It's been a month now, and the hunt for that horrible criminal is still in full swing. --Teams of Konos are everywhere in the streets. Portraits have been plastered on the streets, and people are talking about the prisoner above. Some said it was a spy sent by an enemy country, others said it was a species of orc, and still others said it was a cultist from the Necromancy Guild.

  Asa followed old man Sandru and a few vegetable vendors around the front of the butcher store, listening to the boss frothing at the mouth to tell how the cultist drew a talisman in his hand and shouted, and all the people in the prison were suddenly dead and bleeding. A few vegetable vendors exchanged pleasantries and agreed to go to church together to ask for holy water to protect themselves.

  "The holy water must be sprinkled close to the body, on the underwear is effective." Old man Sandro said to a couple of vegetable vendors.

  A group of patrolling Konos brushed past Asa, and a few of them even glanced at him curiously.

  And it was only a glance. Even Asa didn't quite dare look at himself much when he saw the mirror. His face looked like an ugly face made of wax that had been halfway baked in the fire and then re-solidified, pitted with oily lumps of flesh, his features distorted and twisted, even his eyes torn out of shape. Even an Orc or a Dalek would be more handsome than him.

  Of course it was just a mask. A mask that was so well made that you could actually see the pores, the veins on the tumors were hidden, and it was just as elastic as real skin to the touch. Old man Sandru's craftsmanship was excellent, and he didn't feel any discomfort wearing it, except that Asa wasn't quite brave enough to ask him what the hell he'd made it out of.

  Bending over, carrying a padded back, limping a little more when he walked, and wearing a raggedy robe that covered his entire body inside, it was a perfectly fitting look for the phase. After two days of following Sandru around the streets, a few of the people on the streets became familiar with him, all knowing that he was Old Man Sandru's hunchbacked assistant.

  The fact that old man Sandru was actually considered a man of the Academy of Magic, and that the big house full of corpses belonged to the Academy of Magic, was somewhat of a surprise to Asa. Even in his countryside of Calendor, the miners and blacksmiths who indulged in bad wine and prostitutes had to look respectful when the Academy of Magic was mentioned among them. It was an important institution of the church, and in the minds of many it was almost equivalent to the center of the church, a place where magic was studied and priests and wizards were trained. Mentioning the royal family or any other military matters to the lower class civilians felt like a vague concept, far less interesting than the rumors on the streets. However, if you are injured or have done something wrong, and you feel guilty, it is the priests of the Magic Academy who will help you. Therefore, in the minds of the general public, it is a holy and noble place.

  However, just like a woman who looks even more holy is just a human being, if she is a human being, she will go to the toilet. Since the Academy of Magic was going to study healing magic, it had to study the human body, and it also had to have a place dedicated to storing corpses.

  Of course, taking into account the sanctity of the church, this kind of research is only very necessary when the amount of time to carry out quietly, such a place can not be inside the magic academy. The big house was built in a remote corner on the west side of the city, and the only living things inside were Asa and old man Sandro.

  Old man Sandro's job is actually just to keep and categorize all kinds of organs and limbs, weekdays are very free, and sometimes will go to stroll around the market. But generally always like to mess with the corpse, for example, several people's different parts of the re-splicing into a humanoid, with some inexplicable magic corpse, an organ cut into dozens of small pieces, respectively, soak dozens of different kinds of medicine, and so on and so forth. It's a very body-consuming hobby, and as such Sandru has a good relationship with the city's jailers and guards, who immediately sell him irrelevant or unclaimed corpses for a few copper coins whenever they come in. Asa's job was to carry the bodies, assist in splitting them up, chopping up the organs, and going to the market to buy the daily necessities that would take care of the two men's diet.

  The big house was usually not even approached. But besides the three feral cats in the neighborhood, there was also a visitor every two or three days. It was also an old man, dressed in a black robe, with cheeks so thin that it looked like he had never had a full meal in his life, and with dark circles under his eyes as if he had never slept well, who came to Sandru at night every time. Every time this happened Sandru would send Asa into the inner hut to read a book for himself. The two old men lit candles in the large hut full of corpses and organs and talked until midnight.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Two months ago, from the west of the wilderness of the mountains watched the troops they were all destroyed, and then hunted by the orcs, lizard swamps in the death of life, and was almost screwed off the head and then came to the king's capital, and inexplicably became the entire king's capital to be heard of fugitives from the law is now a large house full of corpses, accompanied by an eccentric old man fiddling with the corpses. Thinking about the encounter during this period of time, even I feel unbelievable.

