Chapter 250

The scorching sun.

"Pa!"

The whip, with the sharp wind, pulled on the back of a thin boy. The thin cloth was torn open, leaving cyan scars.

But the whip never stopped, like a poisonous snake biting. Under this fierce attack, the linen clothes soon broke, and the skin on the back was torn, dripping with eye-catching blood.

But the boy clenched his teeth, carried the wood, withstood the burning sun and the beating of the whip, his gray green eyes with the color of perseverance, and his bare soles walked on the hot earth without saying a word.

"It's stubborn. Hey, hey, you little body, I don't believe it. I can't cure you!"

The whip wielding supervisor sneered. He deliberately aimed at the thin boy, but the effect of setting an example was obviously poor, which led to his resentment.

The slave workers around turned a blind eye. They were carrying heavy building materials, and their hearts had long been numbed by the cruelty of reality.

"Pa!"

The fierce whip waved over again, turned over the flesh and blood scars, and was sweating under the scorching sun, bringing more severe pain.

Finally, the boy finally got a pain, the wood was thrown aside, and the whole man was pulled over on the dry ground.

"Hum, useless waste, I can't even bear such a small thing!"

The supervisor smiled bitterly. He maliciously accused the boy of poor physical strength. Even wood was the least weight.

But when he looked back, he suddenly found that he had followed the thin boy all the way, even the destination was close in front of him, and he was annoyed by the contemptuous eyes of some nobles.

"Waste!"

He vented his anger on the boy and kicked over the other party's thin body. The broken linen clothes were stained with a mottled blood stain. When the whip was about to be whipped, a strong hand held his wrist.

"Stop it, Yabo, you'll kill him."

A bearded man looked at the wounded boy and said angrily, "if you kill him, the patriarch will not spare you!"

Hearing the speech, Yabo, who was about to fight back, stared at him. He took back his whip, stared at the boy panting on the ground with cold eyes, and showed a dull sneer at the corners of his mouth.

"Do you really think you can eat and sleep well if you have an illegitimate son? Hey, don't daydream. This terrible and cheap hair color is like a piece of linen. Your mother is afraid that she is not a prostitute in the tavern and fools around with a group of mercenaries drinking wheat wine."

Yabo looked at the boy contemptuously and taught the slave class lower than him that he would realize the privilege of power.

As for worrying about the boy's revenge?

Hehe, there are three mistresses of the patriarch. Not to mention that the patriarch is more romantic in private. One night stands are routine operations, and they are common as his subordinates.

Women can't play, and they don't have the energy to know his illegitimate son who sows everywhere.

"Asshole..."

The boy held back his anger, pinched his fingernails into his palm and turned over a layer of skin to keep him awake from being blinded by anger.

The long oppression made him learn to endure.

"The hair color is really a little worse, but these eyes are very similar to the patriarch."

The bearded man glanced at the boy's pupil and suddenly surprised, but Yabo hammered him on the chest and motioned him not to talk. His wife is patrolling nearby. Don't cause unnecessary trouble to herself.

"It's just a slave who dares to contradict me without even opening the rank. However, in the face of my friend, I'll let you go this time. Next time, I dare to put on this smelly face. Don't blame me for hanging you up and beating... Then, invite your mother to come and enjoy her son's heroic posture, ha ha ha!"

Yabo took back his eyes, laughed and turned to the construction site on the other side.

The bearded man looked at the boy piteously. He threw him a bag of externally applied medicine. Before leaving, he looked at the boy's gray green eyes and said curiously:

"What's your name, child?"

"Fei... Lang... Sith."

……

"Squeak!"

The broken door was pushed open, and Francis dragged his wounds into the rotten wooden house.

He held three copper eagles and a bag of medicine, but they were all taken away by a woman.

The woman's skirt was stained with oil, and her long flaxen hair was dry and without a trace of luster. The pale brilliance reflected the woman's withered and yellow skin and slightly bloated figure, revealing the signs of her old age and color decline.

Francis doesn't care. The woman is his mother, a maid who is often taken advantage of in the tavern. If the guest offers a good salary, she doesn't mind working part-time on a one night stand, buying some meat for her young children and improving the food.

"Hurt again?"

The woman took off Francis's clothes, scrubbed each other's body and applied medicine.

The man with beard was one of the customers who once favored her. He was reluctantly called a childhood sweetheart when he was young. At the woman's instruction, he took more care of Frances.

Facing his mother's question, Francis kept silent. He knew that the other party knew.

"Well, the medicine hurts a little. Bear it."

The woman took a cotton swab and rubbed some medicine. The latter was silent, but there was a slight grinding sound in the quiet wooden house.

After taking the medicine, the woman looked at her rough fingers and was in a trance.

If it weren't for her infatuation with that handsome and excellent man in her teenage years, maybe she would have another new life

"Who sent that?"

Suddenly, Francis's eyes were frozen. He stared at a basin of flowers on the windowsill. The pink violets took root and sprouted. They were entrenched on the wall outside the window. The flowers gathered together and hung down, as bright and charming as curtains.

This is a flower increased by magic, which can grow rapidly in a short time.

If the increase of magic exceeds a certain degree, the violets will undergo variety changes and be promoted to the essence of violet, which is the favorite of magicians.

"Oh, it's from Uncle Tom."

"Tom? Isn't this guy a bastard of the fangs mercenary regiment? How can you take his things?!"

Francis was vaguely angry. His cold and calm face finally changed. He looked a little unhappy.

"Don't be so rude. Uncle Tom takes good care of our family."

The woman laughed. She left Francis and dressed up in the dresser. But she saw the wrinkles on her cheeks in the mirror, so she took out a poor foundation and patted it.

"By the way, you have some food first. Go to the pub to help in the evening. I've agreed with the boss."

……

As the night grew darker, Francis sat on the stone platform and looked up at the broken moon in the sky.

The moon seems to have been bitten. It is very sad, causing the world to darken.

It is said that since the night goddess swallowed the night sky and exploded the moon, the broken moon is the eyes of the night goddess. The moonlight swept through the eyes of the goddess, which can bring the whole northern Europe to the bottom of her eyes. She is regarded as the lookout of the northern European God, also known as the watcher goddess.