The setting sun is setting in the west, and the crimson sunset is falling slantingly, disappearing under the horizon layer by layer.
Vendors on the street were packing their things and throwing small bags of goods on carts. The lights in the pubs and hotels were lit one by one; the farmers carrying hoes and sacks on their shoulders had also returned from the fields outside the town.
Arriving in the city, the citizens of Gray Pine Town spent another peaceful day.
This is the town of Gray Pine in the Solleka district of Carral. A small city that was once famous for growing gray pine trees.
The bark of gray pine can be used as a spice to remove the fishy smell after a set of processes of drying, roasting and grinding. Forty years ago, this was the only town in Karar where gray pine was planted on a large scale, and it was famous for it.
Pay attention. Because the source of gray rosin is monopolized, this plant spice that is not difficult to survive was once sold at a sky-high price.
But just thirty-eight years ago, in the year 879 of the Calendar of the Gods, the great sage Friedrich implemented the planned planting system, and white-robed druids were sent to the countryside in large numbers to occupy land in various planting areas.
After sampling and testing, several plants that were most suitable for planting in this land were selected and mixed together for planting. Gray Pine Town was also forced to hand over gray pine saplings because three areas were found to be more suitable for gray pine trees to survive.
Those smiling white-robed druids.
Since then, no certain crop has been produced from one area in the entire Karar. Since ten years ago, the last gray pine tree in Gray Pine Town has been completely reduced to ashes. Now they have Karar Red Wheat.
One of the main producing areas, but they still stubbornly hold on to the name of Huisong Town.
The old people chanted, "This is the glory of our ancestors, this is the history of the town." They repeatedly told the history of the town to the young people. But even the best-tempered young people couldn't stand these old people.
They would rather work, bury all their strength in the ground, and then pray to Mother Gaia for a good harvest in the coming year.
As for who Mother Gaia is? They themselves don't know. They only know that the druids who blessed the seeds and the land carved the pictures on the stones like this. They made a ring and then said something about Mother Gaia.
These smart country folk followed suit, and a few famous druids emerged over the years, and eventually this idea spread.
Now is a good time for winter plowing. Red wheat ripens once a season. Plant a small batch of red wheat now, and then plant some sweet grass to nourish the ground. When next April, harvest the wheat and throw the wheat straw into the ground.
The Druid master can mix sweetgrass and wheat straw with a wave of his hand to make good fertilizer. The sweetgrass fruits that are removed can also be sold for pocket money.
The life of the Kalar people is so comfortable and comfortable. They believe in the laws of nature and naturally receive natural feedback. Although it cannot be said that life is luxurious, they can still eat well, wear warm clothes, and form a world of their own. There is no understanding.
External desires and desires. There is no doubt that the life of the Kalar people can indeed be considered happy.
The great sage's barrier surrounded the entire Karar. From then on, there was no winter in Karar that could freeze people to death, nor was there heavy rain that lasted for several days without stopping. This is one of the reasons why the people of Karar looked down on those priests.
If your god is here, ask him to stop the blizzard? If the druid can't control the weather, which he can change at will, then the god is not a god. He can only be said to be a powerful mortal.
Because the environment in Karar is comfortable enough, many foreigners often come across the border to escape the cold winter, of course, provided they can afford the sky-high transit fees.
But that's a transit fee for the lord, a transit fee for the sage. It has nothing to do with ordinary people like them carrying hoes to dig food from the fields.
So, there is no need for them to show respect to these foreigners, right?
A little boy with short gray hair is walking down the street alone.
His face is young and young, and he looks like he is only twelve or thirteen years old. The bangs on his forehead droop deeply, covering half of his face. He gives people a very introverted feeling.
He was carrying luggage, and he looked like a traveler from afar. But when he checked in, he was turned away by the hotel, and could only walk alone on the street. Just looking at him made people feel sad.
I feel sad.
But this child still clenched his teeth, did not sob, and looked calm. He was so strong that it made people feel heartbroken.
But even so, no one dared to talk to him.
It wasn't that they thought the child was scary. It was the men who followed the child like ghosts who forced them back with vicious eyes.
There were about six or seven of them, men in their early twenties scattered around with their heads covered, so their faces could not be seen clearly. Judging from their figures, there were also older men and teenagers in their thirties mixed in.
What they all have in common is that they have obvious malice in their actions.
They held sticks in their hands and their eyes were bloodshot. They were like hyenas seeing a lamb.
In fact, it's not bad. To them, the gray-haired little boy is just a fat lamb.
Come to think of it, there are no gray-haired people in the entire Karar, which means that he is a tourist from abroad. And tourists who enter in winter undoubtedly pay a sky-high transit fee to come in. If he is
A stowaway would definitely not walk on the road openly. It would be terrible if he met a druid and couldn't produce his identification.
In other words, they must have money.
A child of about 11 or 12 years old, or even younger, came to Karar alone at this time. What does this mean?
That's right. This is definitely a fat sheep.
Either he is wanted by the temple, he is a young master who has run away from home, or he is the heir to a down-and-out noble. The possibility of getting separated from his bodyguard is not small.
As long as he is beaten to death in the dark and windy night, and then runs away quickly, no one will know who did it.
A young man stared at him with red eyes, and gradually tightened his grip on the stick with spikes in his hand. It could be vaguely seen that the tips of the spikes had turned black, and the spikes were slightly bent.
This is not the first time he has killed someone.
Although he is only in his early twenties, he has already claimed the lives of three people. Because of his tight organization, clean handling of the tail, coupled with his adaptability and excellent acting skills, he has not been suspected so far. This has made him
A sense of superiority and the excitement of holding other people's lives in your hands.
Today, this is the fourth
He told himself in his heart.
Watching the child turn into a dark alley in search of a hotel, he trotted over under the urging of his companions, using the rudimentary stealth skills he had learned from an old Goldfinger, and made very little noise while stepping on his feet.
And with messy steps, he ran over and hit the child on the back of the head with a stick.
The child fell down immediately.
He was still uneasy, even though he couldn't see clearly in the dark, so he picked up the stick and hit it on the neck and back of the head several times. The people behind him also followed and hit him in the face.
After smashing for about three minutes, feeling that the touch on the head had changed, they took out a rag and held it in front of their hands, tore away the package from the little boy, and then searched him personally before giving up.
"He's a damn... he's a smuggler! He's got no money!"
"Don't worry! Get out!"
They threw down the rags, wiped the blood marks on their hands unknowingly, and then fled in all directions.
Unfortunately, they didn't see that after they left, the child whose head was smashed stood up again staggeringly.
His eyes flashed with scarlet light.
The sun set in the west and the afterglow dissipated. The citizens of Huisong Town spent another peaceful day. (To be continued.) For mobile phone users, please visit http://m.piaotian.net