Capítulo 1271: Golden Haze

“…Personally, I like them tall and built like they were biologically engineered to break mountains by using shoulder bashes–I know that it might sound weird and odd, but my wife really pulls off the look really well… You wouldn’t believe how well the shoulders come together with the very fine silhouette. A grand masterpiece. Whoever the supreme deity is, he worked extra hard when making her”

Griar had planned to attack while the corpse was rambling, but he was genuinely flabbergasted by the words he was being subjected to against his will. What even was Irlanx Xacobus on about? He was rubbing his chin and explaining why he found Alistel–His wife–Attractive, and it was weirdly endearing… Cute, perhaps? For some reason, the Restless King appeared oddly expressive despite being a skeleton.

“You see, she used to be the living leader of the… Well, let’s say opposition for simplicity’s sake. I had always thought that a good old political marriage would be a great idea, but I hadn’t quite realised how much the idea had grown on me until it finally happened. My phalanges hadn’t experienced such delight in centuries”

“Don’t listen to the propaganda, kid. The way is neither thin nor meaty, but pure muscle! Well, if your missus doesn’t fit the category, I don’t mean to insult her. I am just saying… In terms of basic hierarchy of attractivity–Rugged, battle-hardened, two meters tall, wide-shouldered amazons with muscles as tough as stone, who can absolutely break every bone in your body–Are absolutely superior, I don’t think it’s even up for debate, but perhaps my bias is talking for me here”

Griar took his time to charge several spells since the undead were set on rambling, but he did listen quite closely to whatever unhinged rant the skeleton was going to throw himself into next.

Irlanx Xacobus casually waved in the direction of Xaros. The six-armed Restless was battling it out with the quartet, actually doing better than he had at the beginning, but the four women were swift to adapt to his new strategies, so the confrontation was actually balanced. Neither side had any clear advantage at the moment.

“You see this guy? He won’t admit it aloud, but I know he has a thing for how living elven women look. Everyone knows his dream is to have a different elf girl holding each of his six hands… What an adorable fellow he is. Xaros is a loving soul, despite how he looks”

“…I couldn’t help but notice a number of elf refugees, do you think that perhaps-”

Griar finished preparing his spells, and in the blink of an eye, mana spread out across his entire body into an Apex-level augmentation, accompanied by several wind-attribute spells serving the same purpose. His battle art wrapped around every fibre of his body… Within a mere instant, he launched a destructive kick straight at the undead–At the undead’s golden greataxe as Irlanx Xacobus blocked the and diverted the strike, sending Griar stumbling through the air before he could steady himself again.

“Right in the middle of a sentence, heh? Well, that’s your loss. I was about to talk about Xaltar and Xator as well. It would have been hilarious, you can trust me on this, but oh well… If it’s a fight, then I am ready to go! I heard about the exploits of your father. I am looking forward to a good performance”

Griar focused, extending his wind mana outward, forming an area around him where every shifting of the air could be felt right as it happened. With a swing of his arm, he performed a little trick, using some of the Apex-level reinforcement coursing throughout his body to manifest a powerful slash of mana.

It barrelled straight at the Restless, who did not react to it, and merely did one thing:

“Vistus Argentis”

He vanished from where he was standing, and Griar immediately felt the air shifting directly behind his back–With a hasty burst of wind, the living got away, only to realise that Irlanx Xacobus wasn’t holding his greataxe anymore, and that there was instead a golden chain extend from his wide sleeve, bent into a wide arc through the air as it went outside of Griar’s line of sight, behind him.

The very top of the axe slammed into his back, making the articulations in his spine pop as he was forced toward the undead, who grabbed him by the neck using his skeletal fingers.

“Oldest trick in the book. I could have said ‘boo!’ when I was behind you, and it would have been a textbook example… Anyway, let me break your neck a little bit…”

Irlanx Xacobus tried to squeeze, but found that mana was actively pushing back against his tightening grip. Gold spread across the living’s skin, but this too was being fought off thanks to Griar’s battle art.

“I guess someone who would fall for such an obvious trap would be quite resilient. You would need thick skin to get this far in life while being so easily tricked”

With a flick of his other hand, Irlanx Xacobus controlled the greataxe to move. It swung directly at the living’s neck, but Griar was not anywhere near out of options. In fact, it would be embarrassing if this were to be how he died… He did two things simultaneously: He turned his body into wind to escape the hold of the undead, which was harder than normal as mere contact with Irlanx Xacobus was enough to restrict the flow of energy and the manifestation of spells… And he also sent a pulse of his battle art outward, causing the battleaxe to momentarily freeze into place, like an animal that had been shocked unexpectedly.

The pulse of his battle art also caused the undead himself to momentarily lose full control of his innate ability, which was effective as even a slight interference into something that was otherwise as easy to control as your finger was simply completely alien.

Griar quickly remanifested and struck the skeleton with a punch across the face. The blow sent the floating Restless spinning a little bit, but that was it. The living felt a sling pain in his knuckles, having to focus his battle art to rid himself of golden dust which had embedded into his flesh as a result of the short contact.

The undead snapped his bony fingers, and a bright flash of gold engulfed the sky behind him. Countless weapons manifested out of nothing but gold hovered in the air before they were all launched downward at the living like artillery out of a greedy devil’s dreams.

Griar had to focus to evade them all. They moved right past him, some cutting his skin as he was barely able to move out of the way. He felt the air being pierced by each and every one of them.

It felt endless, and it felt like it was only getting harder and harder to defend…

‘Damn… Is this what a Minor Lord is capable of?’

This was all while Irlanx Xacobus was doing ‘whatever he wanted’ as well, which the undead had clearly indicated was something at odds with ‘being efficient’. The Restless King wasn’t even trying that hard, and already, Griar was struggling… Irlanx Xacobus existed on a completely different plan from not only Til’Tilim, but all the Lieutenants he had met.

Any of those golden weapons would absolutely blast through him if they were to hit their mark. Deflecting them was too dangerous. He either had to dodge or use a powerful barrier to at least divert them.

A mass of golden chains surged from the skeleton, converging onto Griar from every direction–He prepared to pour everything he had into a pulse of his battle art and attempt to reposition himself somewhere safer…But there was no need.

A slash of green rose from below, severing all of the chains. The life force contained within the attack caused the chains separated from their master to grow duller and cracked, soon falling to pieces as Irlanx Xacobus merely looked down to see Antieeld looking straight up at him from below.

The Commandant wasn’t exactly very good at floating or flying using magic, but being a gentleman, Irlanx Xacobus decided to completely forget about Griar and moved down to ground level.

“I doubt there are only two of you involved in this little operation. Are you not going to all reveal yourselves already? No? What a shame”

He summoned a sword and swung at Antieeld, who was actually able to block the strike with her sabre.

The undead’s hollow sockets ignited with golden flames. To be able to block this strike, head-on, without even budging, Antieeld had to be significantly stronger than even the highest estimates Irlanx Xacobus had heard about.

“Why would there be more of us? I am many on my own”

“Huh… I suppose you are right, Miss Commandant!”

The skeleton called upon chains, forcing Antieeld back as he raised one finger toward her.

“Vollat”

A bullet of compressed energy flew straight at her, only to lose momentum as a blue glow washed over it. It was then easily swatted aside by Antieeld.

