Nightmare’s Call

The iron door opened, Lin Sheng walked in quickly and closed the iron door with his backhand.

Holding the black sword, he glanced around the courtyard of the mansion.

There were scattered black floes on the ground in the yard, I don't know what it was. The floes were constantly rolling on the ground by the cold wind.

A copper nameplate hung on the fence on the right side of the iron door, covered with patina and mildew.

Lin Sheng reached out and wiped the nameplate, revealing the fuzzy patterns and handwriting below.

‘Sir Kayaman House — 6 Temple Street’

Below the handwriting is a large owl-like fluttering pattern.

"A jazz house?"

Lin Sheng narrowed his eyes and stopped looking.

Looking back, he stepped forward with a sword, and entered the empty courtyard with vigilance.

Heading into the fountain, he soon walked to the stone monument in front of the fountain pool.

With the moonlight, he was vigilant as he scanned the text written on it.

‘No credit is accepted. ’

‘No currency. ’

‘Feiton family members are not accepted. ’

‘If you have something or news that interests me, maybe I ’ll waive it for you. ’——Kayaman West

"This place doesn't seem to be an ordinary jazz house ..." Lin Sheng had some speculation in his heart.

Bypassing the stele, he walked straight to the gate of the mansion.

On the white gate is a embossed owl with big wings spread out.

As Lin Sheng approached, the big bird creaked, slowly closed his wings and opened his eyes. The door slowly opened automatically, revealing an entrance just for one person to enter.

Lin Sheng was startled by the sudden movement and immediately put on a vigilant posture.

However, after putting on a stance, nothing happened.

There was only a crack in the door, and a faint cold wind continued to flow.

Then he squinted, pointed at the door with his sword, and nudged gently.

The door opened slowly and completely.

Inside is a spacious and gorgeous golden hall.

On the wall directly opposite the gate, a giant oil painting hangs. It is a middle-aged, brown-haired curly-haired man with a moustache and a refined noble bodysuit full of medals.

Lin Sheng looked at it by moonlight.

The middle-aged man in the oil painting seems to hold a sword in his hand, and a large black dog is squatting on his side.

The black dog squatted almost as high as the man's chest, with a mighty form, with black mane on both sides of his neck, like a black lion.

His heart tightened, but he didn't plan to retreat quickly.

After absorbing so many memory fragments and meditating for so long, the grey-printed runes, he also has a certain confidence in his strength at this time.

Just testing the white line displayed on the tower also shows that he is now a second-level fighter even in the former Black Feather City.

Not to mention the second fighter who inherited the gray print.

The second level, in the black feather city system, can be regarded as an elite soldier. Even if he may be because of the gray rune, he was rated as the second level.

But it's enough.

Lin Sheng has fragments of memory, so he knows that his physical fitness is far less than that of the second-level soldier.

In other words, he was able to be rated second-class, most likely because of the grey-printed runes of meditation.

The grey-printed runes gave him good resistance. This is his confidence!

Holding the sword in both hands, Lin Sheng slowly walked into the hall.

He began to search from left to right, a little bit next to the wall, searching for cabinets and dark grids around the wall.

The dense cabinets and dark grids were quickly opened for inspection. But it was empty and nothing.

All the way to the huge oil painting on the wall, Lin Sheng suddenly moved and stopped.

He seemed to hear something.

A slight footstep was approaching.

In the hall, the floor was not carpeted, but hard and hard slate.

There was no obvious concealment of the footsteps, and there was a slight click on the hard stone.

Lin Sheng turned around and clenched the black sword tightly.

Suddenly in the corner of his eye, a dark shadow flashed on the right.

"Come here!" Lin Sheng waved his hands in an instant, severely chopping off the shadow.

clang! !!

The two swords fought.

The dark shadow was exposed in the moonlight obliquely out of the window, revealing its figure.

He is a masked swordsman with a height of about one meter seven.

What made Lin Sheng somewhat surprised was that the masked swordsman was actually a woman.

She wore tight black leather armor, tall chest, long black hair tied into a ponytail, and a mask covering all the faces under her eyes.

But through the close face mask, she can still see that she looks good.

Soon the second sword came again.

Lin Sheng held the sword in both hands, swinging to the side, and just opened the opponent's blade with a clang.

Unexpectedly, the female swordsman held a sword in one hand, and pulled out a short knife with his other hand, which was a straight piercing at him.

The short knife is aligned with Lin Sheng's lower abdomen.

His abdomen flinched, avoiding the short knife, and at the same time he turned sideways, avoiding the sweeping edge of the opponent.

The two fought hurriedly in the hall.

Just less than ten breaths, Lin Sheng was stroked twice. All of them were short-handed, making him busy.

The masked female swordsman shot very fast, more than one grade faster than Lin Sheng.

If it hadn't been for his gray-seal shelter to work, I'm afraid the two knives could have just opened his stomach.

Fortunately, the opponent's swordsmanship is not strong. In the face of Lin Sheng, which combines mercenary instincts and orthodox black feather swordsmanship, he is still a bit inferior.

The two fought fast, the blades colliding almost twice a second.

A large amount of physical exertion made Lin Sheng breathless and his chest twitched like a blower.

But the female swordsman was like a perpetual motion machine, without fatigue, and still maintained the original crazy attack frequency.

The only thing Lin Sheng was grateful for was that the other party's eyes were dark and unconscious, and he seemed to be wielding a sword just by instinct.

Huh!

Suddenly he kicked and kicked the low stool on the ground.

The low stool slammed open by the female swordsman. Before she could continue to pounce, Lin Sheng pulled a wooden bookshelf and pressed it down.

A crackling sound.

The female swordsman was stunned, and her chest was stabbed in the middle by a black sword pierced from the gap between the bookshelves.

She rushed forward two steps frantically, allowing the black sword to penetrate her chest and reveal it from her back.

A large amount of black blood poured from the edge of her wound. The female swordsman seemed to be unaware. She kept struggling, waving a sword, and hacking at Lin Sheng behind the bookshelf.

Unfortunately, as the blood flowed more and more, her movements became slower and slower, and finally she threw herself forward and fell to the ground, her head hitting the bookshelf, and she fell to the ground.

Lin Sheng vigorously moved the black sword, pulled out and stabbed it severely at the female swordsman. She was relieved that she was not moving.

"This monster, if it wasn't too stupid, would have to chop me by carrying a bookshelf. It must be me this time."

Lin Sheng was afraid after a while.

Just because he was a second-level swordsman, he was a bit swollen, and he quickly cooled down.

The female swordsman in front of her, if she did not become a monster, completely lost her mind, for fear that it would be easy to kill him in this duel.

Speed ​​is faster than him, endurance is stronger than him, except for the slightly weaker sword move, others are advantages.

"It doesn't seem to die, but it must not move." Lin Sheng pushed open the bookshelf and set it aside gently.

He walked to the female swordsman, squatted down, and quickly checked the booty.

The long sword in the female swordsman's hand is of unusual quality. After the collision with the black sword, she has already lost a few mouths.

On her body, the side of the towering chest and leather armor, pinned by three black steel needles, do not know what purpose it is for.

On the side of the slender waist, a black skin hangs.

Lin Sheng took the skin pack, opened it and fell down, and grunted out a yellow paper roll.

He picked up the paper roll and unfolded it quickly. The writing on it was a little fuzzy, as if it were a list of items.

‘Three adults’ whole body blood, one standard bottle of deer blood, and one standard unit of redwood. Nine standard units of silver powder-ritual worship. ’