The elf looked at Kaslan's eyes calmly, feeling the vague presence in the void just like he had done countless times before.

According to experience, she will first read some fragments and pictures mixed with countless impurities, just like the water of a river flowing out of the river, covered with mud and sand, making it turbid.

After a few tenths of a second, these irregular fragments will converge with a strong rhythm - depending on the mental state of the person being read - around a clue with obvious intention and clear logic, and be captured by someone.

Filtered coherently into discernible consciousness.

In the endless years in the past, she has been able to read the other person's thoughts quickly and accurately: the strength of the warrior, the weakness of the coward, the calculation of the king, the sinisterness of the nobles, the greed of the merchants, and the corruption of the priests.

Of course, in rare cases, this tried-and-true method fails.

Such as now.

Ada frowned slightly as she watched Kaslan swinging his spear in front of her.

All she felt was murderous intent.

Boundless and deep murderous intent.

Kaslan's eyes were filled with an unclear expression, and his spear shook in the air, and the tip of the spear turned into an afterimage in an instant.

call!

The gun is in front of you.

What came from the void was pure murderous intent.

Ada spread her arms like a bird, her knees sank, her back bent, and her head tilted back inconceivably.

The dark tip of the soul-killing gun cut through the air and barely missed Ada's chin.

The next second, the elf's silver pupils shrank slightly, his body turned gracefully to one side, just in time to avoid the gun head, and his whole body bounced back to its original shape like a long bow stretched to the extreme.

Her bright white hair is fluttering in the air, giving her a breathtaking beauty. Together with her body that is bent and stretched to the extreme, it forms a picture full of power.

Ada rolled onto his side and opened a safe enough distance from his opponent.

Kaslan withdrew his spear and looked at her coldly.

Ada sighed silently in her heart.

Even though Soul Killer had pushed her to the brink of life and death several times, what Ada received from beginning to end was the purest killing intent.

There is not a shred of exact consciousness, behavior or attitude.

It is completely different from the previous Kaslan.

Even the simplest birds, beasts, insects, and snakes should have clear consciousness and awareness, right?

The elf focused her gaze on the tip of her opponent's spear, and decisively cut off the waves of consciousness fragments coming in - she knew that there would only be pure and unadulterated killing intent in it, and nothing else.

This is a guy who can completely control his own consciousness. In battle, he discards all thoughts and intentions, completely letting go of himself and giving it to the fighting instinct.

Making her powers useless.

Ada sternly threw out a sword and adjusted the distance between her feet.

There is only one condition that can create such a warrior - Ada looked at the expressionless Kaslan and thought silently.

battlefield.

It is not those quick battles such as sneak attacks, assaults, pursuits and annihilations.

It was the kind of bloody battles and tough battles that were accumulated in darkness, mountains of corpses, and seas of blood.

Boundless battlefield, constant fighting, threats everywhere, dangers from all directions, bloody waves after waves, the enemy breaks through one layer after another, this kind of tormenting and terrible hell can turn normal people into mere mortals.

Beasts that know how to fight and survive can create the most powerful and unparalleled killing tools after the warriors become red-blooded.

Over the long years, she has encountered such opponents before.

Ada closed her eyes gently.

it's time.

Abandon all excess abilities and burdens and face the most primitive battle.

Just like her ancestors and predecessors.

When I was a child, my eldest sister’s teachings on the training field reappeared in my ears, as clear as before.

"Ada, you have to remember that as elves, we love beauty and nature."

Under the bright white holy tree, the eldest sister's words were extremely serious, carrying the majesty of her father - although Ada had only experienced her father's consciousness a hundred years before she was born, she had never heard his voice with her own ears.

.

"But elves are never weak people to be bullied." The eldest sister clasped her hands behind her back, facing the trembling woman, and said calmly:

"We are heretics from the ancient elven kingdom, but we are also their most powerful descendant branch."

"We are the most militant and adept at fighting among all the remaining elves in this world..."

"Holy Spirit."

The eldest sister looked solemn, turned around and moved aside.

She gave way to the three captives who were tied up behind her.

They were three round-eared, trembling, extremely anxious humans: one had his hair shaved with only a ring in the middle, like a rooster, one had thick oil on his hair, and one actually had a bald head. They all looked at them.

He spoke human language in a jittery voice.

That cock was ugly, but the thick oil made it not so ugly. There was also a bald head, and it looked so--god, it made her sick.

"Ada, according to tradition," Ada still remembers her eldest sister's words, the expressions of the three humans struggling desperately, and the cold smile on her eldest sister's lips: "Raise your knife."

"Cut off their heads."

"Complete your rite of passage."

Ada opened her eyes, and the elf's extraordinary memory allowed her to clearly remember every detail in her memories.

The combat moves that she once learned proficiently, but gradually became unfamiliar after relying on supernatural powers, returned to her body.

She clenched the scimitar in her hand and rushed towards Kaslan.

————

He is very thirsty.

My throat is about to burn.

The same dry tongue rubbed against his teeth, giving him a strange friction feeling, like coarse cloth rubbing against logs.

He panted and lay down on the hot sand, using the shelter of the large sand dunes to avoid the fatal dangers - the sun, the wild sand, and the enemy.

He couldn't help but tighten the hilt of the sword in his right hand: even his family sword was covered in dust and blood.

So tired and in pain.

He moved his swollen and sore wrists, feeling the burning pain in his shoulders, and gritted his teeth and persisted.

Damn it, that gray bastard still has barbs on his hammer.

Of course, compared with his Captain Wanda, whose strength is above the super level, he is already very lucky - part of the captain's brain is probably still left on the head of the hammer.

I just felt sorry for Captain Wanda's sweetheart who was still waiting for him in the Wing Castle. I heard that the captain had desperately rescued her from the hands of the bandits.

Pity.

He sighed secretly in his heart.

The pain came again.

He slightly loosened the hot armor on his body and pulled open his sticky collar that was stained with sweat and blood.

No matter what happens, the injury needs to be taken care of - he thought.

A kettle flew from the air and fell into the sand beside him, making a dent.

He turned his head in confusion.

"Use this, low-quality chaka wine that even hyenas don't drink. I bribed it from the quartermaster." A veteran with a bandage wrapped around his left eye leaned casually on the sand dune, using the hand without the bandage.

, took out the flint with difficulty, and skillfully lit the homemade cigarette in his mouth: "As long as you don't drink it in your mouth, it's good to use it to pour the wound."

"Thank you." With his mind completely blank, he turned over, gasped, grabbed the wine bottle, and struggled to open it.

The veteran finally lit the thick cigarette in his mouth and threw away the flint in his hand without hesitation.

As a burst of smoke floated out, the veteran took a deep breath, hummed and moaned happily, then stretched out his bloody hand, pinched off the cigarette butt with a slap, and buried it in the sand - worse for the eyes than a vulture

For poisonous scouts, even the smallest amount of smoke can attract attention.

"It's not the time for us to talk about this here." The veteran buried his face in the sand and blew out his only puff of smoke comfortably.

He gritted his teeth, looked at the chaka wine reflecting the sun in the kettle, rubbed the corners of his dry and cracked mouth, resisted the urge to sip, raised his head and asked, "What?"

"We don't say 'thank you'," the veteran turned over and rudely slapped away the elbow that occupied some of his body, then turned to him and said, "It's too disgusting."

He looked at the kettle in his hand, then at the ugly and hideous wound on his shoulder, and sighed hesitantly.

It passed quickly.
To be continued...