"What do we do now?
"I don't know. Wait until Boss Grenn comes back."
...
After being knocked out, Alan hears the sellsword's conversation in a daze and opens his eyes. Alan can only see some faint light, but his eyes seem to be covered with a piece of red. The blood left from his forehead congeals on his eyelids, making everything in front of Alan with blood.
Alan did not stay faint for long and was soon awakened by fits of pain. And the pain wasn't just in the back of the head, it was in the hands. The pain in the back of the head came from tearing, and the needles in the hands were sharp. Alan was tired and trapped. He could only try to move his fingers and felt the sticky liquid in the needles. I think his hands were tied behind his back and stuck in the bed.
'Ellen! 'whispered Wood, seeing Alan awake.
It took Alan a few seconds to realize that it was Wood's voice, and he turned his head reluctantly against the pain all over him.
"Can you use Arcane arts? Now." There was urgency in Wood's voice.
At this Alan seemed to react, and began to chant in a low voice: 'Up... Yan... Ah!!" There was no doubt that the recitation was interrupted by sharp pain, and Alan let out a low growl, unrestrained by the strong stimulus. A prickling sensation in his hands interrupted Alan's release of the Arcane, and he could not concentrate. He could not bear to read more than a few words. Not to mention, the newly healed wound on the back of the head opens up again, forcing Arcane energy to invoke and cause severe vertigo.
At the sound of the roar, the two sellsword soldiers jumped down from the surrounding fungus with a laugh of playfulness. "Don't struggle, son. You've been wounded so badly, don't die." Turning his head, "And you nerdy! If you want to run away, just..." The sellsword makes a knife motion across the neck, suggesting execution!
Alan made no reply but was silent to recover his strength. The words were full of naked menace, and if Alan had not been so wounded that the Arcane could not be released, how could two fighters dare to be so bold in the presence of the Arcane? Life and death when the tiger fell Pingyang is this tragic end!
The sellsword, for all its arrogance, was a little confused. Misjudged the strength of the Grand Arcane, and the Sellsword attack failed. The Archarcane must not be allowed to slow down, or one Archarcane will kill them all! With that in mind, Grenn would chase the Decos, leaving them stranded. They did not know what to do, but under Luan Zhuo's command, Alan and Wood were tied up until Grenn came back. As to whether Grenn would ever come back... They think they can. Is there a shortage of Arcane Artsmen in their leader's hands? The Arcane is weaker than the rest of us if we seize the opportunity!
For the former employer in the eyes of Allen, Luan Zhuo is not a bit lenient. Wood was patted down and tied up; Alan's hands were completely restrained, tied behind his back in the stout tree, with several knots, and inserted directly into the bed of fungus. Not just your hands, but your entire upper limbs, they're locked up and you can't move.
"The boy has a different accent. He hasn't used a windblade since he came in. He's probably a fireball." This was the conclusion of an old mercenary, who suggested that Alan's hands be pressed into a bed of germs.
The beds were so corrosive that they quickly penetrated the skin and began to eat away at the muscles, and Alan could not do the spell under the constant sting of his hands. To say the least, even if the Fireball is successfully unleashed, there is no air in the bed to support the fire, and the summoned flame will quickly extinguish. One more step back, and even if Alan had been playing pig and tiger, and a ball of fire had gone up into the sky, at least it would have caused a stir, and the guards would have come to their senses with a single stab... With Ellen's little body, everything goes away!
Thus the Arcane, who had seen through his cards, was completely subdued.
Tired of the scolding, the sellswords returned to their posts, leaving Alan and Wood under the mushroom tree.
Undaunted by his defeat, Alan began to recite spells, syllable-by-syllable, based on his memory of the Wind Blade. Abel and others had whispered the Windblade incantations into his ear countless times, but it would have been useless for Alan to have memorized all the notes. It was not the weight, the pitch, or the rhythm of a spell that mattered most. It was the state of mind at which the spell was uttered that made it resonate with energy, or it would have had no effect at all. If it wasn't for that, wouldn't the Arcane even have to avoid others?
There is, of course, reverse deciphering in implantology, but it is rarely useful and extremely difficult to learn. This was why Alan was so shocked when he first met Abel and realized that he had dabbled in deciphering!
