Blood seeped into the ground, then disappeared swiftly.
A small bat with a tuft of white fur on its chest, its wings covered with striking red blood lines, was lying in a giant pool of blood, slowly absorbing the blood energy within and storing it for the next battle.
If viewed with Spiritual Vision, one would see a Magic Array composed of Blood Magic Power taking shape into a vast network, absorbing the essence of every drop of blood shed in this cruel war into the center of the array.
Under normal circumstances, the blood should have already coagulated, yet it remained vibrant at this mont.
Kurs, clad in a black robe, suddenly revealed himself: "Miss, you haven't been appearing much these days, not even visiting Miss Chelina as you used to. Shouldn't you inform the master? He would surely be worried."
"Forget it, Kurs."
"Just like you've done before, not everything needs to be reported to the master."
The little bat transford into human form, frolicking in the blood, her milky white skin contrasting sharply with the blood, presenting an eerie, terrifying, and strangely beautiful scene.
When Kurs dealt with internal rebels in the territory earlier, he wielded the butcher's knife heavily, almost clearing out those with double hearts entirely. The terrifying mobilization capability of the Transjordan border in this war was not unrelated to this "great cleansing."
When Losa returned and heard about this, he simply responded with an indifferent "hmm," and paid it no further attention.
Kurs smiled wryly: "It's different, if you speak directly, the master would agree with you."
"The big fool didn't absorb these people's souls, Kurs. She's very smart, though she seldom speaks, she knows that the master doesn't like this kind of 'necessary act.'"
She lowered her head, raised an arm, and blood dripped from her fingertips: "I was the main force before, but now, I've been reduced to just playing a minor role in major battles, no matter how prepared I am. How can that be acceptable?"
"I'm not like Hans, who gets satisfied by doing so trivial chores every day."
Kurs fell into Silence.
Furinjira said sowhat apologetically: "Ah, Kurs, I'm not talking about you. You've done much more than Hans. He only manages a Knight Order that the master doesn't want, while you have to oversee all the armies under the master's command."
Kurs gave a gentle smile: "Miss, you've beco much more eloquent than before."
...
In the middle of the night.
An oil lamp burned on the table.
Draft papers, waiting to be dried, were spread all over the desktop.
Beside them was a tall stack of "new books," already piled up.
Prajna held a quill pen, and only after sharpening the worn tip with a carving knife did she dip it again into a funnel-shaped ink bottle, continuing to write stories on the white paper.
Even for Prajna herself, the Demon Hunter was quite a splendid tale.
Sotis, she imagined what kind of life she would have if she were in the world of the Demon Hunter.
In these imaginations, a person's company was often added.
Sounds of rustling ca from outside the door. Losa removed his coat, took off his boots in the outer tent, and stepped on the carpet to reach behind Prajna, placing his hands on her shoulders: "Have you been writing all day?"
"Mm..."
"You've just taken a bath."
Not a question, but a statent.
"Mm, I drank at night, and since you weren't by my side, I sweated a bit and took a bath before coming back."
Losa's strength had improved now, so Prajna no longer needed to guard him often, not having to worry about him being overpowered after a few encounters, not even waiting for their support.
She turned around, gazing into Losa's eyes.
A pair of eyes as calm as water made Losa feel uneasy inside.
"Forget it, you didn't bring back the scent of another woman, so I won't bla you."
Losa smirked without responding. With Prajna's intelligence, she might have long noticed the undercurrents between him and Jeanne, though she probably didn't know exactly when they got together.
She got up and blew out the lamp on the table.
Stepping on the soft cashre carpet, her movents were light and graceful. Under the white silk chemise, her jade-like feet were faintly visible, a common type of underwear worn by noblewon of this era.
"Let's sleep."
She turned back, her black eyes calm and without ripples.
"Oh, okay."
Losa lay down on the bed, grasping Prajna's hand, touching every joint of her fingers, getting closer and closer, his breath tickling Prajna's ear.
She turned around, stared at Losa, and finally spoke after a long while: "I thought you've had enough fun already."
The biggest difference between Prajna and Jeanne is that Prajna wouldn't repeatedly bring up his slip-ups in a narrow way—if it were Jeanne, she would have surely said sothing like "don't rub with the thing that just entered another woman's body," making it unbearably awkward.
"Let's sleep, I'll take you to a nice place."
"Sleep" and "go to a nice place?"
For a mont, Losa couldn't quite comprehend what Prajna really ant.