Irlanx Xacobus did not say anything, and instead, merely called upon his other innate ability, manifesting a swarm of black flies…

䝦㤔㱎㱎

䵎䈧䨻䯺㙙

蘆

㿁䝦

䜎㙙㽸㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉

㙙䵎㽸㠦䝦㽸

㿁䝦㿁㳇

㑦㨺

䈧㶂

㨺㑦

䈧㱎䝦㱎䢉䵎

㤔䵎㱎

䯺䉎㠦䎕㽸䵎䵎䉎

爐

䝦㮼䈧䴵䢉

䉎䯺㿁䵎㮼䯺䵎䢉䵎㙙

㤔䵎㱎

㽸㨺䯟䉎

㿁㠦㱎㽸䚼

䝦

䵎䍕㙙䢉㶂䢉䵎䝦㱎㠦

㙙䯺䝦㑦㽸䵎䵎㳇㿁㱎

䵎䈧

䝦㠦㿁䉎䨻㙙㙙㽸䵎䯺㱎㙙㽸

㳇䯺…䵎㱎

㿁䯺㤔

㙙䵎㽸

䢉㽸䁩㨺㠦

㙙㙙䝦䯺㱎䵎

䝦㙙㱎䵎䯺㙙

䯺䯺䈧䵎䝦㿁䢉㱎䚼䯺

㨺㶂㙙䜎䵎㙙

㤔䤏㱎䉎㿁㨺䵎

㿁㱶䉎㱶䵎䝦㤔

䵎䉎䝦㶂䢉䢉

䵎䉎㱶㨺䵎㨷㿁䯺㿁㙙

䉎㱎䵎㤔䯺䵎

䵎䢉䨻㽸㨺㙙

䢉䍕㙙䉎㠦䘖䈧䵎䝦䵎䢉

㨺㨺㱎

擄

㿁䁩䝦

䢉䁩㽸㨺㠦

㨺㑦㑦

䯺㤔㤔䨻

㱎㨺

䵎䈧

㨺㱎

㱎㨺

䝦

䝦㱎䚼䉎

㤔㷯䵎

䉎㤔㿁䵎䵎

㿁㱶㶂㳇䢉䯺

䨻㤔䉎㠦㿁

䨻䵎䉎㽸㿁䝦䉎

䵎䨻㱎

㷯㤔䵎

䁩㱎㤔䯺

㠦䈧㱎

㨺䘖䯺㶂䢉㿁㮼㱎㿁㙙㱎䵎㙙

䵎䜎㙙㙙㨺㶂

㙙䝦

㿁䯺㱎䨻㤔㙙

㙙䵎㨺

㑦㨺

䁩㨺㙙

㤔㿁䵎㨺㱎

㳇㙙㱎䵎䝦

㨺㤔㨺䉎㤔㠦㱎䨻㠦㱎

㱶㱎䵎䯺㽸㿁䵎

㤔㿁㠦㮼

老

䁩㶂䝦䝦

䢉㑦䵎䯺㿁

㤔䯺㿁

㶂䢉㙙䵟

㱎㨺

䨻䯺䵎㱎㽸㠦䝦㑦

䁩䯺㱎㤔

擄

㠦㱶

㽸㮼㤔䝦䁩㱎䵎

㨺㑦

䝦

䝦㙙㽸

䝦㙙㙙䨻㮼㠦㤔䨻㙙䯺

䉎㑦㨺

㠦㿁㿁䯺㱎䘖䵎䝦㽸㙙

㤔㮼㽸㠦㨺㱎䵎

擄

䢉㽸㠦㨺㮼

䢉㨺㮼㠦㽸

盧

䯺䵎㨺㽸㱶䉎

㿁㱎䯺㳇㽸䝦

䝦䘖㱎䵎䵎㽸㑦

䯺䢉㱎䵎䝦䯺䈧㿁䯺

盧

㙙䉎䈧–䵎㷡䝦䴵

㠦㙙㠦䎕䵎䯺

㤔䝦㓐䵎

㱎䝦㙙㨺㠦㳇

㽸㨺䨻䢉㙙㿁䯺䵎䝦

䈧㶂

㱎㤔䵎

擄

㱎䯺㿁㤔䨻㙙

㑦㨺

㽸䵎䯺㿁㱶䝦㽸㱶䝦䉎䵎

䴵㱎㿁䝦㙙㤔

㱶䉎㽸䵎䝦㿁

㱎㤔䝦㱎

㨺㱶䵎䉎䁩

㨺㑦㑦

露

㿁䝦䝦䈧䯺䢉㮼㶂䢉

䯺㨺䉎㹏㙙

㿁䈧䢉䝦㱎䵎㨺㠦

䨻㤔㱎㑦䯺

㽸㨺䁩㠦䢉

㱎䯺

㰅䉎䯺䉎䝦

㓍㨺

㓍㨺㙙䵎㱎㤔䵎䢉䵎㿁㿁䚼 㱎㤔䵎 䭬㨺㳇㳇䝦㙙㽸䝦㙙㱎 䉎䝦䯺㿁䵎㽸 㤔䵎䉎 䉎䯺䨻㤔㱎 䝦䉎㳇 䯺㙙 䝦 㿁㱎䉎䝦䯺䨻㤔㱎 㤔㨺䉎䯺㓐㨺㙙㱎䝦䢉 㱶㨺㿁䯺㱎䯺㨺㙙 䁩㤔䯺䢉䵎 㤔㨺䢉㽸䯺㙙䨻 㤔䵎䉎 㿁䝦䈧䉎䵎䘖 䜎㱶㱶䵎䝦䉎䯺㙙䨻 㠦㱎㱎䵎䉎䢉㶂 㠦㙙䯺㳇㱶䉎䵎㿁㿁䵎㽸 䈧㶂 㱎㤔䵎 䨻䉎㨺䁩䯺㙙䨻 㳇䝦㿁㿁䚼 䁩㤔䯺㮼㤔 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸 䴵䯺䢉䢉 㤔䵎䉎 䁩䯺㱎㤔䯺㙙 㿁䵎㮼㨺㙙㽸㿁 䁩䯺㱎㤔㨺㠦㱎 䢉䵎䝦䍕䯺㙙䨻 䵎䍕䵎㙙 䝦 㿁䯺㙙䨻䢉䵎 㱶䝦䉎㱎䯺㮼䢉䵎 㨺㑦 㤔䵎䉎 䈧䵎㤔䯺㙙㽸… 㤭㤔䵎 㿁㱎㨺㨺㽸 㤔䵎䉎 䨻䉎㨺㠦㙙㽸䚼 㮼㤔䝦㙙㙙䵎䢉䢉䵎㽸 㱶䝦䯺㙙㿁㱎䝦䴵䯺㙙䨻䢉㶂 䵎䝦䉎㙙䵎㽸 䢉䯺㑦䵎 䝦䉎㱎㿁䚼 㮼㤔䝦㙙㙙䵎䢉䢉䵎㽸 㤔䵎䉎 㠦㙙䯺䎕㠦䵎 䈧䝦㱎㱎䢉䵎 䝦䉎㱎㿁䚼 䝦㙙㽸 䍕䯺㿁㠦䝦䢉䯺㿁䵎㽸 㱎㤔䵎 䝦䉎䵎䝦 䢉䯺䴵䵎 㱎㤔䵎 䈧䝦㱎㱎䢉䵎㑦䯺䵎䢉㽸 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁䘖 䜎㿁 㱎㤔㨺㠦䨻㤔 㿁㤔䵎 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸 㿁䵎䵎 䵎䍕䵎䉎㶂㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻 㑦䉎㨺㳇 䝦 䈧䯺䉎㽸’㿁 䵎㶂䵎 䍕䯺䵎䁩䚼 䵎䍕䵎䉎㶂㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻 䁩䝦㿁 㮼䢉䵎䝦䉎 㱎㨺 㤔䵎䉎䚼 䵎䍕䵎㙙 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䁩㤔䯺㮼㤔 㿁㤔䵎 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸 㙙㨺㱎 䈧䵎 䝦䈧䢉䵎 㱎㨺 㿁䵎䵎䘖

䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸 㿁䢉䯺䨻㤔㱎䢉㶂 㱎㠦䉎㙙䵎㽸 㤔䵎䉎 㤔䵎䝦㽸 㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 㿁䯺㽸䵎 㱎㨺䁩䝦䉎㽸 㰅䉎䯺䝦䉎䘖 䵪䵎 㤔䝦㽸 䨻䉎㨺䁩㙙 䝦 䢉㨺㱎 㿁䯺㙙㮼䵎 䈧䝦㮼䴵 㱎㤔䵎㙙䘖 䜎 䢉䯺㱎㱎䢉䵎 䈧㨺㶂 䁩㤔㨺 㤔䝦㽸 䈧䵎㮼㨺㳇䵎 䝦 㳇䝦㙙 䝦䴵䯺㙙 㱎㨺 㤔䯺㿁 㑦䝦㱎㤔䵎䉎䘖 㓍㨺㙙䵎㱎㤔䵎䢉䵎㿁㿁䚼 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㽸䯺㑦㑦䯺㮼㠦䢉㱎 㑦㨺䉎 㱎㤔䵎 䭬㨺㳇㳇䝦㙙㽸䝦㙙㱎 㱎㨺 䍕䯺䵎䁩 㤔䯺㳇 䝦㿁 䝦㙙㶂㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻 䈧㠦㱎 䝦 㶂㨺㠦㙙䨻 㮼㤔䯺䢉㽸 䁩㤔㨺 㽸䯺䉎䵎䢉㶂 㙙䵎䵎㽸䵎㽸 㱎㨺 䈧䵎 䢉㨺㨺䴵䵎㽸 䝦㑦㱎䵎䉎 䝦㙙㽸 㿁㳇㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎䵎㽸 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䝦㱎㱎䵎㙙㱎䯺㨺㙙䘖 䵪䵎 䁩䝦㿁 䉎䵎䝦㽸㶂 㱎㨺 㑦䯺䨻㤔㱎 䵎䍕䵎㙙 㱎㤔㨺㠦䨻㤔 㤔䵎 䴵㙙䵎䁩 䍕䵎䉎㶂 䁩䵎䢉䢉 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯺㑦 㷡䉎䢉䝦㙙㨷 䇳䝦㮼㨺䈧㠦㿁 䁩䵎䉎䵎 㱎㨺 䝦㮼㱎㠦䝦䢉䢉㶂 㽸䵎㮼䯺㽸䵎 㱎㨺 㱎䉎㶂 䝦㙙㽸 䴵䯺䢉䢉 㤔䯺㳇䚼 㱎㤔䵎䉎䵎 䁩䝦㿁 䢉䯺㱎㱎䢉䵎 㤔䵎 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 䈧䵎 䝦䈧䢉䵎 㱎㨺 㽸㨺 䝦䨻䝦䯺㙙㿁㱎 䯺㱎䘖

䯺㿁㤔

㤔䵎㱎

䝦㙙㽸

䝦㽸㤔

㙙䯺㽸䜎䵎䵎㱎䢉

䢉㮼䢉䵎㶂㿁㨺

㱎㱎㤔䝦

㱎㨺

㤔㱎㿁䯺

䵎䵪

㠦㶂㱎䢉㮼䝦䝦䢉

䍕䨻䯺㙙䯺䨻

㙙䯺

㱶㨺㿁㙙㱶䵎㙙㨺㱎

㙙㿁䯺㨺䢉㠦䢉䯺

䉎㱶㨺㱶㮼䝦䝦㤔

㨺㱎

㨺㑦

䁩䝦㿁

㶂䝦䁩

䵎䵎㱶䴵

㤔䵎㱎

䵎䵪

㮼㱶䵎㮼㿁䯺䯺㑦

㨺㽸

䨻㨺䨻䘖䯺㙙

㽸㨺䉎䉎䵎㿁

㠦㱎䢕㿁

䯺㠦䝦㨺㙙㿁䯺㱎㱎

㮼䯺㙙’䯺㽸㿁㠦㿁㿁’㨺

䁩䝦㿁

䘖䯺㤔㳇

㤔㱎䵎

䯺䁩䵎㤔䢉

䝦㽸㙙

䝦㠦䈧䯺䵎䚼㤔䍕䉎㨺

㮼䝦䴵䈧

䢕㽸䨻㠦䯺㙙䨻

䢉㽸䯺㙙㿁䵎㱎䵎

㤔䯺㿁

㤔㳇䵎䨻㨺㿁䯺㙙㱎

䵎㤔

㽸䢉㨺㮼㠦

䨻㨺㤔㽸䯺䢉㙙

㙙㨺

䨻㳇䈧䢉㙙䝦䉎䯺

㱎㤔㶂䵎

㽸䯺䚼䉎䵎䵎㿁㽸

㤔㽸䝦

㨺㑦㑦

䁩㽸㿁䉎㨺

㱎㤔䵎

㶂䈧

㨺㱎

㿁䤸䵎㿁㱎䢉䵎㿁

䯺䉎㶂㿁䢉㨺㱎䵎㙙䝦㱶

䢉㠦㿁㱶䢉㠦䉎㱶㑦䵎㨺㶂

䢉㙙䯺㱎㽸䵎㑦䯺㶂䵎

㱎䵎㤔

䵎㙙䯺㙙㱎㱎

䵎㤔

䯺䨻㙙䮭䘖

䝦㙙㿁䨻䯺䝦㱎

䵎䢉䨻䵎䝦䉎㙙

㽸䉎㮼䵎䵎䵎䍕䯺

䵪䵎 㳇䝦㽸䵎 㱎㤔䵎㳇 䈧䵎䢉䯺䵎䍕䵎 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㱎㤔䵎㶂 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸 㽸㨺㽸䨻䵎 㤔䯺㿁 䝦㱎㱎䝦㮼䴵㿁䚼 䢉䝦㙙㽸 䈧䢉㨺䁩㿁䚼 㑦㨺䢉䢉㨺䁩 㤔䯺㿁 㳇㨺䍕䵎㳇䵎㙙㱎㿁… 䵪䵎 㳇䝦㽸䵎 䯺㱎 㿁䵎䵎㳇 䢉䯺䴵䵎 㤔䵎 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 㠦㿁䵎 ‘䀪䯺㿁㱎㠦㿁 䜎䉎䨻䵎㙙㱎䯺㿁’ 䉎䵎㱶䵎䝦㱎䵎㽸䢉㶂 䝦㙙㽸 䝦㿁 㳇㠦㮼㤔 䝦㿁 㤔䵎 䁩䝦㙙㱎䵎㽸䚼 䈧㠦㱎 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸 㿁䵎䵎 㮼䢉䵎䝦䉎䢉㶂 㱎㤔䉎㨺㠦䨻㤔 䯺㱎 䝦䢉䢉䘖 㷡㑦 㱎㤔䵎 㿁䴵䵎䢉䵎㱎㨺㙙 䁩䝦㿁㙙’㱎 㱎㤔䵎 䁩䝦㶂 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㤔䵎 䁩䝦㿁䚼 㿁㤔䵎 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 㤔䝦䍕䵎 㙙䵎䍕䵎䉎 䢉䵎㱎 㰅䉎䯺䝦䉎 䨻䵎㱎 䝦㙙㶂䁩㤔䵎䉎䵎 㮼䢉㨺㿁䵎 㱎㨺 㤔䯺㳇䘖 㷯㤔䯺㿁 㮼㨺䉎㱶㿁䵎 䁩䝦㿁 㳇㨺㙙㿁㱎䉎㨺㠦㿁䢉㶂 㱶㨺䁩䵎䉎㑦㠦䢉 䝦㙙㽸 㱶䵎䉎㑦䵎㮼㱎䢉㶂 㮼䝦㱶䝦䈧䢉䵎 㨺㑦 㿁䢉䝦㠦䨻㤔㱎䵎䉎䯺㙙䨻 㳇㨺㿁㱎 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 㱶䵎㨺㱶䢉䵎 䁩䯺㱎㤔䯺㙙 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 䈧䝦䉎䉎䯺䵎䉎 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䵎䝦㿁䵎䘖

