Chapter 8 Chapter 6 Ambush

"It's the catalyst saint! I told you, the old man will find him!" Saryon caught a vague movement out of the corner of his eye when he heard this.He heard Mosiah yell, then Simkin screaming, "Let go of me, you big hairy monster!" All that followed was a frantic, futile struggle and grunts. "Do what you hear, so you don't get hurt." One hand grabbed Saryon's wrist and folded over his back.Pain blazed from his elbow to his shoulder.Saryon was breathless, but he was shocked to find that he was more angry than scared, perhaps because he sensed the fear of his captor.He could hear fear in the harsh heavy breathing and hoarse shouts, he could smell the fear, some stench, mixed with sweat, and the black lock swallowed it from the wine bag false courage.

The attacks came quickly and suddenly, and the sorcerer's minions might not be bright enough in many ways, but they were skilled and knowledgeable in their craft.They had been sent to take the Catalyst Saint, and seeing Anton in the cell, they assumed the old man would deliver Saryon to them without knowing it.The sorcerer's men sneaked into a dark alley and waited for the party to pass, so the battle was actually over before it even started. Joram was held back by a burly man, unable to reach his sword.Mosiah fell to the street, blood streaming from a wound on his head, a boot firmly on the back of his neck.The guards pushed Anton aside, and the old man lay on the street like an abandoned doll, on his back, blinking dizzily.Someone caught Saryon, pinning his arms behind his back.As for Simkin, he disappeared completely, and the guard who jumped at the laughing figure stood there, staring at his empty hands in disbelief.

One of the bandits was clearly the leader, and he glanced across the battlefield to make sure that all his targets had been taken down.Then, contentedly, he stood before Saryon. "Catalyst saint, give me the power of life!" he ordered, trying to imitate the ruthless threat of the dead black lock. But these people are just ordinary outlaws, not well-trained Duke Xisi.Saryon found the chief's eyes nervously moving between himself and the empty street, and glancing in the direction of the furnace.The yelling and shouting indicated that something had happened there, and the demon craftsmen planned to resist by force.Saryon shook his head in refusal, and the bandit lost control on the spot.

"Damn it, Catalyst Saints, do it right now!" he yelled, his voice almost broken. "Break his arm!" he ordered to his captors. "Emin's blood! Saint, don't be a fool!" said Joram. "Follow it and give him the power of life." Saryon's captor seized his arm with practice and twisted it, and the Catalyst Saint bit his lip to keep himself from screaming in pain, and he glanced at Joram in amazement, only to see his eyes darting to Mosiah, Don't mean it. "Yes, Father," Mosiah murmured, his face buried in the mud and dirt of the street by the guard's feet, and although he couldn't see Joram at all, he understood the subtle accent in the words. "Do as they say, bestow the power of life!"

Concentrating desperately, Saryon began to repeat the prayer to draw mana from the world, drawing it to himself.Fortunately it was a prayer he had learned since childhood, so there was no need to think about it, but even if his confused mind could do the calculations, there was no time to worry about the amount of life force that could be safely provided to the young man.He opened the transmission channel fully, letting the life force flow to Mosiah without sparing.This could drain the power of the Catalyst Saints, but they have no choice, they only have one chance, only one.If you fail this time, it doesn't matter anyway.I was also surprised by the calm thought of the catalyst saints. The rage and panic will make the people of Heizuo kill us all.

Mana answered his prayer and flowed into the catalyst saint's body.For a moment, the holiness of being one with the world gave Saryon an almost sublime pleasure.Blacklock had deprived that feeling, when he bestowed the life force on the sorcerer - Blacklock had used the lifeforce to cause death, and Saryon had hated the tingling in the blood, through every nerve trembling.He's too eager now, too eager to fight back against these murderers, to notice those feelings, but he does enjoy having magic inside him again, even if he has to release it soon.Filled with life force within him, Saryon opened the channel towards Mosiah.

The magic power jumped from the catalyst saint to the young man like a blue electric light. This is the scene that the catalyst saint fully dedicated his power to the mage.The magic power tore through the air, and the thug who was holding Saryon was startled and loosened his hand, but at this moment, the leader knew that he had been deceived, and the cold light of the blade lit up in the afternoon sun. Saryon raised his hand unconsciously, trying to block the blow, but heard a ferocious growl.The man holding Saryon yelled for warning, and the leader turned around sharply with the knife in hand.Mosiah was standing in front of him, but the young man who had been indifferent to the world had obviously changed his appearance.His whole body was covered with fur, his teeth turned into sharp teeth, his hands turned into palms, and his fingertips turned into claws.The werewolf leaped forward and knocked the leader to the ground.The knife flew out of his limp hand, and then screams pierced through the air, and finally stopped abruptly with a terrifying shattering sound.

The werewolf turned and stared at Saryon with fiery red eyes, causing the Catalyst Saint to back away, his soul cowering in primal terror.Blood and foam dripped from between the werewolf's teeth, and his thick chest was shaken by rumbling roars, but those wolf eyes were not fixed on Saryon, but on the guard huddled behind the Catalyst Saint, how pitiful he was. And despicably intends to use the physical body of the catalyst saint as a shield.The hand behind Saryon pushed hard, throwing him into the beast's teeth, but the werewolf stepped aside lightly.The Catalyst Saint fell hard on his hands and feet.The werewolf passed over his head, and then Saryon heard the bandit's shrill wail, and a wild howl of triumph.