  According to the reason is completely can take advantage of the old man Sandro not pay attention to quietly sneak away, with this mask and his current popularity in the city absolutely can pass through. But he never did so.

  There are many reasons not to run away, for example, learning magic is a wish he could not reach since childhood. There were quite a few books on magic in Sandru's house. And he was also here waiting for Bracada's caravan to return Little Yi. This seemed to have been the only turnaround in this present predicament. The Duke's order of 'execution on the spot' had left him without even a chance to clear the air for himself, not to mention that he was still completely unsure of the reason for it. The only hope would be to wait for her return and see if the misunderstanding could be cleared up.

  Asa had always thought that the Duke wanted him because of some misunderstanding between him and Yi. He could only guess so under the present circumstances.

  But none of that was important. The reason he hadn't run away was because Asa didn't feel there was anything wrong with this strange life he was currently living.

  It was probably because he had experienced too much blood and cruelty that night two months ago, and now living surrounded by corpses and organs didn't feel repulsive.

  Probably because in the lizard swamp countless times and death is so close to almost really dead, now look at the street full of check troops also do not feel nervous. Even sometimes see a team of young soldiers running so hard for themselves, will also be born to them a kind of inexplicable affection, want to go over to pull them, ask them to sit on the street stalls to eat something, bitterly advise them not to waste their strength anymore.

  Probably old man Sandro was so accustomed to being in contact with corpses that he treated people as corpses without the slightest wariness, and got along very conveniently. He never asked about Asa, not even his name, and anyway, there were only two living people in the big house, and as soon as the other opened his mouth, he knew he was talking to himself. On the contrary Sandro named the three wild cats that often came to the big house looking for something to eat. The two seemed like old friends of many years who had long ago worn out their mutual curiosity.

  All that mattered was that the daily magical studies and meditations drew all of his energy. Each day he could feel himself improving. From the simple art of stopping bleeding, to the true art of recovery, from the basics of using two fingers to hold a candle alight, to being able to cook a fish with his bare hands.

  He also found a dusty book from behind old man Sandru's bookshelf. The pages were made of a kind of leather, very old yet not the least bit damaged. It was a very strange book, from the table of contents on top it looked like it contained a staggering amount of magic as well as various skills related to magic, escapades. But other than the table of contents and the opening chapter therein on methods of meditation, it was all written in a script that Asa didn't recognize. Asa didn't bother to ask Sandru, he just practiced meditation every day according to the method written in the first chapter that he could understand.

  Every day, he studied, practiced, and meditated like this. He had been living this life of total immersion in his own progress since he was five years old, and for him it was a quiet, peaceful way of life. Everything came so naturally, without the slightest tension or intentionality. Asa had spent a month in this uneventful life full of corpses and chases without realizing it.

  It was always relaxing, and as time went by, one's senses seemed to melt into every detail of this life, no longer wanting to fluctuate or change. But he also knew that this was not possible, after all, some things can't end like this, he can't somehow be a fugitive for the rest of his life, can't live in the shadows for the rest of his life. Although there was nothing dangerous about it as it stood now, the one thing he couldn't stand was having something limiting him.

  And he couldn't let so many people die in vain on the hills of the western wilderness. Out of a strange intuition, Asa had a vague feeling that the report from his dukedom wasn't really where it should be.

  "Hey, go away, what's the fret?" Old man Sandro shoved a packet of his purchases at him. Asa took the stuff, buried his head and limped along.

  That night, after meditating, Asa was attracted by the light coming in through the window, and stepped out of the big house to see the second full moon as bright as the one he had ever seen in his life.

  It was exactly two months after the last time he had seen it, on the hill in the wilderness to the west. Again, the moon was soft, yet so bright that no star dared the sky to plunder its beauty. The moonlight ripped Asa's memory back to that time, to a night of killing.