Chapter 531 Lost Direction

Ron's worries seemed not unfounded. Just as they were discussing this matter, in the delusion land, on a path that no one had walked for a long time, a group of fourteen people were like ghosts, silently Moving forward.

Twelve of them all have their bodies shrouded in robes that look like black mist. There are almost no additional decorations on and inside the robes. Only by peeling away these layers of camouflage and peeking into their essence can we see these. The luxurious clothing that people hide under their robes, and the secretly customized body jewelry.

The Lord of Darkness regards moderation as the only original sin, so his followers also advocate doing whatever they want, but these believers are not like this - even in this inaccessible deep forest and swamp, they use unusually simple disguises to cover up their desires. .

This, of course, cannot be their original intention.

"The mark is already very blurry here." A believer who looked shorter and thinner stopped. The young female voice coming from under the black mist was full of confusion, confusion and fear. Emotionally, she looked at a tree next to the almost indistinguishable path. There were vague marks left by some sharp weapon on it, but due to the influence of environmental factors, the arrow that should have extended there had been erased.

"It seems that this is where Uncle Glenn and the others started to lose contact with the cult."

As the saying goes, "It's dry for a thousand years, wet for ten thousand years, half a year if it's not dry or wet." If you are exposed to this kind of poisonous miasma and monster-ridden swamp, no matter how deep the traces are, it will be difficult to survive for a long time, let alone just The scratches carved on the tree trunk with a dagger.

The female cultist looked back cringingly at the two humanoids behind her who were dressed obviously differently from them. Her lips trembled slightly as she wanted to say something but did not dare to show it. The status gap between the two parties was clear at a glance.

The two people were a man and a woman. They did not cover their faces with hoods. On top of their wide dark robes were two strangely shaped bald heads. There was no hair on them, but there were dark dragon-shaped tattoos on them. , the tattooed front paws are spread out, and the wings are stretched out, as if it is sheltering them under its own dragon wings, and it seems to be holding their heads down, to show that life and death depend on one thought.

"try to find."

The man and woman looked at each other and spoke at the same time. The voice was hoarse and cold, and even the cultists in the abyss couldn't help but feel cold after hearing it.

"Yes, as you wish..."

The cultists bowed their heads and agreed, and then quickly dispersed around, looking for other possible clues that could lead everyone to the right path. The woman who was walking in the front was divided into a group with a short, fat and stocky male believer, and they slowly looked away from the two "heterogeneous" people. Only this time, the male cultist was in front, while his companions followed behind.

This was not an easy task, at least for them. Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye, but except for the color blocks mixed with large and small environments, they could not find anything that could be called anything. It can be called a "mark".

Not only this group, the situation of the six groups of cultists is very different.

If they were just acting on their own, there might be some interaction to liven up the atmosphere. However, due to the presence of the two "oversight workers", the ominous atmosphere in the air became even more depressing. As time went by, the big rocks gradually It hit everyone's heart and left them breathless.

"Mr. Suholu..." Finally, the female cultist had to say something. She looked up at her companions who were still searching in front of her, and then quietly glanced at the two heretics who were doing nothing but standing there. , his suppressed tone couldn't help but be filled with dissatisfaction, "I don't understand why those two 'messengers' want to look for traces of Uncle Glenn's past? We have already confirmed his current situation!"

"Why can't we just disguise ourselves as businessmen and sneak into Green Swamp Town to lurk like what the letter said?"

"Madam, your question is also my question," the pudgy cultist slowly stood up straight, but his back quickly collapsed again, "But the messengers naturally have their own considerations, maybe they suspect Gulen’s piety has led to the more prudent plan, and we should believe them..."

"Believe them?" The female cultist gritted her molar teeth, "Mr. Suholu, would you rather believe two strangers who suddenly 'appeared' than Uncle Glenn? You have known each other for decades! "

"Do you also think that he is suspected of 'apostasy'?"

"...No," Suholu was silent for a moment, "Madam, please allow me to correct you: Grant and I have been friends since we met when we were four years old. Our whole life is not a number like 'tens' or 'hundreds' Measurable.”

"But it's not important, at least not to the Lord Messenger. They think Gulen is worthy of doubt, so he can only be doubted. This matter will not be changed by our will..."

Suholu sighed: "Madam, I know that you have different feelings for Gulen, and you have had close interactions more than once. This is good, my lord will like it. But don't put yourself The Lord would not like it if he died on one person."

"From the perspective of a church member and a friend of a friend, for your sake, I advise you not to think about it any more - don't forget why we embarked on this journey."

The Dark Lord Grazite's cult is a secret community of indulgence, often using debauchery to conquer others. Their methods include coercion and blackmail, temptation addiction, and black box operations. But in any case, except for the previous situation where Ge Lan and others were "called by the Lord", they should not dip their feet into this mud and let their bodies be stained with dirty dust.

A trace of fear flashed across the eyes of the female cultist. She subconsciously looked back. The two heretics did not seem to hear their conversation. They still stood there motionless, neither mean nor impatient.

But these are all their appearances, or... when they are not sick.

When the two so-called "envoys" first appeared in the sight of their cult, it was at a gathering. The gathering of the Grazite cult was certainly not a serious occasion. It was a grand banquet held in the noble manor. In the pot formed by the clouds and rain, tender or strong muscles were cooked. The souls that fell into it screamed loudly, accompanied by impromptu curses and oaths all night long.

Until the two people appeared. (End of this chapter)