Chapter 109

"What kind of weirdo will I meet?" Zhao Mai asked curiously. Since Wordsworth said the word "noumenon", it is more appropriate to walk outside as "separation", or "separation". In Zhao Mai's knowledge system, with a lot of separate, or proficient in this technology, the bad guys are more. It seems that good people are celibate against evil and die when they die. But one villain died and another came out. Some even didn't bother to say "I'll come back.".

Full of wishful thinking, does not affect Zhao Mai's action. He followed the robust Wadsworth all the way to the depths of the mangroves. At this time, it was dark, and it was time to have a meal and rest, but the natural force around him was still strong. Zhao did not feel hungry or sleepy. A crescent moon rises from the horizon. The cold and sharp moonlight is like a blade, making a notch on the black curtain. With the moonlight, the gray fog rose from the swamp, hazy covered the black ground, and the lower yecigu. Only the reed could lean out of the fog and sway gently with the breeze.

In the distance, a crow flew by. The sound of quacking made the night even colder. It swept over the fog, rolling white fog entangled its wings, just like a pale tentacle. Zhao Mai had a cold war and suddenly remembered many scenes of horror films. Numerous bones stand up from the fog, skull with orange light, forming an army of the dead. Where the footprints of the dead tread, extinction sweeps everything.

"What are you thinking?" Wordsworth suddenly said, "your natural force is a little unstable. Is it fatigue?"

"Well, I'm just thinking, no problem." Zhao Mai laughed awkwardly twice.

The fog of the swamp stopped at the boundary of the mangroves, as if they knew whose territory it was. Crows fly through the fog, enter the mangrove area, stop on the branches to rest and trim their feathers. After a while, a group of crows flew over and stopped by the crows. They are no longer noisy, quiet, with a pair of red eyes look around.

"They won't hurt my friends, will they?" Zhao Mai asked with some worry.

"They don't hurt anyone, especially your friends. They are my eyes and ears, and they bring me news from the swamp. What bad things are goblins doing? Where are dangerous traps? Are there adventurers entering this dangerous place again? " Wordsworth struck the thickest tree with his staff, and its roots moved away to reveal the sloping hole below. "I'm in there. You go in."

Only by squatting down can Zhao Mai enter the cave. It's a warm and comfortable burrow. There's no stink, no bugs drilling around. Although there is no furniture here, the twisted roots can be used as tables, chairs and even beds. Overhead, the side of the body, emitting fluorescent moss reluctantly provide lighting, can let Zhao Mai see the road under his feet and the direction to move forward.

"A little further, young Druid," Wordsworth's voice came from the front, the same as his separation, but it was light and swaying like a whisper in the wind. Zhao Mai quickly walked a few steps, and finally arrived at a round cave, which should be right under a big tree. When the root comes to the top of the head, it turns around in all directions, leaving space while firmly grasping the soil to form a stable wall here. This is no longer a wilderness style, but a warm and comfortable home. Several carpets of different styles were spread all over the room. Patched quilts and pillows were placed in the corner. A kettle was hissing and steaming, but there was no flame burning underneath.

If Wordsworth didn't deliberately cheat, then the halfling in front of him should be his body - or, to be exact, the front half. This race can only reach the waist position of adults, forever baby face, forever child skin. In addition to a lot of work will make them a little more mature, otherwise they are always like children.

Everyone likes halflings because everyone likes to eat them. Of course, it's not eating halflings. That's too evil. Halflings are good gardeners, cooks, wine makers and cigarette makers. Although this sentence is as absolute as "dwarves are good blacksmiths" and even biased, it can fully reflect the reason why this race is popular.

However, the halfling Zhao Mai saw was old and weak. His skin was covered with a layer of hard bark. When he moved, he would make his teeth ache. Druids have a spell called "tree skin", which can add an extra layer of bark armor. But that spell will never affect people's actions, let alone give people such a terrible appearance.

"Hello, for the record, I'm Wordsworth, a halfling Druid." He spoke in a very light voice, which could only be heard with concentration. Then he stretched out his hand, and a root of the tree dropped from the ceiling and stopped in front of Zhao Mai. There are five branches at the top of the root, just like a palm.

Zhao Mai thought about it for a while, bypassed the roots and shook hands with the halfling. Like Wordsworth before, the halfling in front of us has no sense of the natural force. So how does he manipulate these trees? How did he survive?

"I'm glad to see Druid again. He is still a lively and active apprentice." Wordsworth sighed: "it's been a long time since I met goblins, beasts, and greedy or brave adventurers. I don't trust them, just as they don't trust the natural force. You are a person who is willing to learn, and you are just starting. It is the best time"What's the best time to do?" Zhao Mai asked.

"The strongest time of a big tree is not when it has luxuriant branches and leaves, but when its seeds break through the ground. It was the time when life conquered death, the time when it first connected itself to the force. At that time, I made a great wish to live with heaven and earth, the sun and the moon. I hope to be the new God in charge of the power of nature and to protect the growth of druids from generation to generation. "

"Well, what a big wish." Zhao Mai scratched his head: "obviously you failed, right?"

"Yes. There can be no gods trapped in the tree hole. Of course, there is no possibility that the gods will lose their progress and imprison themselves. " Wordsworth smiles. The bark falls off his face, revealing New bark. He said in a hoarse voice, "my failure is to be too proud. How can I succeed when I have the weakness of God before I get the power of God? I've been to the community of infernal beings, when I can still move with my legs, and I can see with my eyes. I saw the tree of understanding. The wisdom of countless predecessors warned me that I would fail, and then persuasion. "

"You are only the thought of the Druid, and the wisdom of the Druid is not of the natural force!" That's how I answered them. After that, I came here quietly, trying to create a new understanding tree by myself. But this time, I will record the thoughts of the natural force and learn from it the wisdom of the way of nature. Flowers, fish, insects, wind, rain, snow and fog, you can leave your experience here. "

"So I'm trapped here, and even my own natural force is assimilated by mangroves. Once I leave, it's equivalent to losing all my life and turning into soil and dust. " Wordsworth gave a wry smile: "I wanted to be a God, but I turned into a tree demon. I have only one wish left in my life, that is, to see the tree again, to tell it my mistakes, and to alert future generations. "

The tree half body man tilted his body, turned his head and looked at the flowerpot behind Zhao Mai: "do you hear that, Xiaoti Wushu?"