The scene could not be explained by what the priests knew, so that at first they thought it was a visual residual caused by lightning, or an imaginary scene caused by mental fatigue that was mistaken for reality, some kind of illusion that only existed in their own eyes.
Not many people are more familiar with the power of sharp weapons than they are.
A skilled swordsman can easily open a hole in his opponent's body, or even stab him through. It is completely different to be able to split a heterogeneous object supported by bones and reinforced by tough tissue into two.
To complete this process smoothly requires more than just strength, but also an unimaginably sharp weapon.
Not to mention that there is a set of breastplates hidden under the target's robe, forged in one piece.
The rain seeped into the lining along the collar, and a dampness crawled up my spine.
The pale light hidden in the lightning disappeared and lasted only for a moment that was hard to notice. The tall grass kept dancing and swaying wildly, making it difficult to tell whether anything was passing through it.
"There... there's something on the right front!" Kraft tried to point out his discovery to others, but was unable to describe the exact location due to the lack of reference objects.
At the same time as he spoke, he realized the danger of his behavior, and immediately lowered his body and lay on the horse's back. Something quickly passed by with a low-pitched roar, disappearing into the dark night.
In the sound of rain, compared to the death that attracted everyone and the rolling thunder that followed, these hidden murderous intentions did not receive the attention they deserved.
He threw the lantern in the direction where the light went out, "Over there! Be careful they have arrows!"
The monks had already reacted, bypassing the possible threats in front of the road, and moved separately towards the direction pointed out by the wasted light.
The monk at the end of the team quickly moved closer to Kraft and protected him in the middle.
However, the target of protection did not want their protection. Instead, he chose to ride his horse into the tall grass and run in an arc towards the direction from which the arrow flew.
No matter what the relationship between that light and the unknown smooth cutting was, he didn't want to fight with someone who didn't know the details when someone was targeting him. A stray arrow from the dark may be more dangerous than an alerting mutation.
While moving, two more things flew past, but they were not heading towards him, but towards the target with the lantern still on.
The sound of horses neighing passed through the rain curtain, and someone's body fell to the ground and rolled into the grass, making a pained groan like mud bubbling, hoping that the horse did not crush his leg bone.
The concealment effect of the rainy night was two-way. Turning off the lights temporarily erased Kraft's direction of action from the opponent's field of vision, and the second shot made the shooter's position more precise in perception.
He felt that he captured the vibrato that was cut by the heavy water curtain, which was the slight vibration of the bowstring that had released its stored energy.
Accordingly, the direction was adjusted again, and the steady horse galloped toward a place beyond sight according to the owner's request.
With night vision that was better than nothing, he could vaguely determine that he was going in the right direction and what was in the undulating grass.
The rider corrected his direction one last time, raised his sword flat to one side, and began to accelerate.
The wet wind howled along with the raindrops, and the ground was muddy and damp, weakening the movement of one person and one horse to the greatest extent. There was only the twisting and twisting of the grass blades, and there was no difference between them and the chaotic sounds around them.
Then there was a slurping sound as mush was lifted from the ground and tossed.
It wasn't until the sound of hoofs breaking through puddles came into their attention that they realized that the heavy creature on all fours was approaching, and they hesitated whether to avoid it or continue to complete the half-stretched winding.
But it was too late, the sword was tilted down, and the light touch hit it like raindrops, which were flying over the broken grass tips.
He encountered a little resistance. Thanks to the accumulated speed, the blade easily overcame this resistance and pushed forward unstoppably. It hit something hard and carved a deep defect before deflecting slightly.
Just for a moment, the resistance disappeared. It seemed that a liquid thicker than rain erupted and splashed, mistakenly poured into the gas pipe, and the two mixed together to create a dense and sticky foam.
No more voices, there will be no more voices.
The rider took advantage of the situation and opened the distance, turned the horse's head, accelerated again without any other thought, raised the sword flat, and recalled the practice of sprinting back and forth in the castle courtyard, where the horse, man and sword passed by the same position.
The guess was correct, there was more than one person there.
Another flash of lightning provided a brief look at each other. The other person should have been wearing a mask, but it had been completely soaked by the rain and fell to his chin, revealing a blank and pale face that looked like it had not seen the sun for a long time.
The electric light disappeared, and the vision after experiencing the flash became even darker. I only felt a slight pause on my hand, the viscous liquid was left behind, and the rain washed away the part left on the spine of the sword.
After sprinting for a while, Kraft belatedly realized what he had done besides repeating two sprints.
It may have been the first time he faced a "person" in the real sense just now. It was incredibly relaxed. He had not even had any real feelings yet and was constantly turning to the main battlefield.