'Ellen, don't bother.' Several times Alan's spell was interrupted, and once he managed to finish it, but it had no effect at all. Wood saw it in his heart and told Alan to stop trying. "The Windblade family of spells has been perfected for decades, and you can't break it."
"We won't know until we try." Alan heard Wood's voice amid his whirls. It was too difficult to exert Arcane energy with a brain injury.
"It's no use." Wood let out a long sigh to the sky, which seemed to be fulfilled in an instant. Alan let out a low growl, and the pain again broke the curse. Then Alan's voice trailed off, and only his chapped lips could be seen opening and closing like a dried fish.
Unbeknownst to Wood, Alan lowered his head into a state he had never experienced before. Alan's eyes focused on the only fixed point in the whirling world. Fungus, mushroom tree, guard... Everything was spinning backward, getting smaller and farther away, and gradually losing sight of everything in the peripheral vision.
Instead, Alan saw the green creeping in from the end of his field of vision, devouring the mushroom trees, devouring enemies, and even... It swallowed what was left of Alan's mind! Soon Alan seemed to see only the faint green of fire and fluorescence in his eyes. That was the color of the beds of the fungus, the green of the grim and fearful after countless people had been buried.
Alan was still repeating the Windblade mantra, but the simple Epigraph was so eerily melodic that it was chilling. The fungus that had been eating away at Alan's hands seemed to have stopped stinging the Arsorcerer's nerves and turned to probing and rubbing, but Alan's senses were too much obscured by the verdure to feel the change.
As Alan's voice grew louder and louder, it finally caught Wood's attention: "Ai..." Wood had barely uttered a word when he was startled by what he saw. The young Arcane seemed to be in a state of ecstasy, chanting Windblade spells and occasionally breaking out in a language he did not understand at all. Alan's pupils were dilated and the highlights were no longer distinct, just as they had been a few days before when Wood had comforted him. Alan's whole body heaved up and down, and he could even see the blood flow in the veins of his neck, pulse after pulse, like a swarm of locusts.
"Help!" Wood was horrified at this and, regardless of the risk of provoking the rebellious sellsword, cried out for help. Alan's in critical condition, full Arcane energy racing through his body, a sign of a runaway overload! Wood, after all, came from a long family. He had seen family Arcane in such situations and had learned to deal with them urgently, but only if the Sellsword freed him!
By the time Luan Zhuo arrived, Wood had failed to explain the arcane Toumenseller. when wood tried to free him, he was forced to take him with a knee kick.
Wood's stomach had been punched so hard that a technician could not bear it. He could not even cough up, and the saliva from the corners of his mouth hung in his mouth, unable to suck it back. The Sellsword dealt with Alan in the same way, a knee kick to the chin and Alan wilted, but the incursion never stopped. When the two men stopped talking, the Sellsword returned grinning to wait for their Lord Grenn.
Wood was dead in his heart, and it was only chance that Alan would recover after this time. And even if they do, they might have a hangover.
Alan did not feel that much, but he felt the dark green of the bed of fungus turn to dark green, and then suddenly it was shattered, and the green in his eyes softened and became clear. Alan's incantations went on and on, until the end of the eerily toned Windblade, Alan suddenly, as if having an apocalypse, inserted an unexpected word: It gurgled, and there it was!
Suddenly there was a definite flow of energy around Alan, towards Alan's hands where the liquid had been inserted. The bacteria liquid at hand slowly rolled, slowly out of the liquid surface, and slowly began to tremble! The tremors grew faster, and the liquid rose higher and higher until it formed the shape of a dagger! Just a gentle pick, the mercenaries into a knot was a knife into the bacteria liquid cut open!
There was no one around to feel the wave of energy, they could only hear Alan singing like a roar and a sudden gust of wind around them. The wind was still palpable to Wood at a distance, and as for the Sellwords miles away, it had long since been lost in the wet, sticky environment of the fungus.
'What's that boy howling about? One of the guards, seeing that Alan had just been silenced, began to sing again, and was so angry that he tried to jump down for another kick, but was stopped by his companion.
"Well, the boy's in such a state, you can make him sing. By the way, do you think he's singing anything remotely familiar?"
"From McCabe! Can't you remember the folk songs you've heard hundreds of times?"