Chapter 419: 418 The ‘hunger’ of bones

Chapter 419: 418 The ‘hunger’ of bones

Chapter 419 418. The hunger of bones

Fuck! My teeth!

Lan En sat on Poppy's back, holding the reins with one hand and stuffing a hard lump like a compressed biscuit into his mouth with the other.

He has been walking for several days since he left the small fisherman's wharf outside the city wall of Gos Velen.

Now, the witcher has walked out of the border of Temeria, even brushing the edge of Broklon Forest, and is about to pass through Brugg.

This place now is close to the land of Sintra.

Stop complaining, sir. You can obviously wait until the break to boil this large piece of ceramic compound ration until it is soft before eating. You cant help it yourself.

Mentos complained helplessly.

The well-spoken and clever biological brain saved Lan En from having to talk to his horse all the way.

But Im hungry, Mentos.

Lan struggled to chew off a large piece of meat that tasted like pork breast. Then he quickly closed his mouth, slightly rubbed off the hard edges with his teeth, and swallowed it in one gulp.

Its not about hunger, and you dont need to remind me how much I ate during my last break. I remember it all. But my [spiritual vision] allows me to see my own bones, do you understand?

I can see that my bones are longing to grow, and the more I look, the more hungry I become. [Spiritual Vision] conveys the longing of my bones to my brain!

Lan En spoke, then he gnawed off another piece with his teeth and swallowed it into his stomach.

Strictly speaking, this situation is a good thing.

Because [Spirit Vision] not only allows Lan En to see the deeper 'world' clearly, but also allows him to see the deeper 'self' clearly.

It is easier for a person with sufficient biochemical knowledge to ensure the growth and health of his body.nove(l)bi(n.)com

Just like now, if Lan En didn't have [Spirit Vision], he would probably take care of himself according to the diet of the Space Marines in his memory after implanting [Bone Strengthening Organ].

Mentos body monitoring could only see that the bones were growing as planned, and there were no pathological changes or malnutrition.

But Mentos couldn't tell that the bones were still crying out for hunger.

The recipe that the Space Marines have used for thousands of years is certainly reliable, but for Lann, it is a bit of a "backward version".

Maybe its because of my [second heart]?

Lan discussed with the Mentos in his head.

My body temperature, as well as my metabolic rate, are much higher than that of a normal Space Marine. This should give me faster digestion and growth rates, as the original Space Marine diet cannot keep up with my consumption.

"Okay." The young man muttered in a low voice, "Anyway, we can't see those beasts here, and we can't smell the blood of those beasts, huh?!"

Just after he said, "I can't smell the stench of the beast's blood," the demon hunter's nose caught a strange smell.

Along with the strange smell, there was something walking like a shadow between the tombstones!

The combination of this scene almost caused Lan En to start suffering from PTSD!

So he made an instinctive "click" sound, and the mechanical device on his left arm armor was loaded, and he raised it and pointed it at the black figure.

The handprints of [Alder's Seal] have been made, and they are just waiting for the Chaos magic to be charged, and a supersonic projectile can fly directly through the air.

But then, the black shadow stopped while passing through.

The witcher also sniffed again, with a puzzled expression on his face.

Is this the smell of coriander?

Lan En made a confused sound.

This is the smell of coriander seeds. The stopped black figure slowly approached from behind the tombstones, maintaining a cautious and non-offensive attitude.

To be precise, there are cloves, star anise, sage, and basil in this flavor, but the coriander seed flavor is just too strong.

Just as he was talking, the black shadow had passed through the layers of fog and tombstones and came into Lan En's field of vision.

That was a middle-aged man with gray hair, an M-shaped hairline, and an aristocratic aquiline nose.

He was dressed in black, a light attire common among travelers. There were several rolled pieces of parchment sticking out of his shoulder bag, making him look like a tax collector wandering the countryside.

That strange smell came from his shoulder bag.

Lan En put down his left hand in embarrassment: "I'm sorry, sir. Your smell is a bit too strong, so I didn't tell that it was a mixture of herbs at the first time."

"No, it's nothing." The middle-aged man seemed more relaxed when he saw Lan En put down his hostility. "There's no harm in being cautious these days. And I can see it. You must have experienced something unpleasant not long ago?"

Lan En smiled and shook his head, not planning to say more.

Lane of Sintra, sir?

Emile Regis Lohorek Tajiv Godefroy, sir.

The middle-aged man said gently.

You can call me Regis.

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