The prisoner and the sea

Chapter 189 Net

It was not the Mist Killer who launched the offensive first, but Gwen.

Since we are going to fight, it is better to hold the advantage in our hands.

The lightsaber suddenly appeared.

He skillfully chose a slashing route from the neck to the armpit, because Wusha is taller than him, and facing someone taller than him, Gwen's sword style is more like a bull's sword style Two-handed sword pose.

Wusha's finger blade connected to his lightsaber.

I don't know that the finger blade of the material can resist the most famous lightsaber among the final decisive weapons of Yuan Lishi.He caught the sword, and it was as piercing as the sound of a thousand pieces of glass being cut, tormenting the eardrums continuously.

The frightening arc of light keeps twisting.

The lightsaber dissipated, Gwen made a lunge, and her vacant palm was heavily imprinted on Wusha's chest.

The power enhanced by mana is released through technique.

A martial artist is not a scholar whose purpose is to enhance one's own strength, but how to exert one's own strength and release the true power of the human body.Most of the time, it is to study similar things. For Gwen, the current martial arts more represent a suitable channel, a channel of explosive power that Utopians do not understand.In other words, how to burst out the greatest strength in an instant, and exchange all physical energy for destructive power in an instant.

This technique became less and less effective as Gwen was changed by magic.

When I was an ordinary earthling who could be seen everywhere, even if I squeezed my physical energy to the point where I would faint in the next second, it was nothing more than stopping the rhinoceros.It's not that the output is only limited to this point, but that the physical strength can do this kind of thing at most.With the gradual improvement of physical fitness, and finally the body gradually surpassed the human "ignoring fatigue from grid", Gwen has discovered the upper limit of the explosive power provided by the skills.

Is the lethality of this upper limit enough?
In the face of ordinary creatures, enough.

What about the famous Murderer in the Mist who is one of the top three in the food chain of the "Old Villager" Strange Talk?
--boom!

The strength of the palm had been poured into Wusha's chest, and the vase didn't even shake beside them, all the power was pressed in with violent and continuous explosive force.

There are turbulent waves at the level of source power.

But is it enough?

Far from enough.

Wusha's figure suddenly paused, as if the manipulated character in a tablet fighting game was hit by a physics-based ultimate hit, and the fixed-frame fist felt like a flesh-based blow.But his expression remained the same, with a frenzied smile, "Amazing!" He shouted, and at the same time clenched his fist with his right hand and slammed it down heavily.

Since he couldn't feel the lethality, Gwen didn't want the fist to fall on his head, so he pulled his body back quickly with a silver string.

Wu Sha's body exaggeratedly hit the ground along with the punch, and there was also no obvious feeling of power leaking, and the ground didn't even lift a single floor tile.At the same time, tens of thousands of streaks of gray fog overflowed, instantly turning the entire theater into a sea of ​​fog.

He was right not to let him hit himself.

The strange story source power is like the respective business cards of the strange stories, which cannot be interpreted by human beings, but the moment when the strange story sees each other's strange story source power, it is possible to determine what the other party's ability is.The ability of fog killing is an extremely dangerous void mutation characteristic, or in other words, the ability displayed by fog killing is only the "lethal power" of this characteristic.

By tearing the world apart in an instant to form the passage particles leading to the void world, the "gray fog" formed by using this special ability that ordinary people will die as soon as they touch the edge is the power mode of the murderer in the fog. This seemingly innocent mist is in a stable mist particle state when it is not activated, but as long as it is set off, it will...

With a fatal premonition like a thorn in his back, Gwen pressed his hands down, and the silver string instantly pulled him up to the ceiling. From the corner of his vision, a frightening nothingness suddenly appeared in his position, a kind, a kind of indescribable A sense of sadness and silence suddenly emerged.

lonely.

Just looking at it makes me feel like the sad nothingness that makes my heart die.

dangerous ability.

As long as you rub it once, it's over, in the case of Yuanlishi.

Gwen felt that his source power was beginning to weaken, so he forcibly used magic power to stabilize the state of source power.

Yuanli is the power of the heart. This kind of sad ability is simply a killer ability for Yuanlishi.

