then looked back at the calm mage: "Aren't you going to do something to him?"

"do what?"

"Cast a spell to turn him into a pig or something."

He Shenyan rolled his eyes: "Don't put what you want to do on my head, Geralt."

The demon hunter was not upset after being discovered. He urged Carrot to go near the only tavern in the village, got off his horse, and tied Carrot to the fence. From the outside, this tavern has a rather rural style - I mean

Yes, it is very sentimental.

One window was even broken.

Geralt stood on the frozen mud, looked at the window, turned around and asked: "Do you want to go in and eat something? Or just wait for me on the horse? In that case I will buy some dry food and we will continue on our way.

, go to the nearby military camp and ask what's going on with that thing."

The mage also turned over and dismounted, his boots really stepped on the dirty mud, and the pungent smell that hit his face made He Shenyan's face twitch.

"... Go in and have something to eat, although I doubt they will bring out some pig food."

"Although it is true that most Kaedwen people are very vulgar, you are a bit underestimating their food culture."

"I'll wait and see."

The witcher and the mage walked into the tavern. This strange pair made many people look curiously. Most people were observing the mage. They might think Geralt was a follower or something. What happened next for the two of them?

Actions deepen this misunderstanding.

The handsome oriental man walked towards an empty table, while the sword-carrying Maoyan went to the front desk to place his order.

He Shenyan sat down. The bench felt terrible. It was not very balanced and could shake when sitting on it. He lowered his head and observed the lines on the table. It took him a while to realize that they were not lines.

It's a 'memento' formed by the accumulation of stains after not wiping the table for too long.

As a result, the shape of the pattern made his weird sense of humor come into play again. The mage smiled, which happened to be seen by the witcher walking back. Geralt asked: "What are you laughing at?"

"Look at this table, Geralt." He Shenyan stretched out his hand and pointed at the pattern. "What does this thing look like to you?"

Geralt sat opposite him, craned his neck and looked at the old man for a while, and his eyes suddenly widened. If he hadn't wanted to maintain an emotionless look in front of outsiders, he might have laughed out loud by now.

"The guy responsible for cleaning the table should really be charged." Geralt lowered his voice, but inevitably laughed twice. "Who on earth would think of leaving a little stain to form this shape?"

After a while, their food came. Geralt ordered two portions of bread and two bowls of broth. It was very simple, but it was large in quantity. The person who served the food was a middle-aged man, as thin as a stick, but very tall.

He was energetic. He had a mustache and messy hair, as if he had a broken pot lid on his head.

"This is your meal, gentlemen."

The thin man nodded to the mage with a smile on his face, and the latter nodded flatly in return. He carefully placed the dishes on the table, and was about to leave, but Geralt stretched out his hand to stop him.

"Excuse me, I have a question."

"Ah?" The thin man looked at him blankly, followed the witcher's hand to the table, and a smile inevitably appeared on his face. "What do you mean? This was painted by one of my guys, a bastard.

..."

He laughed endlessly, while Geralt waited patiently. After the thin man finished laughing, the witcher continued to speak: "I have another question, sir."

"Are there any local commissions?"

----------------------------------------

"Ghouls, evil spirits... It seems that Kaedwen has not been very peaceful recently."

"oh?"

"Aren't you reading history?"

Geralt opened the door and walked out of the pungent-smelling but lively tavern. The two returned to the place where the horses were tied. As always, his saddle bag looked like it had been turned over. The witcher glanced and saw

Across the road there were two children looking at him uneasily.

Yes, that's it, fear will teach you what to do and what not to do, kids. Didn't your mother tell you not to mess with 'mutant' stuff? You'll be damned!

He gestured to the two children with malice, and they ran away screaming, thinking that Geralt was casting a spell on them. The witcher smiled and turned around to see He Shenyan's expressionless face.

.

"You seem to be really bored..." The mage shrugged and got on his horse. "I am reading history, yes, but the current king of Kaedwen is not dead yet, and he is not in the history books. Just now he was

I heard a few people discussing the Scoia'tael in the tavern, what are they?"

"Some persecuted elves."

They slowly left the village, leaving a trail of dust behind them: "The current king of Kaedwen, Henselt, is a bastard. He carried out hatred and massacres in the country. The inhuman races were expelled or killed by him. In general, he ended up with nothing."

It doesn't matter if it's death."

Leaving the main road and coming to the small road, the witcher's narrative was as emotionless and rational as ever, but He Shenyan could hear his true views on the matter.
To be continued...