So far, there are only sparse sounds of metal clashing coming from there, indicating that only a small-scale close combat took place and it ended quickly. The horse lights representing the monks moved at high speed, appearing and disappearing, drawing flashing dotted lines in the rain.
It looked like they were still looking for the culprit who killed their companions, but the tall grass on a rainy day wasn't the right place to look for anything.
Kraft rushed that way. He saw that light again, that extremely empty, bleak light. Take an excerpt from a celestial body and graft it into a place where it does not belong.
The nearest marquee lantern suddenly dropped and sank into the waves of tall grass. This time, as expected, some more secretive auras were detected. The neat paper was forcibly torn open by some force, a narrow crack separated the things.
Whether it is mane, bones, or armor that can withstand powerful crossbows, there is no difference at all to it - they are all images on paper.
Like a scar on a living organism, it lasted only a short time, but long enough for an entire team to pass through. It gradually healed and erased, hiding another layer behind it that was similar but not entirely overlapping.
"Turn out the lights!"
That thing is not a sword or flying arrow, it does not follow ordinary logic, and it has no trajectory. Continuing to keep the light source is just setting up a target for the opponent.
And two reminders finally got attention, and that's not a good thing.
The gap that separated the present world has not yet been completely closed. Kraft clearly felt that a trace of unabated malice bloomed in front of him, accompanied by unbearable cries of pain. It seemed that this scar first acted on the canvas before tearing it apart. The creator himself.
Perhaps the direction of the sound exposure was too accurate. This time, the sense of crisis was unprecedentedly close, reaching an inevitable distance.
Kraft subconsciously tried to rein in his horse, and almost at the same time realized that it was useless. The galloping horse could not be stopped immediately, and the consequences of the two precedents were still vivid in his mind.
"Damn it!"
He let go of the reins and made a very standard illegal action, turning sideways.
The curled up body left the saddle, and the straw cushion cushioned part of the damage. The rolling made the process of unloading the force longer, but the remaining force still made people feel that there was no pain anywhere inside and outside the body.
The scrapes and scratches burned the exposed skin, the shock vibrated in the chest and abdomen, and the ligaments pulled tightly against the organs.
However, his well-protected mind was still clear, and he ordered his body to regain control as quickly as possible, tearing off the heavy and wet cloak.
Not far away, there was the sound of a horse falling out of balance. The rain was joined by the warm liquid sprayed out. The high pressure created by the strong heart was pumped into the air from the stump of the interrupted large blood vessel.
".I think the Xiguo family should not accept the partial return."
He staggered up from the muddy water with his sword in hand, and his clothes became extremely heavy. Kraft was sure that he now looked like he had just been fished out of the curry pot.
He could also tell the direction in which the light last appeared, and he grasped the hilt of the sword and leaned forward to get closer.
With the strange light and sound, some monks also noticed this. They turned off the lanterns, and the chaotic sound of treading water was approaching. Everyone was groping in the darkness and chaos, and the situation was chaotic.
There was still the metallic tremble of weapons clashing in the distance, and there were many attackers.
But the rest are just insurance to make up for when there are deficiencies. There is always only one who plays a key role. The threat that almost ruins the entire team is not far away.
The guy was not very professional. As he slowly approached, Kraft heard erratic gasps of pain, and signs of movement from more than one person, who were very close to each other.
"Here!" A monk discovered something first and called his companions, but then there was silence.
The light disappeared in a flash and was much smaller than before. A costly guide. Kraft took advantage of the opportunity he was presented with and chased the goal.
When he was close enough to hear his breathing clearly, he suddenly charged forward with all his strength, and then stopped in two or three steps.
Sure enough, that pale and misty light lit up in front. This time Kraft saw how it emerged.
It was a dark, almost colorless stone-like object, stripped off from a complete geometric body. At this moment, it was passively stimulated through some means, and briefly "ignited" the light that illuminated another world.
The way the light is radiated is like destroying the spinal cord on the dissecting table and peeling off clean toad limbs, and connecting the contraction response during electrical stimulation.
The "electrode" connected to it is a skinny palm. The fingers are so slender and pale that they cause discomfort, they are half longer than the average person. There are dark veins with obvious contrast running under the skin.
[Someone should really teach them that fighting is not a fight]
The early deceleration left Kraft with room to dodge. He leaned around the invisible blade, slammed into the opponent's upper abdomen and diaphragm with his elbow, grabbed the wrist of the hand and twisted it outside the angle of movement.
Better catch this guy if you can.
It turns out that the opponent's pain tolerance is quite good, and in this case, he can still try to fight back with his remaining hand.
He grabbed the waving arm by feel, then let go and flinched as if he was electrocuted.
A whip-like attack passed by.
Just a second ago, he felt movements that were not part of normal bone and joints and were indescribably flexible.