Five silver blades shot from the weapon, and Gwen tugged at the strings with her toes to keep herself out of the way.

And the five silver blades turned into mist and water droplets fell into the mist.

There are such means at a distance.

There is an offensive and defensive fog at close range.

Plus the polluting ability to impress other people's mental landscapes.

It has to be mentioned that the Mist Killer is currently the closest to perfect individual.

But it doesn't mean there are no flaws.

Gwen hung upside down from the ceiling, pouring the maximum output into the silver strings, and a pool of silver 'water' was rendered from the foot ring he tapped on the ceiling, forming a lake like a reflection in the sky.

"Sorry, Natalie."

Although it is said that there will be no big disturbances, if you want to defeat Wusha and take away the relic, you must reach a certain level of restriction.

Gwen's eyes glowed with flames.

On the silver lake that was stepped upside down, a large number of rain-like silver threads drooped, and flames climbed up.

Then--

The silver threads of the fire fell like raindrops!
Fog covered all directions.

After the continuous silver threads landed, they turned into splashing high-temperature silver spots, carrying the mark of the mind flayer, splashing out in all directions.

The mist of Wusha was suppressed, and the fog continued to fall, and finally formed a lake of gray mist on the ground. The tall and thin Wusha stood in the middle, with neat clothes and a peaceful smile.

clank--

The finger blades of his left hand rubbed against each other.

"I see, you're not exactly a mind flayer, even with such a high concentration, but..."

He said loudly, "...You are actually a human being now, it's so interesting, let me tell you how you feel, how you feel as a human being, hehe."

"..."

Seeing Gwen's vigilant look, Guitan laughed again, and the gray mist slowly disappeared, being sucked into his shadow.

Only then did Gwen put away the silver lake and let it fall gently.

The theater floor is in disrepair.

The large number of potholes gave Gwen a headache.

"Now Natalie's going to complain."

He rubbed his head.

While he was muttering, Wusha watched quietly with a smile on his face, and after a few seconds, he was very confused and asked: "Who is Natalie? Why is she complaining?" ?”

"Stop fighting?" Gwen moved his hands.

But seeing the other party smiling and not answering, and knowing the way of strange talk communication from Grid's reminder, in simple terms, it is to remove the huge gap in grades, such as the gap between White and the mind flayer, otherwise it is generally One question and one answer, one answer and one question to communicate in a fair way.

therefore.

Occasionally, the ghost talk gatherings discuss some things, and the chat will last for a whole year!

Sometimes the small talk goes on for a week or two.

Gwen is not Grid, and he didn't want to stay in this kind of bird place for so long, so he sighed: "Let's talk later, let me finish the business."

Gwen took off the painting of gray mist in front of the other party. Although Wusha didn't seem very happy, Gwen didn't care about him. Since there was no clear intention to stop him, then what should be done still had to be done right?
There must be a spirit of contract.

After removing the oil painting of the Murderer in the Mist, the lingering atmosphere in the Foreign Land Theater has dissipated a lot. Although there are still some remnants, it still looks good after slowly dissipating.

After finishing all this, Gwen simply drilled a hole in the glass of the ceiling, and slipped into the cooling machine room on the lower floor of the Old Countryman along the icy cold pipes of the Alien Theater that usually deal with clouds and fog.

"Huh, it's really cold."

Gwen rubbed her arms, the source of warmth was a bit ineffective at this temperature.

At this time, Mao Kaka came out of the shadow, and with a meowing sound, he pulled out a few cat lanterns that were eating ice cream from the passage next to him, and used 'Give the cat one! 'Skills, got three. "Meow!"

Looking at the ice cream box that was handed over with the tail curled up, Gwen smiled, nodded and thanked.

Although I was muttering in my heart, "Eat ice cream in winter?", but Mao Deng knew how to share this, which is simply too magical.

Wusha who came later also got an ice cream.

Here, Gwen was finally able to answer the other party's words.

"Natalie is from Shad. Although you don't know her, you can understand her as my boss. I need to trouble her with some things recently, so she arranged for me to come and recycle this thing... The agreement I reached with her is Don't make too much noise, but thanks to you, the entire Foreign Land Theater is still completely destroyed, and the reconstruction should make the eyes of the person in charge go dark."