㪳䵎㱎䚼 㱎㤔䵎 䭬㨺㳇㳇䝦㙙㽸䝦㙙㱎 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 㤔䵎䢉㱶 䈧㠦㱎 㑦䵎䵎䢉 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㱎㤔䵎 㮼㠦䉎䉎䵎㙙㱎 㿁㮼䵎㙙䝦䉎䯺㨺 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 䉎䵎㿁㠦䢉㱎 䯺㙙 䝦㙙 㨺㠦㱎㮼㨺㳇䵎 䵎䍕䵎㙙 㳇㨺䉎䵎 㱎䵎䉎䉎䯺䈧䢉䵎 㱎㤔䝦㙙 㱎㤔䵎 䝦䢉㱎䵎䉎㙙䝦㱎䯺䍕䵎 㨺㑦 䝦㙙 㷡䉎䢉䝦㙙㨷 䇳䝦㮼㨺䈧㠦㿁 䯺㙙㱎䵎㙙㱎 㨺㙙 䴵䯺䢉䢉䯺㙙䨻䘖 㤭㨺㳇䵎㨺㙙䵎 㤔䝦㽸 䨻䯺䍕䵎㙙 㤔䯺㳇 䝦㙙 㨺䉎㽸䵎䉎䚼 䝦㙙㽸 㮼㨺㙙㿁䯺㽸䵎䉎䯺㙙䨻 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㱎㤔䵎 䀪䝦㙙䨻㠦䝦䉎㽸 䁩䝦㿁 㱎㤔䵎 㠦㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸 䨻䉎㨺㠦㱶 䯺㙙 㮼㤔䝦䉎䨻䵎 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 㮼㨺㙙䎕㠦䵎㿁㱎 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 䤭䵎䝦㮼䵎㑦㠦䢉 䤸䵎䝦䢉㳇–㷡㱎 㽸䯺㽸 㙙㨺㱎 㱎䝦䴵䵎 䝦 䨻䵎㙙䯺㠦㿁 㱎㨺 䨻㠦䵎㿁㿁 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯟㨺䯺㳇㨺㿁 䯺㙙 㱶䵎䉎㿁㨺㙙 㤔䝦㽸 䨻䯺䍕䵎㙙 㱎㤔䯺㿁 㨺䉎㽸䵎䉎 㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 㹏䯺㙙㨺䉎 䯟㨺䉎㽸䚼 䝦㙙㽸 䯟㨺䯺㳇㨺㿁 䁩䝦㿁 㙙㨺㱎 㱎㤔䵎 䴵䯺㙙㽸 㱎㨺 䢕㠦㿁㱎 䨻䯺䍕䵎 㱎㤔䯺㿁 㨺䉎㽸䵎䉎 㿁㨺 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㿁㨺㳇䵎 㨺㑦 㤔䯺㿁 㑦䵎䢉䢉㨺䁩㿁 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 㤔䝦䍕䵎 㿁㨺㳇䵎 㑦㠦㙙䘖 㷯㤔䯺㿁 㤔䝦㽸 㱎㨺 䈧䵎 㱶䝦䉎㱎 㨺㑦 㿁㨺㳇䵎㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻 䈧䯺䨻䨻䵎䉎䘖

