Rather than chatting with the professor, Roland would rather chat with the Wind Whisperer.
This man is so dangerous. In every sense of the word.
Roland looked at the professor with some fear and took a sip from the fruit wine on the table.
"What, doesn't it suit your taste?"
The professor hung his white coat on the hanger, revealing the woolen shirt underneath. He tilted his head in distress, walked over, and sat down.
"Please make do with it, I don't have any brain reserves here, Miss Brain-Eating Demon."
"Stop joking, Professor," Roland said softly in a hoarse voice without any concealment, "Do you really believe that I am a brain-eating monster?"
"Oh."
The professor chuckled lightly, hung his white coat at the door, took off his white gloves with a pungent smell, turned around and sat opposite Roland.
He looked at Roland with interest and said, "I was indeed just joking. But now I'm starting to doubt it."
"If I were a brain-eating monster, I wouldn't be here at all, Professor."
Roland said tit for tat.
"Who knows? Maybe, but what I'm saying is... maybe you should try this."
With that said, the professor pushed over a small cup of attractive crystal red liquid.
"Wanling wine... right? This is good stuff."
Roland put it under his nose and smelled it gently, looked at the professor deeply, and then drank it down without hesitation.
The professor showed a knowing smile, raised his hands to support it, and asked softly: "Aren't you afraid that I will put medicine in it?"
"All harmful medicinal properties should be eliminated by Wanling Wine. I think you should know this."
Roland narrowed his eyes and said straight to the point.
"Oh? Is that so?"
The professor's tone had no fluctuation, but his eyes suddenly became sharp, and then he exchanged a look with Roland.
It was a wine made from the pulp of the panacea using the professor's unique process. Although theoretically the panacea is just the berries of the mistletoe, if the berries come from the incarnation of the White Mistle Druid, and are made by the Golden Oak Druid,
Rui used a sacred ceremony to remove it with a golden sickle on a sacred day. Then it was sublimated and became a holy medicine that can treat all natural diseases. Wanling wine is the extraction of the essence of Wanling medicine. After drinking it,
The effect is equivalent to receiving an eight-ring divine spell [complete recovery].
But if it is fed to the underground races, they will fall into a long-lasting coma in an instant. This is not because the natural energy restrains the underground races, but simply because the druids' ancestors were hostile to the underground races, making them specialize in
All the recovery abilities of druids are set to be ineffective against underground races. Just like the healing abilities of priests are ineffective against the undead - not because of physical defects, but because of the backdoor left by the opposition between the camps.
However, the reason why Roland drank the Wanling Wine happily was that besides telling the professor that he was a human being, a more important reason was that he revealed his knowledge of the Wanling Wine from the side.
You know, the professor only developed the Wanling Wine this year, and the incarnation of the White Druid will only begin to solidify after it snows... In other words, the professor will not be able to make this thing for more than a day at most.
.
The professor has a good habit, that is, every time he develops a new thing, he will make sure that it is harmless before letting others use it.
When the professor gave him this thing, Roland already knew that the professor had definitely done experiments on Wanling Wine. And the developer, Professor, had just figured out the effect of Wanling Wine, so Roland could tell him directly that the matter itself
It means something.
For example, some great being has set its sights on the professor.
In this world, no mortal can spy on the professor without being discovered.
The professor looked at Roland, and his mind quickly flashed through the possibilities, and then they were rejected one by one.
Then, he had two possibilities in his mind.
Either Roland discovered this incident by accident and came here to want something from him; or Roland himself belonged to that great being and came here to want something from him.
The professor knew very well: This "brain-eating demon" in black robes came here to tell him this matter, and it was impossible that he had no motive. Although the professor personally preferred the latter out of some caution, no matter which direction he looked at it
, no one with less than a black body rank can cause any substantial damage to the professor.
Then the question comes——
"What do you want?"
The professor looked at Roland with almost ruthless silver-gray pupils, but his tone was gentle and rhythmic.
Roland smiled under the shadow of darkness.
"I want to give you a favor."
"Send it to me?"
The middle-aged alchemist asked slowly in a descriptive tone.
Roland nodded slightly and repeated, "I want to give you a favor."
Facing the professor's eyes that gradually came to life and began to look like a human being rather than a cold machine, Roland opened his mouth and slowly revealed his plan.
At the same time, in a tavern on Broken Throat Avenue, a homeless man whispered to his friend next to him: "Did you hear that the Silent Wizard seems to be threatened by someone?"
"You must have drunk too much. Mr. Donald is a gold-level warrior. How can he be so easily threatened?"
His companion glanced at him and simply took a sip of butterbeer.
The homeless man scratched his head and said hesitantly, "Maybe."
As if aware of the hesitation in his tone, he immediately added loudly: "No matter what the reason is, everyone knows that Sir Donald is going to go to war with Qingguo Avenue."
"Oh, it would be great if we really wanted to start a war. How could those thin-skinned nightingales be able to defeat our Throat-Breaking Staff——"
Just as the tramp's companions were squinting in the sun and muttering, a dark shadow suddenly blocked their sunlight.
When they saw clearly the identity of the person in front of them, their pupils immediately shrank:
It was a figure wearing dark-colored tight-fitting leather armor. Even under the early morning sunlight, the shadows around the figure were still thick, making it impossible to see the person's face.
Of course, the homeless man was even more fortunate that he couldn't see his face clearly.
The only people dressed like this near the Broken Maw Avenue are the Murkrow killers - they are the staunch opponents of the Silent Wizard, and the troops directly under the former controller of the Broken Maw Avenue.
"Gentlemen," the assassin from Darkcrow said in a low voice, "I'd like to hear it. Tell me about it."
The silence caused by fear lasted for several seconds. At this time, two silver coins fell to the ground, and a clear and lovely sound sounded, echoing in the homeless man's ears.
The killer from the Dark Crow stomped hard on the hand that the homeless friend secretly extended. Then with the sound of cracking bones and the painful wail, his long and deep voice sounded again: "I hope
You can give me a good answer. If I know that I was delayed for three minutes because of a homeless man's nonsense... I think you understand."
The tramp swallowed a sip of saliva, subconsciously touched a gold coin hidden in the most intimate part of his arms, and followed the instructions of the gentleman in black robes to carefully explain what happened this morning.
Nothing to hide.
The content included the letter, the man in black robe, the patrolling wizard whose face suddenly became nervous, the angry roar transmitted directly from home to Mr. Donald on the street, and he spoke thoroughly and carefully to the killer.
once.
But the only thing he didn't say was what the man in black robe told him, and the gold coin engraved with the pattern of winged leaves that he treasured in his chest as much as his life. For mobile phone users, please visit http://