Chapter 184: All kinds of martial arts, this is the Musketeers! (2/3)

  Chapter 184 All kinds of martial arts, this is the Musketeers! (twenty three)

  The vast forest to the west of Port Harrison is where the Sequoia natives once lived.

  In those days, the aborigines were all over every corner of the forest, and there were thousands of different kinds of miasma and poisonous insects hidden in the seemingly harmless forest.

  So Viscount Grant chose to bombard.

No matter how much money is spent and what price is paid, Viscount Grant will definitely use ordinary gunpowder cannons to plow the land once, and then use alchemy cannons to strike several times before sending out the guards. For the frontier immigration area with a supplementary population, people are far more important than money.

   Over the past few decades, the jungle west of Port Harrison is basically full of new crops of trees, and all the ancient miasma and Gu insects have been swept away.

  When the aboriginals were defeated six years ago and their sphere of influence shrank greatly, this forest area that had been raided many times but had not yet been fully included in the sphere of influence of Port Harrison was called the 'inner field'.

  The aborigines have withdrawn, but there are still many forest areas where miasma and poisonous insects remain, which is called the "outer field".

Ian often goes hunting in the field. The prey ranges from wild boars, deer, rabbits, squirrels to small four-legged beasts whose heads are like bats. Basically, he has caught everything, even Mosquitoes are not spared.

   These are all to enrich the database of silver chips.

   Yes, enrich the database.

  Ian discovered that the silver chip does not recognize all kinds of creatures. Its so-called identification actually relies on Ian's sensory organs to observe, extract knowledge from its database for analysis and analysis, and then come up with results.

Thinking about it carefully, the age of this chip is at least 1,600 years. It has witnessed the collapse of the new moon. All kinds of animals, plants and insects are recorded.

  The more the silver chip is identified, the richer its information is, and the more effective the information it gives is.

   But the more this is the case, the more Ian feels that this thing should be less likely to be a creation of pre-epoch civilization.

  Its functions are too powerful, and it is definitely not something that can be produced by partial science... So far, all the creations of pre-epoch civilizations that Ian has seen do not match its style of painting.

   But Ian doesn't care too much about these things.

  In the final analysis, use good things when you need them, and you don’t need to think too much about their origins.

  Sequoia Grove, outfield.

  Hanging the high-pressure water gun on his waist, and casually holding a two-taler fine iron long sword from the blacksmith, Ian walked in the impenetrable woodland of the outfield, looking around, looking for traces of prey.

  He came to hunt.

Most of the beasts in the infield are small roe, rabbits, birds and rodents whose specific names are not known. If you catch them, you can fill your stomach, but if you want to really get a big harvest, you have to go to the outfield without being destroyed. search in the ecosystem.

  Ian is now, deep in the outfield.

A thick layer of mist hangs in the forest, like a slightly dirty veil, and some dark trees hidden under the miasma can be vaguely seen, as well as some mist-stalking spiders whose veins cannot be seen at all in the mist. spider web.

The Mist Steering Spider is a giant spider that is highly poisonous and has the potential to become a monster. It is generally the size of a human head. The venom is corrosive. The spider web is not strong, but it is very viscous. If you are not careful, it will make people move. Imbalanced, rolled in the dense forest, and then wrapped in more spider webs, resulting in subsequent spider bite poisoning.

  Warcraft-level fog-stalking spiders go one step further, and they are rotting shadow spiders that used to inhabit the depths of the aboriginal holy land "Miasty Mountain Forest". Therefore, their materials are also quite valuable, whether it is potions, poisons, or alchemy potions.

   But Ian wasn't targeting them.

   "Sure enough, as soon as I left the city, there were native spies following me."

  At this moment, Ian, who had activated the vision vision and the silver chip, had a panoramic view of all the creatures in the miasma—even those spiders and natives who were constantly moving, he couldn't see them more clearly than he did.

  Ever since Ian left the city, he noticed that a group of natives found him, and then several people turned back immediately and reported the news to the lair.

   It was obvious that the natives had plans against Ian, but he was a little confused as to why.

   "Could it be that Patrick is looking for trouble again? If so, their actions are too fast—and they can cooperate so quickly, which is enough to prove that the natives also hate me."

Regarding this point, Ian is not surprised at all. After all, he was the one who defeated the swamp crocodile and made the great shaman's invasion plan fall short... Viscount Grant can deceive ordinary people, but as a person who experienced the battlefield at that time, the great shaman It was absolutely clear who his real enemy was.

   Moreover, for the natives, a mere 'wavesonger' like himself is really an easy target to kill.

  Ian looked at them as well.

   "After shopping for so long, no matter how free the aborigines are, it's time to arrive now."

  As Ian thought, soon, batches of crimson light and shadow flooded into the vision of the foresight.

  Furthermore, Fog Light and Shadow carried an artifact that could give Ian a 'sense of danger'.

  The boy stopped and stood on the rotten tree roots in a clearing in the misty forest.

   And there are more and more indigenous hunters gradually surrounding them.

  For a while, the entire outfield fog forest fell into a strange silence, only the noise made by the wind blowing through the forests and shaking the branches and leaves was the only sound in this strange environment.

  —Everyone is almost here.

   After confirming this, Ian nodded slightly, and he took a step forward.

   "Spread out."

  He uttered the words, the source quality was activated, and the surrounding mist and miasma were immediately dispersed by the vibration, and all the liquid dispersed and subsided according to the young man's voice.

  —The power of the Wavesinger, who can control the flow of water with his voice...but only when propelling the boat does he need to sing continuously.

  Usually, only a few words of sound waves are enough to accomplish many things.

  With Ian's clear drink, the water mist subsided, and the fog in the forest faded visibly with the naked eye, and many aborigines hiding around Ian, as well as the mist-stalking spiders they cultivated, all appeared as the mist dissipated.

  They didn't panic because of the loss of concealment. Everyone looked at Ian with hatred, even almost fanatical determination.

   And when they manifested, Ian couldn't help being surprised.

"Grass."

Opening his eyes wide, Ian saw rows of obviously well-made firecrackers in the other party's hands, even alchemy firecrackers, and couldn't help feeling a kind of unbelievable absurdity: "Aborigines also use firearms?! It's still such a sophisticated active-duty alchemist." firearm!"

   "Also, it's not Imperial...it's a brand new style that I haven't seen before!"

   Now Ian found out what could cause a life-threatening crisis to his defenseless self... But one question was answered, and one or more new questions appeared.

  Where did these firearms come from? When did the natives get them?

as well as…

   "These firearms are much newer than those in Port Harrison. They seem to be in the style of flamethrowers—worthy of research."

  Silver blue halos lit up in both eyes, and Ian, who originally planned to lure the snake out of the hole to see the situation, was completely motivated now.

  The firearm that the native aimed at him seemed to be materialized, so that the young man could clearly feel that the other party had aimed at his forehead, heart, arms, shoulders and legs, without any dead ends.

  —These people are the best hunters, and with the natural abilities of the people of Terra, they can quickly transform into the best gunners.

  So Ian held the sword in his right hand, clasped his left hand on the high-pressure water gun at his waist, and looked at the natives whose hands were on the trigger with burning eyes.

  The next moment, the natives pulled the trigger.

  And Ian's figure disappeared in place.

  (end of this chapter)