"Well, mind flayer, strictly speaking, it's you, not me, who caused the damage. I didn't use that fire rain."

The thin and tall Wusha understood quite well, and he didn't take the blame at all.

"In addition, the thing you mentioned is not something I want to put in this tasteless theater. If it weren't for some people who secretly brought it in and performed a ritual in front of it, I wouldn't want to come here. What about this place?"

amount……

"Utopians are so arrogant and self-confident. This painting is like home to me, you know? I was ready to rest, but they are rude to bring this painting to this theater. You know? I was laughed out loud by the other murderers in the mist..." He spread his hands, and there was a sense of helplessness on his handsome face, "...I was dragged out to work overtime by the Utopian people on the rest day, March, ah, Not even a witch can do such a thing."

Wusha was quite lively, sitting on the ground familiarly while eating ice cream, and started bragging wildly.

There are usually "rule restrictions" in ghost talks. Even if there are twenty ghost talks in one area, they are likely to be scattered in different minutes and time slots in 24 hours a day, and there are not many opportunities to actually meet each other.It is true that such ghost stories with strong communication emotions will be born, and there will also be "ghost stories" of the same kind of ghost stories. Simply put, they can be regarded as the person in charge of the local ghost stories.

Take Gwen's mind flayer, for example.

Although the mind flayer is undisputedly himself, there are branches of mind flayers in different regions, or in more fashionable terms: subspecies ghost talk.

There aren't many subspecies of the Mist Massacre.

At least among the ghost stories of their level, they are relatively rare.

"Bringed out, and performed a ritual?"

Gwen suddenly grasped the key point, "Ritual? What ceremony?"

"The ritual of summoning the wraith is quite delicate. It was arranged to forcefully wake me up to clean up and lock the target. But in essence, it's just a reminder, and it's not considered forcing me to work... Mind flayer, you don't have anything similar. set?"

--"No."

Grid's brief answer in his mind had already fully demonstrated his sense of superiority.

Fortunately, the person in charge of external communication is not Grid.

Gwen asked: "Do you remember when the ceremony was done? This information is very useful to me."

"I help you, and you help me too."

"what do you need?"

Mist Kill said, "A place with enough books, I need this kind of place to accumulate 'people with lofty ideals', people with lofty ideals will spread the fear of the indescribable power of Mist Killer, the more we spread, we destroy The more wisdom I have, the stronger I am."

Wusha is taking the high-end route.

The believers to be cultivated must be intelligent, at least those who have read books and understand the beauty of books.Targets picked by the Mist Killer have a slight chance of making the Mist Killer work for them, but in return, they need to give it back a sufficient amount of knowledge and a sufficient quality of wisdom.

"I can't see that you are still this type of weird talk..."

"Didn't the mind flayers tell you about us?" The fog killer who called himself 'Wilter' showed a curious baby's eyes, "Although we can't be called some kind of social creatures, we do have a part of the group Peers of traits. Does no one of your subspecies know us better?"

Wilt, who obviously looks like a handsome version of the tall and thin ghost, has more problems than imagined.

"Wilter, I can help you, but first you call me Gwen and tell me the information."

Gwen thought, even if it's a strange talk, you need to talk, and you need to know each other's names to facilitate the next step, right?

"Gwen." Wilt repeated the name and nodded, "The time of the ceremony took place in the long night..."

So early?
Gwen frowned.

"It was an afternoon. Although there was no moon or sun for me to recognize, it is a matter of course that we, as ghosts, have the ability to distinguish time. A red-haired girl full of blood smelled in, and she completed the ceremony alone. Quite a good source of power, which bound my strange talk subspecies here, and it was not triggered until recently."

"...Wait, didn't your painting come here recently?"

"Huh?" Although Wilt looked ignorant, he was still very confident, or believed in his own senses, "Although I don't pay attention to the outside world all the time, I can see that I am in that theater and have already It's been going on for some time. I'm pretty sure I got on this train, the Old Countryman, before the long night."

(End of this chapter)