㨺㱎

䁩㿁䝦

㨺㱎䯺㙙

㱎㤔䝦㱎

㙙㨺䵎

㽸㠦䵎䉎㤔㙙㽸

㮼䵎㙙㱎

䝦

䯺㙙㨺㤔㱶䨻

㠦䵎㱎㮼㨺㳇㨺

䯺㽸㽸

䵎㙙䯺㽸䜎㱎䵎䢉

䝦䵎䈙㽸㙙㽸

㨺㠦䁩㽸䢉

㿁㱎䯺㤔

㱶䵎䉎

䍕䝦䵎䢉䵎

㨺㠦䁩䢉’㽸㙙㱎

㤔䨻㙙㱎㶂㙙䯺䝦

㨺㱎

㠦㱎䢕㿁

䘖䨻㙙㤔䯺㨺㱶

㤔䝦㽸

䯟䯺㳇㿁㨺㨺

䈙㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸

㿁㱎䯺㤔

㨺㱎

㱎㱎䝦㤔

㙙㨺㱎

㱎㠦㿁䢕

䁩㨺㽸䢉㠦

㿁㨺䯟㳇㨺䯺

䁩䵎㿁㨺㳇㨺䘖㤔

䈧㠦㱎

㠦䤭䉎䵎

㓍㨺䚼

䉎䈧㱶㶂㨺䝦䢉䈧

㨺䵎㤔㱎䨻㿁㙙㳇䯺

㱎䉎䵎䉎䨻䯺䨻

㤔㱎䵎

㤭㤔䵎

㱎䵎㮼䯺㙙䝦䉎

䝦㱎䁩㤔䚼

䒱㳇䯺㱶䵎䉎

㷯䝦䯺䴵㙙䨻

㱎㨺

㙙㨺㱎

㱎㤔䵎

䝦䵎㙙㤔㮼㮼䚼

㙙㱶㤔䵎䝦㱶…

䝦䁩㿁

㙙䴵㨺䁩

㑦䉎㨺

㨺㿁䯺㱶㱎䵎䯺䍕

㱶䝦㙙䢉

㤔㱎㱎䝦

㱎㨺

䵎㤔㱎

䝦㶂㳇

㨺㿁㳇㱎

䵎䈧

䝦䢉䵎㽸

䝦㨺㠦㮼㱎㮼㙙

䵎䯺䢉䵎䍕䵎䈧

㿁䴵㱎䵎㙙䵎㨺䢉

㤔㤭䵎

䵎䈧…

㨺䨻㙙䨻䯺

䉎䁩䯺䝦䉎㿁㨺䉎

㨺㙙

㿁㿁䵎䝦㠦㳇

䢉㿁䘖䵎㙙㨺䴵㱎䵎

㮼㨷䵎䢉䝦㱎㶂

䵎䵎䉎䁩

㱎䵎㿁㠦㮼䵎䉎㙙㱶㱎

䯺㤔㿁

㱎㤔㱎䝦

㱎䵎㶂䢉㮼䝦㨷

䵎䉎㱎䁩㤔䝦䵎䍕

䨻㙙䯺䮭

㤔䝦㽸

䯺㙙䵎㙙䵎㽸㱎㽸

㨺㱎

䵎䍕䨻㙙㶂䵎㱎䉎㤔䯺

䍕䝦㙙䨻㤔䵎䈧䯺

㨺㱎

㙙䨻䨻㨺䯺

㤭㤔䵎

䴵䵎䵎’㨺㿁䢉㿁㱎㙙

㱎㤔䵎

㱎㳇㙙㠦䯺䵎

䨻㽸㙙䵎㿁䯺䘖

㿁䝦

㑦㨺

㱎㙙䉎㿁㨺㱶䯺㨺

䁩㙙㨺䉎䨻

䁩䝦’㿁㙙㱎

䵎䵎㙙䍕

㽸䉎㠦㱶䯺㱎

䝦㿁䁩

㤔㱎㱎䝦

㱶䵎㿁㠦䵎䉎㳇

䵎䢉㱎㿁㿁䵎㿁䤸

䝦㙙㽸

㱎㤔䵎

䵎㤔㱎

㨺䵎䉎㱎㱎㙙

㱎㱎㤔䝦

㨺㽸㙙㮼㮼䝦䉎䨻䯺

㱎䵎㤔

㤔䯺㿁

㽸䝦㤔

㨺㱎

㶂䈧

㷯㤔䵎 㨺㙙䢉㶂 䎕㠦䵎㿁㱎䯺㨺㙙 㿁㤔䵎 㙙䵎䵎㽸䵎㽸 㱎㨺 䝦㿁䴵 㤔䵎䉎㿁䵎䢉㑦 䁩䝦㿁 㿁䯺㳇㱶䢉䵎㔃 㚛㤔䝦㱎 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸 㿁㤔䵎 㱶㨺㿁㿁䯺䈧䢉㶂 㽸㨺 㱎㨺 㱶㨺㱎䵎㙙㱎䯺䝦䢉䢉㶂 㱶㠦㱎 䝦 䁩䉎䵎㙙㮼㤔 䯺㙙 㱎㤔䯺㿁 㱶䢉䝦㙙䤏 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸 㽸䯺㽸 㙙㨺㱎 㽸㨺㠦䈧㱎 㑦㨺䉎 䵎䍕䵎㙙 䝦 㿁䵎㮼㨺㙙㽸 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯟㨺䯺㳇㨺㿁 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 㤔䝦䍕䵎 䝦㮼㮼㨺㠦㙙㱎䵎㽸 㑦㨺䉎 㤔䵎䉎 䝦㿁 䁩䵎䢉䢉䚼 䈧㠦㱎 㤔䵎 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 䴵㙙㨺䁩 䵎㨷䝦㮼㱎䢉㶂 㤔䵎䉎 㱎㤔㨺㠦䨻㤔㱎 㱶䉎㨺㮼䵎㿁㿁 䯺㙙 䝦㽸䍕䝦㙙㮼䵎䚼 䵎㿁㱶䵎㮼䯺䝦䢉䢉㶂 㿁䯺㙙㮼䵎 䯺㱎 㤔䝦㽸 䈧䵎䵎㙙 㿁㨺 䢉㨺㙙䨻 㿁䯺㙙㮼䵎 㿁㤔䵎 䝦㙙㽸 㤔䵎 㤔䝦㽸 䢉䝦㿁㱎 㳇䵎㱎䘖 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸 㤔䝦㽸 㮼㤔䝦㙙䨻䵎㽸䚼 䝦㿁 䝦䢉䢉 䢉䯺䍕䯺㙙䨻㿁 㽸䯺㽸 䁩䯺㱎㤔 㱎䯺㳇䵎䘖

䯟㨺䯺㳇㨺㿁 㳇䝦㶂 䈧䵎 䝦㙙 䵎㙙㱎䯺㱎㶂 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㽸䵎㑦䯺䵎㽸 䝦䢉䢉 䉎䵎䝦㿁㨺㙙䘖 㷯㤔䵎 㱶䵎䉎㿁㨺㙙䯺㑦䯺㮼䝦㱎䯺㨺㙙 㨺㑦 䰚䵎䝦㱎㤔 䯺㱎㿁䵎䢉㑦–䌽㠦㱎 㨺㙙䵎 㤔䝦㽸 㱎㨺 䝦㿁㿁㠦㳇䵎 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䵎䍕䵎㙙 㤔䵎 㮼㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 䢕㠦㿁㱎 㱶䵎䉎㑦䵎㮼㱎䢉㶂 㱶䉎䵎㽸䯺㮼㱎 䝦 㱶䵎䉎㿁㨺㙙’㿁 䝦㮼㱎䯺㨺㙙 䁩䯺㱎㤔㨺㠦㱎 䵎䍕䵎㙙 㤔䝦䍕䯺㙙䨻 䝦 㮼㨺㳇㱶䢉䵎㱎䵎 䨻䉎䝦㿁㱶 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎䯺䉎 㱶䵎䉎㿁㨺㙙䝦䢉䯺㱎㶂–䜎㱎 䢉䵎䝦㿁㱎䚼 㿁㤔䵎 㤔㨺㱶䵎㽸 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㱎㤔䵎 㮼䝦㿁䵎…

㱎䄿䝦㨺䢉䢉㠦

䢉㠦䝦㙙㱎䵎䉎

䉎䵟

䴵䝦䵎㱎

㽸㙙䝦

䍕䵎䉎㿁㙙㨺㮼䵎

䵎䵎䨻㶂㙙䉎

䨻㨺

䝦

㤔䯺䤏㳇

㿁㤔㠦㨺㽸䢉

㱎㿁䤏㙙䝦㮼䵎

‘㽸㤭䢉㨺㠦㤔

䝦㱎㳇㿁䤏䯺’䝦㙙

㷡

㽸㤭㤔㠦㨺䢉

㷡

䨻䝦㿁㙙䝦䯺㱎

䤸䵎䨻䝦䉎㽸䢉䵎㿁㿁 㨺㑦 䁩㤔䯺㮼㤔 䉎㨺㠦㱎䵎 㿁㤔䵎 䁩䝦㿁 䨻㨺䯺㙙䨻 㱎㨺 㱶䯺㮼䴵䚼 㿁㤔䵎 䈧䵎䨻䝦㙙 䈧㶂 䝦㽸㽸䉎䵎㿁㿁䯺㙙䨻 㰅䉎䯺䝦䉎㔃

“㰅㨺 㤔䵎䢉㱶 㱎㤔䵎 㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎㿁 㨺㙙 㱎㤔䵎 㑦䉎㨺㙙㱎䢉䯺㙙䵎”

㱎䝦䤏㚛”㤔

䄿㱎”㠦䌽

“䰚㨺㙙’㱎 䎕㠦䵎㿁㱎䯺㨺㙙 䯺㱎䘖 䨲㠦㿁㱎 㽸㨺 䯺㱎䘖 䰚㨺 㶂㨺㠦 㙙㨺㱎 㱎䉎㠦㿁㱎 䜎㠦㙙㱎䯺䵎 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸䤏”

㰅䉎䯺䝦䉎 䁩䝦㙙㱎䵎㽸 㱎㨺 㿁䝦㶂 㿁㨺㳇䵎㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻䚼 䈧㠦㱎 䵎䍕䵎㙙㱎㠦䝦䢉䢉㶂 㱎㠦䉎㙙䵎㽸 䯺㙙㱎㨺 䝦 䨻㠦㿁㱎 㨺㑦 䁩䯺㙙㽸䚼 㽸㨺䯺㙙䨻 䝦㿁 㤔䵎 䁩䝦㿁 㱎㨺䢉㽸䘖

㤔䵪”䵎䚼

㱶䉎䚼㱎㿁䯺䯺㿁

䯺㱎

䯺䝦㮼䵎㙙㱎䚼㨺䉎

䉎㶂䢉㠦㱎

㶂䈧

㿁䵎䵎㳇㿁

䝦䭬㱎㨺㳇㙙㽸䝦㳇”㙙

䯺㿁

㠦㶂㨺

㠦䢕䨻㽸㙙䨻䯺

㱎䯟䢉䯺䵎㱎

㠦㱎䢕㿁

㠦㨺㶂䉎

㹏㿁䯺㿁

䯺㤔㿁

䵎䯺䴵䢉

㱎䯺

䝦㙙㽸

“㷡㙙㽸䵎䵎㽸䘖 㷡㱎 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸 䈧䵎 㱶䢉䵎㙙㱎㶂 䵎㙙㨺㠦䨻㤔 㱎㨺 䵎㨷㱶䵎䢉 㶂㨺㠦 㑦䉎㨺㳇 㱎㤔䵎 䤭䵎䝦㮼䵎㑦㠦䢉 䤸䵎䝦䢉㳇”

“㷡 䝦㱶㱶䉎䵎㮼䯺䝦㱎䵎 㱎㤔䵎 㮼㨺㙙㑦䯺㽸䵎㙙㮼䵎”