But staring into Prajna's calm eyes for long, his mood gradually cald down too. After Prajna closed her eyes, he also felt a wave of drowsiness, then closed his eyes as well.
In a daze, he heard the sound of whistling cold wind passing through a dilapidated castle.
Opening his eyes again.
A vast expanse of white.
It was a snowy mountain, with eagles soaring between the peaks, and below lay an abyss a thousand fathoms deep. He was standing on the walls of an old castle built into the mountain.
In the crevices of the walls, weeds grew wildly.
The scattered, broken stones on the ground proved that this castle hadn't been repaired in unknown years.
The mottled stone walls, weathered by wind and sun, seed to lose large patches of plaster with just a light touch.
"Where is this?"
Losa found himself a little disoriented.
"Don't move!"
A man's hoarse voice suddenly ca from behind.
Of course, Losa wouldn't obey. With his strength improved, he was now determined to protect himself rather than choosing to stall and wait for rescue when facing a strong enemy.
The Cross Sword abruptly appeared in his hand, clanging as it parried the man's longsword that ca slashing at him because of his small movent.
They quickly distanced themselves.
Although the encounter was brief, they both imdiately realized that each was a rare swordsman.
Losa widened his eyes, the man in front of him had white hair, golden, cat-like vertical pupils, and carried two sword scabbards on his back — wasn't this Geralt?
"Who are you?"
Losa said with a bitter smile, "If I tell you this is a misunderstanding, can we not fight?"
By this ti, he couldn't guess who was behind this.
So, even Prajna had such a little temper.
"What do you think?"
Geralt spun his sword in a flourishing motion. As the foremost swordsman of the North, even with Losa's specialized swordsmanship augnted by the Shining Cross Sword, he was still a cut below.
That cut was the world of difference between an expert and a master.
"This is Ker Morhan, right, the ho of the Wolf School Demon Hunters?"
"You went through so much to find this place, do you still need to ask where it is?"
Losa originally wanted to explain, but then realized this might be an excellent place to hone his martial arts skills. Although Hans was also a good sparring partner, he was far too perceptive of human relations.
In front of Hans, he never had to go all out.
As for Chelina, the gap in their strength was simply too vast.
Thus, he shut his mouth and assud a "Bullish" stance with his hands raised above his head, sword pointing at his opponent's face. This stance was highly versatile, allowing for thrusts, slashes, and retractions to counter.
The Demon Hunter opposite raised his sword, holding it with both hands above his head, in the "Top Position" stance. It appeared wide open and full of gaps but could anyti change into Bullish, with a more aggressive offensive montum.
Their steps were in motion, as if dancing around an invisible circle, but actually, each step harbored lethal intent. Once the opponent showed a flaw, a torrential rain of attacks would follow.
Finally, Losa couldn't suppress himself and struck first.
His move was extrely swift. The Bloodfall activated, with nearly two hundred points of power and one hundred fifty points of agility, causing his sword tip to be at Geralt's face in an instant.
Geralt moved with the montum, slashing his sword downward, surprisingly responding faster, directly cleaving apart Losa's stabbing longsword. He then elbowed forward, hitting Losa's chest, as they pulled apart, raising his sword upward.
Losa hastily raised his sword to block, having to retreat several steps to broaden the distance.
After just one brief exchange, Losa revealed a grave expression, "As expected of the North's foremost swordsman!"
This level of sword skill was undoubtedly honed through countless life-and-death battles, and in this aspect, Losa fell far short of him.
"Who exactly are you?"
Geralt frowned, sensing the intense danger emanating from this unexpected guest. But the opponent's swordsmanship clearly wasn't enough to pose such a threat, so he must be hiding sothing else.
"I..."
Losa didn't know how to describe his identity, so he just raised his sword again, assuming a Fool's Style with both hands holding the sword, pointing diagonally toward the ground in front: "Let's have a fight first, then we'll sit down and talk afterward."
Geralt reminded, "You will die by my sword."
Losa confidently said, "I won't. Use your Magic Seal as you like. I know far more than you think — rember Saqiya? That female dragon in human form, I'm quite similar to her."
Geralt's gaze at Losa changed, was this guy a dragon too?
To dispel Geralt's concerns, Losa slightly released his Dragon Mighty, a phantom silhouette of a giant dragon flashing quickly from his body.
A Black Dragon?
It seed, the mythological legends were wrong, in this world, not only Golden Dragons had the ability to shapeshift into humans.
"Then, be careful."
The North's foremost swordsman finally decided to display his full strength under Losa's pressure.
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