The wooden house wasn’t particularly sturdy; in the damp environment of the forest, it simply couldn’t be.
When Lann first placed his hand on the eaves of the roof, the sound of cracking wood was already heard.
However, the effect of the Light Body Skill, which increased the body’s buoyancy in the air, played a crucial role. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel·fire.net
It was only after Lann flipped himself onto the roof that the wooden plank at the edge truly broke.
Three beastification gunmen with bone marrow ash at their waists began twisting their stiff joints, pointing their guns at the person on the roof.
The three gunmen had different stances, and their firing intervals were different as well.
In the demon hunter’s retina, Mentos marked each gunman with different colors representing different threat levels according to their firing timing.
The one with the darkest color not only had loaded bullets but was nearly done aiming the muzzle.
It wasn’t the sound of gunfire, but the sound of the beastified gunman falling backward!
When he jumped onto the roof, Lann held onto the broken piece of wood.
The piece of wood, heavy and swollen from absorbing the moisture in the forest, became a weapon.
So much so that when the wood block hit the face of the beastified gunman, the withered muscles and hair on the face twisted like waves.
The yellow-toothed, blood-smeared teeth in its mouth were shattered, and the rifle it was holding slipped from its grip.
The gunman with the second-highest threat level was pinned to the forehead by a flying knife.
And in the blink of an eye, after completing a series of actions to ’flip onto the roof and clear out two gunmen’,
the third gunman finally managed to load his rifle with silver bullets.
But just as it was about to turn its muzzle around...
In heavy armor, a tall and robust figure had already charged right in front of it.
Without even drawing a blade, the boot with overlapped plate armor kicked the rifle and the beastified gunman together.
The metal barrel of the rifle bent into a V-shape, and the wooden body of the gun splintered into shards and splinters.
Meanwhile, the hairy gunman, like an overly light ragdoll, was kicked straight off the rooftop.
You could hear the sound of its ribs breaking in mid-air.
There was a stone protruding from the soil at the spot where it landed on the ground, and after a few "crackles" of bones breaking wrapped in flesh, the beastified gunman lay twitching weakly on the rock.
Henrik was already entangled below with other beastified patients.
The old hunter skillfully began to elongate the battle line, allowing himself to engage only one enemy at a time, ensuring the safety of his flanks and rear in combat.
The hunters of Yan’an had long discarded their armor; they couldn’t, like the demon hunters, wear a layer of armor underneath and another layer of Quen outside.
Lann, with interest, picked up the rifle from the ground, and after a few trial clicks, quickly adapted to this vintage firearm.
With the sound of gunfire ringing out on the rooftop, a beastified patient, mouth agape as it charged Henrik, had its head blown open as if struck by an invisible hammer.
After the initial shock, Henrik quickly adjusted his mindset and, cooperating with the rooftop gunfire, swiftly exterminated this group of beastified patients.
"How was it? My shooting wasn’t bad, was it?"
Once the forest fell silent again, Lann, half-squatting at the roof’s edge, supported himself with the rifle and smiled at Henrik below.
Panting for a while, then rapidly returning to normal, the old hunter adjusted his tricorn hat, a sign of old-fashioned gentlemanly manners.
"Good shooting, Lann. But have you ever considered..."
The old hunter crossed his arms, looked up at the young man above, squinting his eyes.
"That you could just pull me up to enjoy the high ground advantage too, without having to..."
As he spoke, Henrik stomped on the head of a not-yet-dead beastified patient on the ground, quieting it down.
"...without having to roll around in the mud with these ’fellows’?"
The young man smiled innocently, "My bad, I thought you were enjoying it with them."
Henrik helplessly pressed his tricorn hat, trying hard not to pay attention to the smiling face.
The old hunter collected the bone marrow ash from the beastified gunmen and put it in his pouch.
But he didn’t take any of the silver bullets.
According to him, the power of silver bullets comes from the blood within.
This blood has a mystical connection with its owner, and after death, the blood mixed into the silver bullets will lose its effect over time.
If someone knowledgeable takes over immediately after the bullet’s owner dies, perhaps three out of ten silver bullets can retain their potency.
But by the time Henrik went to collect the spoils, it was undoubtedly too late.
So he didn’t replenish a single bullet.
After passing this small village, half of the Forbidden Forest path was already traversed.
Henrik led Lann up an elevator that looked overgrown with weeds.
Similar to the design within Yan City, there was a switch in the middle that could be activated by stepping on it.
Although to Lann’s mechanical knowledge, placing such a complex structure within a thin wooden board was unscientific.
But since academic institutions like Byron Vis, with leading figures researching Spiritual Vision, it’s understandable that the elevator disregards mechanical principles.
When the elevator rose and stopped firmly, unexpectedly, Lann and Henrik encountered a living individual with his sanity intact.
He wore a uniform resembling a 19th-century London sheriff’s uniform, a deep-blue sheriff’s uniform with a light blue short cape draped over the shoulders.
On his head, oddly enough, was an iron bucket.
It was literally an iron bucket without a handle, with just a small hole gouged out for the left eye.
This limited, narrow vision left Lann puzzled about how the person survived in this perilous environment.
"Walter? You’re here too?"
Lann couldn’t help but glance behind him, surprised that Henrik actually knew this person.
And the man referred to as Walter also greeted Henrik in a muffled voice through the iron bucket helmet.
After shaking hands, the two exchanged a brief conversation.
This man in the sheriff’s uniform was a leader of the Hunter Alliance, of which Henrik was also a member.
The meaning of such alliances differed from Church Hunters or ordinary hunters and did not represent their clientele.
Unlike the ’factions’ within hunters divided by weaponry style, they didn’t care what tools you used.
After some listening, Lann realized this alliance seemed to be formed based on different hunting targets.
Walter’s alliance members focused on hunting an invisible entity, a ’bug’ lurking within the human heart.
The complexity of a hunter’s identity expanded Lann’s understanding.
Take Henrik for instance; he was an ordinary hunter not directly serving the Church, undoubtedly a ’Saw Meat Hunter’ by style. And by hunting targets, he prioritized the ’bug’ mentioned in the alliance pact.
Henrik wasn’t too keen on chatting with his alliance leader for long.
He didn’t even ask further why Walter was in the Forbidden Forest or which path he took.
He hurriedly bid farewell to Walter with Lann and left.