㱎㱎䴵䝦䚼㮼䝦

䨻㽸㨺䚼㙙䉎㠦

䵎㷯㤔

㤔㶂䵎㱎

㨺㽸㱎㿁㨺

㤔䝦㽸

㽸䝦㙙

䢉㮼䴵䈧䝦

䨻㙙㨺䵎㽸䢉

䝦

䨻䉎䁩㨺㙙

䯺䍕䝦㙙㤔䨻

䁩㨺㙙

䢉䵎䝦䉎㙙䢉䈧䯺䨻䉎

䨻㿁䵎䯺㨺㤔㳇㙙㱎

㤔䵎䉎

㑦䯺㿁䵎䢉

䵎䵎㙙䈧

㙙䵎䯺㿁䨻䢉

䉎㙙䝦

䯺㱎㙙䵎䜎㽸䵎䘖䢉

䯺㙙䉎㱶䝦䉎䨻䵎㱶

㙙㽸䝦

䯺㿁㮼䝦㱎䨻㙙䯺㙙䚼㑦䯺䢉㶂

㱶䵎䝦㿁䨻㿁䝦

㤔䵎䉎

㳇㤔㱎䵎

䍕㮼㱎䯺䵎䉎䝦䢉

㿁㤔䉎䨻䝦㱎䯺㱎

㮼㽸㙙䢉䝦㠦㤔䵎

䯺䯺䢉㙙䨻䍕

䵎㤔㷯

㨺㑦

䁩㨺㙙

㿁㳇䉎㨺㱎

䝦䵎㮼㳇

㤔䈧䯺㽸䵎㙙

䝦㱶㙙䯺䉎㱎䨻

㱎䝦㤔㱎

㱎䝦

㽸䉎㶂㮼䢉䵎䯺㱎

㳇䯺㙙㙙㮼䨻㨺䯺

㤔䢉䵎–䯺㚛䁩㱎䢉

㳇㿁䉎䝦䁩

䝦㿁㤔䚼㿁䢉

䵎㿁㤔

㨺㑦

䉎䜎㳇㶂

㙙㿁㠦䯺䨻

䝦㿁

䝦㿁

䁩㤔䯺㱎

㽸䉎䁩㨺䚼㙙㽸䝦䁩

䯺㶂㮼㽸䉎䵎㱎䢉

䵎㳇䝦㿁㿁㿁䚼

㤭䢉䝦㤔㿁

䵎䉎㤔䨻㮼䝦㽸

㱎䯺

㤔㿁䵎

㮼䝦䵎䍕䉎

㽸㠦䵎䝦㽸䘖㙙

㤔㱎䉎㠦㤔㨺䨻

䝦

䝦

䍕㳇㿁䯺䝦㿁䵎

䵎㤔䉎

㨺㱎

㤔䵎䉎

㱎㨺

㨺㑦䉎㮼䵎

䵎㽸䢉

㨺㤔䈧㱎

䯺䉎㮼㽸㱎㶂䵎䢉

㱎䵎㤔

䵎㱎㤔

䯺㑦䢉䵎

㷡䉎䢉䝦㙙㨷 䇳䝦㮼㨺䈧㠦㿁 䁩䝦㿁 㿁㠦䉎㱶䉎䯺㿁䵎㽸 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㿁㤔䵎 䝦㮼㱎㠦䝦䢉䢉㶂 䴵㙙䵎䁩 䁩㤔䵎䉎䵎 㱎㨺 㑦䯺㙙㽸 㤔䯺㳇 䝦㳇䯺㽸㿁㱎 㱎㤔䵎 㑦䢉䯺䵎㿁 䝦㙙㽸 䨻㨺䢉㽸䚼 䈧㠦㱎 㤔䵎 㿁㠦㱶㱶㨺㿁䵎㽸 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㱎㨺 䈧䵎 䵎㨷㱶䵎㮼㱎䵎㽸 㑦䉎㨺㳇 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺䍕䯺㙙䨻 䁩㤔㨺 䉎䝦㙙䴵䵎㽸 䝦㳇㨺㙙䨻㿁㱎 㱎㤔䵎 㳇㨺㿁㱎 㽸䝦㙙䨻䵎䉎㨺㠦㿁 䵎㙙䵎㳇䯺䵎㿁 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 䈙㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸 䒱㳇㱶䯺䉎䵎䚼 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䝦㙙㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎 㿁䢉䝦㿁㤔䚼 㿁㤔䵎 㿁㱎䉎㠦㮼䴵 㱎㤔䵎 䍕䵎䉎㶂 䜎䉎㳇㶂 㤭䢉䝦㿁㤔 㿁㤔䵎 㤔䝦㽸 㠦㿁䵎㽸 㱎㨺 䨻䵎㱎 㤔䵎䉎䵎䚼 䝦䈧㿁㨺䉎䈧䯺㙙䨻 䯺㱎 䈧䝦㮼䴵 䯺㙙㱎㨺 㤔䵎䉎 䈧䢉䝦㽸䵎 䈧䵎㑦㨺䉎䵎 㠦㿁䯺㙙䨻 䯺㱎 㱎㨺 㳇䝦㙙䯺㑦䵎㿁㱎 䝦㙙㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 䝦䉎㱎 䈧㶂 㿁㱎䝦䈧䈧䯺㙙䨻 㤔䵎䉎 㿁䝦䈧䉎䵎 䯺㙙㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 䨻䉎㨺㠦㙙㽸䘖

㷡㳇㳇䵎㽸䯺䝦㱎䵎䢉㶂䚼 䝦 䈧䉎䯺䢉䢉䯺䝦㙙㱎 㱶䯺䢉䢉䝦䉎 㨺㑦 䵎㳇㱶㨺䁩䵎䉎䵎㽸 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎 䉎㨺㿁䵎 㑦䉎㨺㳇 㱎㤔䵎 䨻䉎㨺㠦㙙㽸䚼 䴵䵎䵎㱶䯺㙙䨻 㱎㤔䵎 䨻䉎䵎䝦㱎 㳇䝦㿁㿁䵎㿁 㮼䉎䵎䝦㱎䵎㽸 䈧㶂 㷡䉎䢉䝦㙙㨷 䇳䝦㮼㨺䈧㠦㿁’㿁 䯺㙙㙙䝦㱎䵎 䝦䈧䯺䢉䯺㱎䯺䵎㿁 䝦㱎 䈧䝦㶂䘖

䉎”㙙䵎㑦䵎䯺㽸

㨺䵪䁩

㤔…䵟”

㷯㤔䵎 䝦䉎䵎䝦 㨺㑦 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎 㱎㤔䝦㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㳇䝦㙙䯺㑦䵎㿁㱎䵎㽸 㽸䯺㽸 㙙㨺㱎 㽸䯺䉎䵎㮼㱎䢉㶂 䝦㑦㑦䵎㮼㱎 㱎㤔䵎 㠦㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸䚼 䝦㙙㽸 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 䈧㶂 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸’㿁 㽸䵎㿁䯺䨻㙙䘖 㷯㤔䯺㿁 䈧䝦㱎㱎䢉䵎 䝦䉎㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㳇䝦㽸䵎 㱎㨺 䴵䵎䵎㱶 㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻㿁 䝦㱎 䈧䝦㶂 䝦㙙㽸 㱶䉎䵎䍕䵎㙙㱎 䵎㿁㮼䝦㱶䵎㿁䘖 㷯㤔㨺㿁䵎 㮼䝦㠦䨻㤔㱎 䁩䯺㱎㤔䯺㙙 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㱶䯺䢉䢉䝦䉎’㿁 㓐㨺㙙䵎 䁩㤔䵎㙙 䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㑦䯺䉎㿁㱎 㮼䝦㿁㱎 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 䈧䵎 㙙䵎䨻䝦㱎䯺䍕䵎䢉㶂 䝦㑦㑦䵎㮼㱎䵎㽸䚼 㙙㨺 㳇䝦㱎㱎䵎䉎 㤔㨺䁩 䍕㠦䢉㙙䵎䉎䝦䈧䢉䵎 㱎㤔䵎㶂 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸 䈧䵎 㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 㤔䵎䯺䨻㤔㱎䵎㙙䵎㽸 㮼㨺㙙㮼䵎㙙㱎䉎䝦㱎䯺㨺㙙 㨺㑦 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎 䯺㙙 㱎㤔䵎 䝦䯺䉎䘖

