When the first ray of dawn of the new day shone on the walls of the Molten Iron City, every soldier who was able to make a sound was cheering. Although the wave of rats had receded for a while, it was not until this moment that they really affirmed that the damn defensive battle was over, and the military and civilians of the Molten Iron City won their right to continue to survive. However, not all of them relaxed their nerves. On the tower of the wall, Lord Liehn and the people around him were waiting for the return of a killer.

"You look quite energetic? Doesn't it matter if you haven't sleep all night?" He picked up a bowl of steaming soup from the wooden table in front of him. The Liechkun glanced at the wizard who was leaning against the window and watching Chaoyang angry. In Andre's understanding, the caster was never a guy who was good at lasting war. This is well-founded. In order to recruit talents needed for the barrier plan, the old dwarves have seen many existences that can be called wizards. However, these high-ranking and pretentious guys seem to be strong in the dwarves. Perhaps in their energetic state, the casters can fight ten or even more, but once they overcast, they will soon become drowsy and even faint.

The curse crow turned around and of course he understood what the dwarf was referring to. The magician leaned his staff against the wall and walked to the table to pick up a bowl. Although he was not mentally tired, physical hunger could only be supplemented by eating. "I will never have the situation you mentioned. The caster can't act like a warrior, at least leave enough energy to escape. If a guy hits him until he faints, he is either too stupid or too inexperienced, and not enough to be called a mature caster."

"Where is your fellow disciple Mr. Cheese? Can he be considered a mature spellcaster?" Lyon, who was sitting on the other side of the table, asked swallowing the black bread in his mouth. As for how he knew the relationship between cheese and the curse crow, there are not so many wizards in this world who like to wear gray robes, aren't it?

"He?" The magician heard Cheese's name and smiled disdainfully. "It seems that you have had an intersection with him, and that boy gave you a good impression?" The Blood Lion nodded. The experiences of Salon and Zhuliu Town made him believe that Cheese is a gray robe with strong strength and outstanding vision. When the Curse Crow saw the other party's reaction, the smile on the corner of his mouth became even more unscrupulous, as if he had seen something very funny. When Lyon frowned because of the wizard's laughter, he was frowning because of the wizard's laughter.

The magician finally realized his incompetence, "Sorry, I'm too much. Haha, but this is all you teased me. Cheese, about him, although he is already strong enough in terms of theoretical knowledge and combat ability, but..." The curse crow spread his hands, "It's just a chick who doesn't even get his own emblem. As a gray robe, he's very tender. If you want to compare me, just like you and this long-eared friend beside you, you should understand it."

Lyon's brow continued to frown, and his eyes looked at the Curse Crow suspiciously. Out of instinct, the knight did not want to admit that the evaluation of Cheese was correct. After all, compared with the gray robe that appeared in the Molten Iron City, Cheese was more appreciative of both behavior and conversation, but perhaps it was intuition. The voice in the heart of the Knight's leader told him that Curse Crow was not wrong.

"It's mysterious." Buckum rolled his eyes at the wizard while drinking the vegetable soup. Although he had never seen another gray robe in the mouths of the two, the elves didn't like this gloomy guy when they first saw the curse crow. Buckum always felt that the bloodthirsty expression on the faces of those rats was even more comfortable than the sneer of the magician. His lack of understanding of the gray robe made his muttering fall into the wizard's ears. In this regard, the curse crow just snapped his fingers slightly and didn't say much. The elves had to pour out the vegetable soup that had become cold for some reason in his bowl.

The wooden door of the room was opened. Maybe it was always open, because even though none of the people in the room noticed that someone had opened the door, no one realized that there was another shadow in the room. When they noticed this, a heavy object had hit the floor beside the dining table. "Oh!" Oh? There is nothing in this world that makes such a sound when it collides with the floor. Everyone was staring at the stuff on the floor that was constantly squirming, wrapped in black cloth bags, and the demons standing in the room at some point.

"Swish!" Buckum subconsciously pulled out his weapon the moment he saw Carus. The unconcealed murderous aura on the latter was suffocating. Lyon stretched out his hand and pressed his entourage, shook his head at him, "This is a friend of the Duke, and you can't beat him." The Knight said. The murderous aura on the demonic man quickly disappeared, and he cracked his mouth and exposed two rows of sharp fangs. "Your knight is right, little guy. I want to kill you, you can't even touch the hilt of the knife." Buckum angrily put away his knife and sat down. If it were a few days ago, this elf would probably fight with the person who provoked him on the spot without knowing the height of the world, but now, he has learned the necessity of caution from Lyon.

"So, what did you bring back?" Unmoved by the scene just now, the Riot Hammer, who was sitting steadily behind the table, lowered the wooden bowl and pointed at the demon's spoils with his chin. At this time, the curse crow had opened a corner of the cloth bag, revealing some green length. "A witch?" The wizard frowned. He looked up at Carus, with a bit of blame in his eyes. It was not necessarily a good thing to catch a witch back. Who knows whether she was arrested on purpose.

"Don't worry, this little lamb has been separated from his companion, and the best shepherd dog can't find her again." The devil smiled. His bloodline from the devil gave the killer some special advantages when dealing with the caster, especially when the other party was unprepared.

The curse crow curled his lips. He simply confirmed that the prisoner had no tracking or other magic, and then pulled the other party's head and pulled her out of the bag. At this time, everyone realized that the witch's height was not as tall as Andre, a dwarf. She looked like she was not even twelve years old, not to mention adulthood. "It's really a lamb. But she is really a witch." The Grand Duke Liehn raised his eyebrows, and his headband gave the dwarf the ability to cast the spells separately.
Chapter completed!