Dizzy, hurt and exhausted, Saryon watched the furious battle around him like a dream, but he was powerless to respond.He saw Joram kick the dagger away from his captor, turn around clumsily and punch the fellow.The fist missed, but the gangster punched Joram on the jaw.Joram staggered back, fumbling for his sword.The guard rushed at Joram in pursuit, when a broom appeared out of nowhere and lashed at him. "Take it, fool!" shrieked the broom, and swung at the petrified man from all sides, hitting him on the head and back.It rushed between his legs, tripping him on his back.The man was already lying on the street with his head in his hands, but the broom refused to let him go, calling "Idiot" every time he hit him.

The Catalyst Saints were dazed to see their assailants fleeing in all directions.He tried to stand up, but found that there was a ringing in his ears, and he felt sick and powerless.A pair of strong hands helped him up, and the movements were surprisingly gentle.Although the words he heard were as indifferent as ever, he felt an underlying concern that surprised him. "Are you OK?" The Catalyst Saint was powerless, looking at Joram's face dazedly.Judging from the tone of voice, he had no way of knowing what he could expect to see.The person in front of him may be flesh and blood, but what he sees is a hard rock.

"Are you all right, Catalyst Saint?" the young man asked again coldly. "Can you walk, or do we have to carry you?" Saryon sighed. "It's okay, I can walk." He said as he calmly pushed the young man away. "Okay," said Joram. "Go see the old man." He pointed to Anton, who was looking around sadly.Three thugs fell on the street, and the rest left their fallen accomplices and ran.Two of the guards were dead, covered in claw marks and their necks had been bitten off by werewolves.Saryon was stunned to find no regret, just a cruel sense of satisfaction. A third fell a little further away, still alive, groaning, with bright red welts all over his face.The broomstick whipped his clothes like spindly feathers, and Simkin stood condescendingly beside him. "Stupid," he muttered, kicking again. The minion wailed and put his arms around his head.Xin Jin snorted coldly, and took out an orange silk scarf from mid-air and wiped his forehead. "Nasty fights," he said. "I'm sweating." "It's you!" Mosiah had turned back into a human form and sat on the threshold, and he was panting from exhaustion as a result of his transformation into a werewolf.The wound on his head was still bleeding, his face was covered with dust, dirt and sweat, and his clothes were torn.He leaned tiredly against the door, struggling to catch his breath. "I've... never... experienced magic like this before!" he gasped.Then he closed his eyes and rested his head on his hand. "I'm so... dizzy..." "It's over soon," Saryon said softly. "I didn't know you were such a strong mage before." After the catalyst saint finished speaking, he went to appease the distraught Anton, talking all the comforting empty words he could think of. "I don't know either," Mosiah said with a sense of awe. "I... I didn't even think about it. It's just—Sinkin said about the big hairy monster, and then I had that image in my head, and then I was filled with magic! It was like all the life force around me went to I poured in, rushed through me, I felt a hundred times alive! I—” "Oh, hell!" interrupted Joram impatiently. "Stop talking! We have to find a way to get out of this ghost place!" Mosiah suddenly fell silent, swallowed the words he hadn't spoken, and stood up without saying a word, his eyes gleaming with anger.Anton stared at Joram in surprise.Simkin began humming uneasily a ditty.Only Saryon understood why.He, too, felt the fangs of jealousy biting himself; he, too, knew what it was like to be jealous of those who had the gift of life force. No one spoke, everyone just looked at each other anxiously, no one seemed to know what to do next, everything was so unreal, like a dream.The sun fell with flames, red long fingers pierced through the streets, and the flames blazed on the window glass of the simple brick house.The firelight faded from the glassy eyes of the dead man.In the forge the flames shone brightly, on the blades of spears, on the arrowheads of daggers.Farther away, from the center of the village, the cries grew louder. "Joran's right," Saryon said finally, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that "one is here and one's heart is elsewhere." "The sun is going down, we have to leave before dark." "Leave?" An Dun came back to his senses and stared at the catalyst saints in a panic. "But you can't go, Father! Listen!" The mild, wrinkled face was contorted with fear. "Our quiet life is over! They—" At this moment, a gong sounded, eager and violent. "Sionc!" Anton yelled, his face contorted with grief. The gong rang nine times, and the sound shook the body and mind.Saryon felt tremors coming from his feet, and wondered if it was anger that made the ground tremble. "The war has begun." Joram said in a deep voice. "Which way, Simkin?" "This way, walk along the alley." Xin Jin pointed to the road, his usual frivolous appearance disappeared together with the orange silk scarf, and he ran away. "Go! We'd better follow!" Joram urged. "We'll lose him." "If you're lucky," Mosiah grumbled.He hastily shook hands with the old man. "Goodbye, Anton, thank you." "Yes, thank you," said Joram simply, looking gloomily at the furnace.The sounds of fighting grew louder and closer.Joram took one last look, and ran down the alley with Mosiah.Simkin's figure was barely discernible in the twilight, save for the feathers on his hat that waved in the air like a banner as he was about to turn the corner. "Quick, Saryon!" "Okay, come right away, I will follow." The catalyst saint said, running reluctantly, for fear of being alone.Anton seemed to understand something he felt. The old man smiled sadly. "I know why you're leaving, and I think I should thank you for taking the Dark Stone away from us, at least we won't be tempted again." He sighed. "But I'm sorry to see you go. Emin is with you, Father," he said softly. Saryon wanted to respond with a blessing, but the words couldn't come out.It is said that in ancient times, those who sold their souls to dark forces could not speak the name of the gods. "Catalyst saint!" Joram shouted angrily from afar. Saryon turned and left without a word.As dusk surrounded them, he looked back from the shadows of the alley and saw Anton standing beside the corpses of the guards in the street, head and shoulders bowed.The old witchcrafter covered his eyes with his hands, and the Catalyst Saints knew he was weeping.