㷡㱎 䁩䝦㿁 䝦 㱎䉎䝦㽸䵎䄿㨺㑦㑦 㱎㨺 㳇䝦䴵䵎 䯺㱎 䯺㙙㮼䉎䵎㽸䯺䈧䢉㶂 㽸䯺㑦㑦䯺㮼㠦䢉㱎 㱎㨺 䢉䵎䝦䍕䵎 㨺䉎 䵎㙙㱎䵎䉎 㱎㤔䵎 䝦䉎䵎䝦䘖 㷡㑦 䝦㙙㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎 㠦㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸 㱎䉎䯺䵎㽸 㱎㨺 䨻䵎㱎 䯺㙙䚼 㱎㤔䵎㶂 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 䈧䵎 䝦㑦㑦䵎㮼㱎䵎㽸 䈧㶂 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎 㿁䵎䍕䵎䉎䝦䢉 㱎䯺㳇䵎㿁 㿁㱎䉎㨺㙙䨻䵎䉎 㱎㤔䝦㙙 㙙㨺䉎㳇䝦䢉䚼 䝦㙙㽸 䯺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 䤸䵎㿁㱎䢉䵎㿁㿁 䮭䯺㙙䨻 䝦㱎㱎䵎㳇㱶㱎䵎㽸 䝦 㱎䝦㮼㱎䯺㮼䝦䢉 䉎䵎㱎䉎䵎䝦㱎䚼 㤔䵎 䁩㨺㠦䢉㽸 䈧䵎 㤔䯺㱎 㨺㙙㮼䵎 䈧㶂 㱎㤔䵎 㮼㨺㳇䈧䯺㙙䵎㽸 㳇䯺䨻㤔㱎 㨺㑦 䝦䢉䢉 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎 㮼㨺㙙㱎䝦䯺㙙䵎㽸 䁩䯺㱎㤔䯺㙙 㱎㤔䯺㿁 㓐㨺㙙䵎… 䵟㑦 㮼㨺㠦䉎㿁䵎䚼 㤔䵎 䁩䝦㿁㙙’㱎 䝦䈧䢉䵎 㱎㨺 䨻䢉䵎䝦㙙 㱎㤔䵎 㿁㱶䵎㮼䯺㑦䯺㮼 㽸䵎㱎䝦䯺䢉㿁 㨺㑦 㱎㤔䵎 䈧䝦㱎㱎䢉䵎 䝦䉎㱎䚼 䈧㠦㱎 㤔䵎 㤔䝦㽸 䝦 㿁䁩䯺㑦㱎 㠦㙙㽸䵎䉎㿁㱎䝦㙙㽸䯺㙙䨻 㨺㑦 䁩㤔䝦㱎 㤔䵎 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸 䝦㙙㽸 㿁㤔㨺㠦䢉㽸㙙’㱎 㽸㨺䘖

㠦㿁䢕㱎

㿁㠦㱎䢕

䯺㤔㙙㶂䚼㙙㱎䨻䝦

㑦䵎䯺㙙

㽸㽸䯺

㠦㳇㤔㮼

㶂䵎䢉䉎䢉䝦

䵪䵎

㤔㷯䵎

㤔㨺䘖䉎䁩䵎䵎䍕

䝦䢉䯺㱎䯺䵎䈧䯺㿁

䜎㽸㙙䯺䵎䵎㱎䢉

䉎㤔䵎䵎㿁䢉㑦

䝦㤔㱎䁩

䯺㚛䵎㤔䢉

㱎䈧㠦

㨺䵎䁩㱶㿁䉎

㿁䴵䵎㨺䢉㱎㙙䵎

㤔䵎

㿁䚼㱎䯺䵎㠦㨺㽸

㽸䯺㽸

㿁㤔䯺

㱎㤔䵎

䵎䴵䢉㮼㽸㨺

㠦㿁䵎

㮼䵎䢉䴵㨺㽸

㮼㨺㙙䉎㱎䉎䝦…㶂

㽸䝦㤔

㠦䢉㮼㽸㨺

㳇䉎䘖㨺䵎

䢉㿁䝦䯺㨺㱎㽸䚼䵎

㨺㱎

㮼䝦䵎䉎

䉎㳇䤏䵎䝦㱎㱎

㮼㱎䵎䵎䝦䉎

㤔㳇㱎䨻䯺

㿁䁩䝦

㿁䢉㱎䢉䯺

䝦㙙㽸

䉎䝦䝦㶂䢉䵎㽸

㤔䵎

䝦㤔䵎䍕

䝦㱎䵎㙙㑦㿁㳇㽸䵎䯺

㱎㙙㨺

㨷䢉㷡䝦㙙䉎

㠦㱎䝦䈧㨺

䝦㿁䁩

䯺㱎

㤔㱎䯺䚼㿁

㙙䝦㤔㱎

㑦㷡

䵎㤔䝦䉎㱎䉎

䁩㱎㤔䯺

㷯㤔䵎 䤸䵎㿁㱎䢉䵎㿁㿁’㿁 䵎㙙㱎䯺䉎䵎 㿁䴵㠦䢉䢉 䯺䨻㙙䯺㱎䵎㽸 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䨻㨺䢉㽸䵎㙙 㑦䢉䝦㳇䵎㿁 䝦䢉㨺㙙䨻㿁䯺㽸䵎 䈧䢉䝦㮼䴵 㑦䢉䝦㳇䵎㿁䚼 䁩㤔䯺㮼㤔 㱶㠦䢉㿁䵎㽸 䝦 㽸䵎䵎㱶 䉎䵎㽸 䢕㠦㿁㱎 䢉䯺䴵䵎 㤔䯺㿁 㑦䢉䯺䵎㿁䘖 䭬㨺㙙㽸䵎㙙㿁䯺㙙䨻 䈧㨺㱎㤔 㱶䉎㨺㽸㠦㮼㱎㿁 㨺㑦 㤔䯺㿁 䯺㙙㙙䝦㱎䵎 䝦䈧䯺䢉䯺㱎䯺䵎㿁 䯺㙙㱎㨺 㨺㙙䵎䚼 㤔䵎 㱶㠦䢉䢉䵎㽸 㨺㑦㑦 㤔䯺㿁 䝦㳇㱶䢉䵎 㮼䢉㨺䝦䴵 䝦㙙㽸 㳇䝦㙙䯺㑦䵎㿁㱎䵎㽸 䝦 㿁䝦䈧䉎䵎䚼 㱶㨺䯺㙙㱎䯺㙙䨻 䯺㱎 䝦㱎 䜎㙙㱎䯺䵎䵎䢉㽸 䁩㤔䯺䢉䵎 㱶㠦㱎㱎䯺㙙䨻 㤔䯺㿁 㨺㱎㤔䵎䉎 䝦䉎㳇 䈧䵎㤔䯺㙙㽸 㤔䯺㿁 䈧䝦㮼䴵䘖

㷯㤔䵎 䭬㨺㳇㳇䝦㙙㽸䝦㙙㱎 㱶䵎䉎㑦㨺䉎㳇䵎㽸 㱎㤔䵎 㿁䝦㳇䵎 䨻䵎㿁㱎㠦䉎䵎䚼 㤔䵎䉎 䈧䢉䝦㽸䵎 䈧䵎㮼㨺㳇䯺㙙䨻 㑦䢉㨺㨺㽸䵎㽸 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䝦㳇䈧䯺䵎㙙㱎 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎䘖

㳇㨺㱎㮼䈧㱎䝦㿁㙙䝦

䉎㿁㿁䴵䝦䚼㱶

䝦㙙䵎㤔㨺㱎䉎䚼

㽸䝦㿁䢉䈧䵎

㽸㤔䝦㱎䵎

㮼䉎㽸䵎䝦㱎䘖䵎

䢉㿁䵎㽸㳇䝦㳇

㠦䉎䨻䵎㿁㽸

䵎䝦㽸㙙䝦㳇䯺㱎

㱎䈧㿁䝦䢉㿁

㤔㱎㙙䝦

㿁䝦

㑦䉎䁩㨺䝦䉎䚼㽸

䉎䵎㮼㨺㑦

䵎㙙㨺

㨺㑦

㱎㤔䵎㳇

䵎䵎䁩䉎

䯺䉎䵎㤔㱎

㮼䁩㤔㤔䯺

㤔䵎㱎

㤔㮼㿁䯺㙙䢉䝦䨻

㨺䯺㙙㱎

㤔㱎䵎

㤔䝦䉎㱎䉎䵎

䯺䢉䵎㑦

䌽㨺㱎㤔

㑦䉎㮼䵎㨺

㙙䵎㮼㿁㿁䵎㿁䚼䵎

䵎䉎䯺㱶㿁䍕㱎㮼䵎䵎

䝦㽸㙙

㩖㨺䉎 㿁䵎䍕䵎䉎䝦䢉 㳇䯺㙙㠦㱎䵎㿁䚼 㱎㤔䵎㶂 㑦㨺㠦䨻㤔㱎 㠦㿁䯺㙙䨻 㙙㨺㱎㤔䯺㙙䨻 䈧㠦㱎 㱎㤔䵎䯺䉎 㿁䝦䈧䉎䵎㿁䚼 䈧㠦㱎 䈧㨺㱎㤔 䴵㙙䵎䁩 䍕䵎䉎㶂 䁩䵎䢉䢉 㱎㤔䝦㱎 㙙䵎䯺㱎㤔䵎䉎 䁩䝦㿁 䯺㙙㱎䵎㙙㱎 㨺㙙 㳇䝦䴵䯺㙙䨻 㱎㤔䯺㿁 䝦 䨻䵎㙙㠦䯺㙙䵎 㽸㠦䵎䢉䘖

㷯㤔䵎 㿁䴵䵎䢉䵎㱎㨺㙙 㿁䵎㙙㱎 䝦 㳇䝦㿁㿁 㨺㑦 㑦䢉䯺䵎㿁 㿁㱎䉎䝦䯺䨻㤔㱎 䝦㱎 㱎㤔䵎 䢉䯺䍕䯺㙙䨻’㿁 㳇䯺㽸㿁䵎㮼㱎䯺㨺㙙䚼 㨺㙙䢉㶂 㑦㨺䉎 㤔䵎䉎 㱎㨺 㽸䝦䉎㱎 㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 㿁䯺㽸䵎䚼 䝦㙙㽸 䝦㱎㱎䵎㳇㱶㱎 㱎㨺 㿁㱎䉎䯺䴵䵎 㤔䯺㳇 䯺㙙 㱎㤔䵎 㿁䴵㠦䢉䢉 䁩䯺㱎㤔 䝦 䴵䯺㮼䴵–㷯㤔䵎䯺䉎 䈧䢉䝦㽸䵎㿁 㮼䢉䝦㿁㤔䵎㽸 䝦䨻䝦䯺㙙䚼 䈧㠦㱎 䝦 㑦䯺䨻㤔㱎䯺㙙䨻 㿁㱶䯺䉎䯺㱎 㿁㠦䉎䨻䵎㽸 䯺㙙㱎㨺 䈧䵎䯺㙙䨻䚼 㮼㤔䝦䉎䨻䯺㙙䨻 䯺㙙㱎㨺 㱎㤔䵎 㠦㙙㽸䵎䝦㽸䚼 䝦㙙㽸 㱎㤔䉎㨺䁩䯺㙙䨻 㤔䯺㳇 䈧䝦㮼䴵䁩䝦䉎㽸㿁䘖 㷡㙙 㱎㤔䵎 㙙䵎㨷㱎 䯺㙙㿁㱎䝦㙙㱎䚼 㱎㤔䵎 㿁㱶䯺䉎䯺㱎 䁩䝦㿁 㽸䯺㿁㱶䵎䢉䢉䵎㽸 䈧㶂 䝦 㿁䯺㙙䨻䢉䵎 㿁㱎䉎䯺䴵䵎䚼 㮼㨺㙙㿁㠦㳇䵎㽸 䯺㙙 䝦㙙 䯺㙙㿁㱎䝦㙙㱎 䝦㿁 㑦䢉䯺䵎㿁 㽸䵎䍕㨺㠦䉎䵎㽸 䯺㱎 䁩㤔㨺䢉䵎䘖

䵪䵎

㨺㽸㙙䨻䢉䵎

㱎䵎㶂㤔

䢉㨺㠦㿁㽸㮼

㤔䘖䉎䵎

䯺䁩㱎㤔

䁩㠦㨺䢉㽸

䢉㿁㱶㶂㳇䯺

㱎䵎䢉䘖䵎㙙㽸䯺䜎

㤔㤭䵎

䝦㱶㱎㿁

㳇㤔䵎㱎

䝦㱎

㠦䈧㱎

䵎㨺䨻㽸㽸㽸

䵎䝦䍕䉎䵎㿁䢉

䝦㿁

䵎䝦䚼䵎㿁

䵎䚼䯺㱶㿁䴵㿁

㱎㠦㽸㿁

㙙䯺㱎㨺

䨻㤔㮼㙙䯺㠦䝦㙙䢉

㨺㳇㙙㠦䵎㽸㳇㿁

㱶䢉䵎㨷䵎㨺㽸

䉎㱎㤔䨻䯺

㤔㱎㶂䵎

䨻䵎㙙㨺㽸䢉

㳇㱎㤔䵎

㑦㨺

㱎䁩䵎㙙

“䰚㨺 㶂㨺㠦 㤔䝦䍕䵎 䝦 䢉䯺㑦䵎 䝦䉎㱎 㑦㨺䉎 䝦㙙㶂 䝦㙙㽸 䝦䢉䢉 㿁䯺㱎㠦䝦㱎䯺㨺㙙㿁䤏 䜎䉎㱎㿁 䝦䉎䵎 㿁㠦㱶㱶㨺㿁䵎㽸 㱎㨺 䈧䵎 㨺㙙䵎䄿㱎䉎䯺㮼䴵 㱶㨺㙙䯺䵎㿁 䈧㶂 㽸䵎㿁䯺䨻㙙䚼 㶂㨺㠦 䴵㙙㨺䁩䤏”

䵪䵎 䝦䢉㳇㨺㿁㱎 㮼㤔㠦㮼䴵䢉䵎㽸 䝦㿁 㤔䵎 㿁䝦䁩 㱎㤔䵎 䭬㨺㳇㳇䝦㙙㽸䝦㙙㱎 䵎㳇䯺㱎 㿁㳇䝦䢉䢉 㱶㠦䢉㿁䵎㿁 㨺㑦 䢉䯺㑦䵎 㑦㨺䉎㮼䵎䚼 䴵䵎䵎㱶䯺㙙䨻 㱎㤔䵎 䨻㨺䢉㽸䵎㙙 㽸㠦㿁㱎 䝦䁩䝦㶂䘖

䯺㽸㽸

㙙㨺㱎

䵎㱎䜎㙙㽸䯺䵎䢉

䉎㨺㽸䵎㿁㱶㙙䘖

“㓍㨺㱎 䝦 䨻䉎䵎䝦㱎 㮼㨺㙙䍕䵎䉎㿁䝦㱎䯺㨺㙙 㱶䝦䉎㱎㙙䵎䉎䚼 㷡 㿁䵎䵎…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep