The Ring: Sell Dung Beetles in Junction

Chapter 464 Alas, Red Lion

Now that Messermo had returned safely, everyone felt relieved and drank in peace.

Inside the vault, everyone was having fun until late at night before gradually quieting down and falling asleep.

But some people did not rest or have fun.

For example, Ampah was always concentrating on organizing the precious books in the collection; for example, Greg was always staying in the basement, listening to the sound of disco music upstairs, and occasionally feeling the dust from the ceiling falling on his face.

In this hidden little clinic and hideout, the witch lives with the pots that have been transformed into living pots.

In order to cure them, Messermo tried various methods, but to no avail. In the end, he could only ask Father Golden Tree to cover their eyes with a blessing mask to give them a trace of false peace and warmth.

Now, the priest here has left, and only Colin, who is responsible for helping the priest, is still here, reciting the doctrine of the golden tree to the witches, hoping to appease these poor witches.

The Fire Knights who were guarding Greg had all fallen asleep, but Greg himself was still standing in the middle of the bloody flesh, looking at the shocking flesh and blood, at a loss what to do.

He has indeed been deeply involved in limb transplantation for many years, but all he does is limb transplantation work. He has no idea how to put the transplanted person back into shape.

The little pot was circling around him, making him even more dizzy.

When Greg heard the sound of the elevator descending, he thought Messermo had come down to supervise the work. He was so scared that he quickly made up an excuse, saying that more time was needed.

But the ones who came down were Wuming and Patch, and they were talking about something.

Patch said, "Look what you did, why did you give him alcohol?"

"I thought I could get him drunk." Wuming said.

“As a result, I felt sleepy and couldn’t control myself, and something bad happened,” Patch said.

"That means he doesn't sleep at all. No wonder he has such dark circles under his eyes." Wuming said.

As they spoke, the two walked over to Greg's side.

Greg drove away the little pot beside him and asked the two:
"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing much. I added some extract of Tolina water lily to the drink I gave to Messermo, hoping to get him drunk. I didn't expect him to be like this once he felt sleepy." Wuming shrugged.

"You did that." Greg was surprised.

Greg also saw the battle. Before that, Messe Morelana and Wuming ran past one after another. He was leaning against the doorway, and although he couldn't see clearly, he still saw some of it.

Greg wondered, "Why did you get him drunk?"

"You were thinking of escaping first then." Wuming said. He glanced at Greg and said, "After all, you don't have the confidence that you can cure the witch."

"How did you know?" Greg stammered.

"You saved many people by using limb grafting, but you didn't save those nobles who had their limbs grafted," Wuming said. "You can only graft, not cut."

Greg was a little discouraged:
"The difficulty lies in the fact that limb reattachment is not just about the physical part. Physical changes will gradually affect the soul. If they are used to living with many hands and feet, they will still feel very painful if their limbs are cut off. And the soul merges with the body, making it extremely difficult to separate them."

Greg concluded: "It requires delicate and meticulous operation, as well as strong enough technology and wisdom to support it. Otherwise, even if a human figure is carved out, the witch will go crazy - her soul will be lost and she will lose her mind. Their willpower will not be enough to support the treatment until the end."

Wuming asked: "Is there no hope of recovery?"

Greg thought: "It would be difficult for me alone. If I add the birth secrets of the Full Moon Queen and the source pyroxene technology from Serlian, there might be hope."

"Just maybe?" Wuming said.

Greg lowered his head: "Because I always feel that something is missing. We lack spiritual protection for the witches."

Wuming asked, "Can we let Michaela protect their spirit?"

"Perhaps," Greg said, "but none of these powerful men are here."

Greg said, "During this time, I can collect information about the wizards. This way, we can delay the time a little longer and you can stay here safely. But I can't guarantee how long it will last."

Greg looked at the wizards:
"But I need tools."

"Don't you have a knife that's sharp enough?" Wuming said, "I'll go find one for you."

"The knife has it," Greg said. "I mean the anesthetic. The witches' bodies with grafted limbs can feel it. Removing limbs is like cutting off their hands and feet alive. I know the pain. Too much pain will mess up their consciousness and maybe even kill them directly."

Greg asked Wuming: "Do you still have the Jero Eyeball?"

"I didn't bring it." Wuming said.

Greg thought for a moment with a gloomy face, then his eyes lit up:
"Oh, water lily extract should work, too. At least if we cut off the witches' limbs while they are sleeping, it should alleviate the pain."

"What a coincidence." Wuming scratched his head, "The only extract I had before was given to Messermo to drink."

There was a hint of despair in Greg's dark eyes, and he looked at Patch helplessly.

Patch handed over a piece of spider silk.

"How do I use this?" Greg picked up the spider silk with his cane and looked at the slime on it. "Does it have a paralyzing effect?"

"No." Patch smiled sinisterly, "You can use primitive methods to amputate."

"What do you mean by folk method?" Greg hesitated. In his mind, folk method meant just chopping with a knife, but he had already rejected that.

"Use silk ropes to tie up their extra limbs and tighten them," Patch said. "Gradually, the limb will become necrotic, and it won't hurt much to cut it off later."

"It can be done this way." Wuming studied on the side.

Greg shook his head: "This method doesn't work on witches. Their vitality is too strong."

"Then I can't do anything. I can only provide a fast enough knife." Patch said, "Just cut it off. Maybe it won't hurt."

"It hurts!" Greg retorted.

Patch said, "Then go ask Messermo. The landlord may have the medicine you need. Or ask him where you can collect medicines like Yerro's eyeballs."

Greg sighed, "We can only think of a solution from the things in the Shadow Land."

"A specialty of the Shadow Land..." Wuming was reminded of his past. After thinking for a while, his eyes lit up. "Got it. Scorpion soup."

"What is that?" Greg asked in confusion.

Wuming said: "It's a specialty of the Horned People. The key point is that they use scorpions to make soup, and the liver of the spider scorpion they use has a paralyzing effect."

Wuming felt around his chest and took out a small piece of scorpion liver: "This is a little sample that Barrett left in Tower Town. You can try it."

Greg hooked up the scorpion's liver with his prosthetic hand, brought it close to his eyes, and licked it tentatively.

Then he froze.

After a long while, Greg finally moved, spitting so much that his tongue became swollen.

"It seems to be working well." Wuming said, "Can it be used?"

"It works," Greg said. "Any more?"

"Barrett has plenty of them." Wuming said, "Just go get them whenever you want."

Greg immediately experimented, using scorpion liver to anesthetize a wizard, cut off one of his hands, then stopped the bleeding, bandaged it, and carefully maintained the wound, allowing new skin to grow back.

Wuming looked at him for a while, but did not disturb him:

"Come on, everyone's safety depends on you."

Carrying such a heavy burden, a drop of sweat dripped from the busy Greg's forehead and almost fell on the wizard's wound.

Greg leaned back quickly, but he couldn't control his balance on his prosthetic foot, so he fell backward and sat heavily on the ground.

Greg doesn't have a strong body, and if he sits like this, he might break a piece of his spine if he's unlucky.

However, Greg felt that the touch under his butt was quite soft, and there was no impact as he had imagined.

Greg reached down and felt blood on his hands.

Looking down, he saw a pool of blood and flesh on the floor, which cushioned his reaction.

In the distance, a wizard raised his hands, and when he saw that Greg was fine, he put his hands down again, and the pool of blood slowly dissipated.

Xiao Hu came over again, helped Greg up, and asked Greg curiously:

"Can you really treat my sisters?"

"I'll do my best..." Greg answered subconsciously. He looked at Xiao Hu, "Actually, you are also them."

The little pots shook their heads blankly: "We can't remember, but the sisters are very kind and we like them."

Xiaohu looked at Greg:
"But grandpa, if you can heal my sisters, why don't you have any hands or feet?"

Greg's mouth twitched, and he was speechless.

The same scene happened in his kitchen when he was caught up in the war and madly pursued strength. However, the scene he saw at that time was completely different.

Greg looked at the contents of the pot and thought that it could be his grandmother's pot, so he decided to trick the kind pot:
"Because grandpa can only cut, not connect."

========
Everyone was free for the time being, although they could only move around in the vault. But the atmosphere here was quite relaxed, and everyone could help out and do some work that the evil soldiers could do.

Lance Shanks was holding a mop, cleaning the floor of the vault, picking up the specimen fragments that had fallen down during last night's madness, handing them over to the Horned Scholar, and getting scolded again.

"Busy? Great." Wuming walked over with his hands behind his back and nodded slightly, acting like a boss.

Lance Shanks was very upset:

"Why is he the only one who doesn't have to do anything?"

"Why don't I have to do anything? What I have to do is the most important thing." Wuming glared at Lance Shanks, "It's a matter of life and death for our team!"

"It's so amazing, how come I didn't know about it." Lance Shanks said, "What are you going to do?"

"Accompany the prince to study - and get on good terms with Messermo." Wuming said, "If Greg fails, Messermo will still give me face and not kill you."

"Pretty boy." Lance Shanks curled his lips.

Wuming didn't care. He put his hands behind his back, walked in a square step, and leisurely inspected the storage vault as if it was his home.

Wuming saw that several Horned scholars were facing the same direction, looking up at the towering, almost invisible beams of the vault, with their hands clasped together, twisted into a spiral, and their eyes closed, praying for something.

Wuming looked in the direction they were looking, but saw nothing. His vision was blocked by the specimens and beams along the way, and he didn't see anything unusual.

"What are they doing?" Wuming asked curiously. "They are giving thanks and worshipping." Messermo came over. This time, he didn't let his hair down. He wore a winged snake helmet and was fully armed, looking even more heroic.

"Thank you for the worship?" Wuming became even more curious.

Messermo passed Wuming and said, "Follow me."

Messermo walked all the way down, walked to a certain angle, and looked up: "I can see it from here."

Wuming looked in that direction and found a corpse sitting on top of the beam.

But it’s too high here and it’s still a little hard to see clearly.

Messermo took Wuming all the way up, took the elevator, and stood on the beam.

This time I finally saw the appearance of the corpse clearly.

Judging from his attire, he's a Fire Knight.

"That's Sid," Messermo said. "When we started the holy war, Shadow City was supposed to be just a castle. It was she and a few others who advocated the need to preserve and collect species, which eventually led to the creation of this vault."

"She knows how to save money." Wuming nodded in appreciation.

"Those were really difficult times," Messermo said. "At first there were no Horn scholars here, and people didn't trust her and called her a hypocrite."

"Then how did she gain the trust of the Horned Man?" Wuming became interested.

"Persistent." Messermo said, "Sid is very strong, but only for self-protection. She repeatedly goes to various fields and villages to collect species and the knowledge of Horned Scholars."

"Is it just persistence?" Wuming was a little skeptical.

Time seems to have stopped in this land, and the Horned Man and the Golden Tree still maintain their fiery passion for revenge and killing.

Most importantly, Sid is now a skeleton.

"It shouldn't be that easy for a noble from Rodel to die," Wuming said.

"Yes, in addition to persistence, there is also martyrdom." Messermo stared at Sid's corpse, "She exchanged her life for the trust of the Horned Scholars."

"An amazing achievement." Wuming said.

He drew his sword and paid respect to the corpse.

Messermo looked at Wuming's actions and smiled. He looked at the Horned Scholar in the vault:
"Her sacrifice was not in vain. This place can be said to be the most peaceful place in Shadowland. There is no more killing, only the study of knowledge."

"It seems that you are not just going to kill the Lightless Ones." Wuming said.

"After all, I myself..." Messermo didn't say anything else and gave Wuming a look, knowing that he would understand.

This topic reminded Messermo of something, and he asked Wuming: "Do you still have the wine from yesterday?"

"Ah... there's one more thing, but maybe the date isn't right, maybe it's not that strong." Wuming's eyes wandered, "Don't humiliate yourself with your alcohol tolerance, or I'll have to fight with you again."

"I'm not drinking." Messermo said, "I'm going to see someone."

"Who?"

"A friend," Messermo replied. "If you are willing to come, I can introduce you to him."

Without name or anything to do, just go along naturally.

Messemo did not go down from the beam, but continued walking along the beam, jumped onto a platform, and walked out of the Shadow City.

There is a plank road and a platform on the wall outside the city. Take the elevator all the way down to a small room.

There is a church on the right side of the room, and a huge headless statue of Marika stands there. In front of the room, you can see an open area, which seems to be out of the city. This is probably the back door of Shadow City.

Messermo walked to the statue and prayed for a moment, then turned around and took Wuming out the back door.

The ground outside was overgrown with weeds, and many soldiers' armor and weapons were scattered all over the ground, with military flags with the Messermo logo everywhere. It seemed that this place had experienced many wars, but now it has been covered by weeds and obscured by time.

On the open plain, there is a majestic shadow tree. The huge tree that reaches up to the sky occupies half of the sky, and the shadows twisted and entangled on the tree are clearly visible.

Drops of dew seemed to flow down from the shadow tree and landed not far ahead.

When Wuming was looking in that direction, he saw a figure rushing towards him from the front.

Looking closely, I found that it was a knight, heavily armed, riding a huge wild boar, charging towards this side, holding a spear, looking aggressive and murderous.

As the knights approached, the ground trembled from the boar's charge.

Wuming subconsciously raised his shield.

Messermo rushed forward, with flames like snakes in his hands. He leaped into the air and imprinted a fireball on the wild boar's head.

The two men were in a stalemate for a moment, and then the fireball exploded, the momentum of the wild boar's charge was slowed down, and Messemo flew backwards and stood still with a backflip.

