"What conditions did you agree to?"
Ken asked.
After all, Ivan looked very arrogant. If the blacksmith had a contract with him, things would become very troublesome later.
"I paid back something."
Wachier spoke in a dull voice, and sometimes the listener needed to think before he could understand:
Ivan had given him potions several times, and in exchange, the blacksmith also made several special tools to prove his identity as a spiritual craftsman and his top craftsmanship.
"It's best not to owe each other anything."
Wachier's house in Duwa Village is a two-story brick house with an attic and a workshop.
There are shops on the street, with few customers, mainly dealing in sundries and raw materials. The fences are decorated with brass and wrought iron, and the bricks are engraved with totems to show the beliefs of the Duwa tribe.
The blacksmith pushed open the door embedded with steel bars.
The warm firelight illuminated the door railing, jumped out of the house, and showed the appearance of the guests.
Ken took the lead and walked up the stone steps, followed by everyone. Then everyone froze in place, not moving forward, and not knowing what to do.
There is no living room in Wachler's house.
After entering the door, you can directly see the furnace in the workshop.
The wall was broken through, and the shelves were full of everything from raw materials to finished products.
In a trance, it seemed as if I had entered a warehouse.
Wachler obviously also noticed the problem. He scratched the bump on his bald head and stepped on the stone bricks in front of the fireplace. With the familiar shaking, two exquisite stone tables rose up.
"Mother Winter, magical craftsmanship."
People who have not been to the depths of the workshop exclaimed in admiration.
Ken walked forward with interest. He wore black gloves and brushed across the scales of various sizes on the table.
They use copper patterns to divide the fine carving area and the rework area. They can process wood, stone and metal at the same time. The number of tools in the secret compartment is probably more than the spoons in the tavern kitchen.
"This originally belongs to the category of spiritual craftsmen. The objects we make are more meaningful than weapons."
Wachier put his hands behind his back, his eyes wide open, as if he was angry, but in fact he was just not used to having a few more people in his house.
He blew his beard and walked closer to the wall, taking out various cups from the grooves.
Although they were not as beautiful as those made by [pot and bowl makers] and [tinkers], they all had their own unique features. Either the materials were very special, or the shapes and functions were very interesting, such as the round-bellied cup that could be brewed by pouring tea bags and cold water.
Compared with the other top blacksmiths, Wachier lived a much poorer life.
Spiritual craftsmen did not touch weapons. It seemed that they were naturally eccentric. They did not often appear in the bustling and lively market, nor did they go to places of pleasure where lust was rampant.
Riders and scholars surrounded the wall, marveled at it, and seemed to be in high spirits even if they could not get started.
Ken put down his teacup, stood up and walked to the stairs. Wachler, who had been standing here for a long time, had a tangled expression. He hesitated several times but did not speak. He walked ahead with his head down and led the way.
The stairs were polished by the soles of shoes, and the corners that were not often stepped on were full of damp dirt.
The wooden structure in this house has not been maintained and cleaned for many years, but no "creaking" sound was heard when stepping on any step.
Wachler turned into the corner with a solemn expression.
The corridor was short, with a brass disc hanging at the end. There was a lamp under the iron sheet, and the candlelight dyed the two doors dim.
He held the handle on the right, paused, and looked back at the young man behind him.
[The blacksmith opened the door of his apprentice's room, and the darkness and the smell of medicine leaked out, and there seemed to be the sound of metal colliding. ]
Ken's expression did not change, but he sighed faintly.
Clang——
The iron chain was stretched straight.
Wachier lighted the candlestick with heavy breathing, the flame was shaking violently, a struggling figure was imprinted on the blood-stained wall, with sealed windows on both sides.
Kane finally saw Arthur.
The other party's eyes kept flickering, there was no spirit in them, only bloodshot and madness, with a protective gear in his mouth to protect his tongue and teeth, the whole person was locked to the bed, struggling and twisting.
[Character: Arthur]
[Attitude: (71% infection by the hunter)]
[Identity: Blacksmith]
[Seriously injured by the undead creature, if you don't do something, it will be difficult to survive for two days. ]
Wachier's eyelids were deep, and he was stunned for a while facing his apprentice.
Hunter is the most taboo thing in the entire Oshua continent. If the degree is mild, taking potions can recover, but if it is serious to a certain extent, you can only ask for help from specific professions.
Every large tribe will cultivate such talents.
Wachier is a spirit craftsman, and the customers he knows have no say.
During the winter in the North, the tribes stayed at home and their towns were far away from home. It was impossible to rush over to ask for help in a short time.
He looked to the right uneasily, hoping for a little hope.
Ken's boots stepped over the black and moldy food, stepped on a white scratch, and came to Arthur.
Fierce face, turbid saliva.
"Please go out and close the door."
"I... OK."
Wachier could see that the young man was not afraid. His tone was calm and firm, revealing a reassuring power.
"I haven't said my conditions yet."
The blacksmith just held the wooden door and heard the other party's voice again.
"If Arthur recovers, I hope to take him away. This matter is not forced. We can discuss it later."
Ken squatted in place, and his emotions could not be seen from his back.
His idea was simple. Santon Kaya would definitely build a blacksmith shop, which would require manpower. The fewer people who knew that he could treat the [Fallen Hunting State], the better.
Kill two birds with one stone.
Wachler stood in the warm light at the door for a long time, did not answer, and slowly closed the door.
The gap closed, and there was silence all around.
Ken raised his arm. After this journey, he had accumulated enough experience points. It was difficult to clear the negative state, and the consumption caused was several times more than ordinary treatment.
Green light overflowed from his fingers.
Of course, only he could see it.
The stream of experience points dispersed and entered from Arthur's eye sockets and ears. After a while, faint lines appeared on Arthur's body, spreading along the veins to his limbs.
There were scratches on his right foot.
At this time, it had turned black and rotten, emitting a foul smell. The fluorescence gathered on it, driving the black smoke out, and there was even a sizzling sound.
"Mmmm, mmm."
Arthur closed his eyes tightly and collapsed on the floor, twitching.
He kept whimpering, and the damaged muscles were reorganized and connected, bringing unimaginable pain.
Ken had experienced it many times, and he dared not say that he was completely adapted.
Wachler's bald head pressed against the wooden door, and his right arm holding the door handle kept shaking, his heart full of regret. If he had accepted Ivan's proposal earlier, perhaps it would have been solved long ago.
Hunting is a problem that troubles the entire continent.
Ken is too young, perhaps, he should not have made a pointless attempt, what if he damaged his already fragile body?
He panicked.
No longer hesitating, he pushed open the door.