The knight on the boar laughed heartily:
"Your fire has grown stronger again, have you shed your skin again?"

"I shed another layer yesterday." Messermo smiled.

The Hog Rider saw Wuming standing not far away:
"Who is this?"

"A cursed man," said Messermo, "but he doesn't care."

The Boar Knight then understood and nodded.

Then he charged towards Wuming, and when he was about to hit him, he braked suddenly and stopped sideways in front of Wuming.

The boar rider raised his spear and saluted Wuming with his spear: "Gaius."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Wuming." The Wuming opponent stretched out his hand, but because the wild boar was tall, it was difficult to touch the wild boar rider Gaius.

The boar rider switched the weapon in his other hand, freed up one hand, bent down on the horse and shook hands with Wuming.

When you get closer, you can see that the armor the Boar Knight is wearing is quite thick. The armor has a strange pattern, and it spreads out layer by layer. The helmet is similar, made of rough iron sheets. The visor is relatively round, and it sticks up on the top of the head like a seed.

While Wuming was observing the Boar Knight, Gaius was also observing Wuming.

Gaius said, "You don't seem to think I'm rude because I didn't dismount. You're really not particular about small matters."

"Is it rude not to dismount?" Wuming said, "I'm sorry, I've never ridden a horse since I was a child, so I have no idea about the relevant etiquette."

Gaius smiled: "That's good, not all rules and etiquette are appropriate."

"Are you the friend of Messermo?" Wuming looked at Gaius and was a little surprised when he saw the symbol on the red cloth under the wild boar's armor. "Red Lion?"

Wuming clearly saw the symbol of the red lion on the wild boar, the emblem of the lion holding a knife.

"It's just an old story." Gaius laughed. "Now I'm just an old soldier who is lingering here, waiting for death to come."

"Waiting to die? I see you don't have any injuries." Wuming looked at Gaius and found that he was buried very deep in the depression of the wild boar armor. "Hey, your leg is gone? But this is not a fatal injury."

"It's not an injury, it's just that my life span is coming to an end." Gaius said, "After all, I am not a person of the golden tree, but a child of platinum."

"So he is the son of Platinum." Wuming suddenly realized.

Gaius observed Wuming's expression:
"You didn't react much when you saw the Son of Platinum. What curse do you carry?"

"Immortality." Wuming said.

Gaius looked at Messermo who was approaching:

"Did you find this guy from the Golden Clan to sincerely piss me off?"

Messermo smiled and threw a bottle to Gaius.

Gaius took it and saw a bottle:
"what is this?"

"This guy brewed this wine," said Messermo. "It tastes good. Please try it."

"So you're a brewer?" Gaius downed half the bottle in one gulp and felt his body burning, as if he had drunk Dettol.

"A warrior," replied Messermo.

"Oh?" Gaius was feeling hot all over, and looked at Wuming's thin body and sword and shield, "Let's try."

Without waiting for Wuming to speak, Gaius slapped the wild boar's butt and ran away, then turned around and rushed towards Wuming.

"Red Lion." Messermo shook his head.

"Alas, Red Lion." Wuming also shook his head.

"Can you hold it off?" Messermos said, "I can't withstand Gaius' charge anyway."

"Actually, I'm pretty confident I can handle the Tin Pig."

In response to Messemo's questioning, Wuming simply mentioned the shield which was of moderate size and not very thick.

Flames covered the shield, which quickly curled and turned black, becoming smaller overall but thicker.

Wuming took out a piece of pyroxene and wiped it on the shield. A dazzling magical light attached to the shield.

After doing all this, the wild boar's tusks were already close to his eyes, pushing Wuming and his shield directly against the wall.

Ding ding ding ding ding.

The moment the thick fangs touched the shield, Wuming stepped back, but was hit by the wild boar again, unable to get rid of it or escape.

In an instant, the wild boar seemed to have hit Wuming more than a dozen times.

The huge wild boar exerted its brute force, pressing Wuming against the wall and rubbing him. Each blow was powerful and left a dull sound.

When the wild boar finally got tired and slowly retreated, Wuming lowered himself from the wall, brushed off the dust on his body with his shield, and said to Gaius:

"Have you finished the test?"

Gaius was surprised: "Tree Guard?"

Gaius could see clearly from the wild boar that all of the boar's attacks were blocked by Wuming, without any omissions, and Wuming was actually not injured at all.

This reminded him of the fighting methods of the guards of the great tree of Rodel in the royal city, who used their huge shields to drive their opponents into despair.

Wuming chuckled: "The shield guarded by the tree is not as powerful as mine."

(End of this chapter)