…She guessed that the owner of these hands must be very old. "They are indeed all from Dawson Literary Society..." The duck voice behind the counter sounded again: "You want to take them away...Are you sure?" "determine." "Let me make it clear that if you choose to continue to store them here, no one can touch them without your permission." "But if you choose to take them away... then the moment you step out of the library, they will have nothing to do with us. No matter what fate they suffer, we will not help them." "…I'm sorry." Hitzfeld was stunned for a moment, "What do you want to remind me of?" Is this a threat? Or a warning? Suddenly, she thought of Alfred, the mysterious old man who suddenly appeared at the door of No. 221 and talked to her.
"If you insist on doing this..." The duck voice gradually lengthened. "Sorry, I just want to ask you something." Hitzfeld interrupted him. "I want to know if I can borrow books if I own this bookshelf." "No." The duck voice said affirmatively. "Because sovereignty is in your hands." "We cannot lend books to others without sovereignty, even if that person is the real owner of the book." "What if I check them out to the library first?" "..." This time, the duck voice was silent for a long time before giving a response. "I don't know. There has never been such an operation in the past." It has always been other people who deposit books in the library, or buy or borrow books from the library. This was the first time he encountered such a situation... Someone actually wanted to lend them his books? "That means the rules don't say you can't do it." Hitzfeld perked up. "That's the theory... Wait a minute, I need to ask for instructions." The drake paused. Hitzfeld stood behind the counter, waiting nervously. She heard a slight creaking sound coming from behind, like the sound of spring wind blowing through the treetops, and the sound of tree roots tangling in the soil after the rain. “They said yes.” The drake's voice sounded again.
"Okay, this requires two sets of borrowing procedures..." When everything was ready, Hitzfeld carried a bag made of brown paper, which contained the books she took away. Walking on the street, she couldn't help but curl up the corners of her mouth. Whether it is Mr. Coman’s warning or the living puppet that appeared on the fifth floor, everything indicates that the "Royal National Library" is likely to be a supernatural organization similar to the "Shadow Lion". She has confirmed that the lady deliberately asked her to come to Wayne Port to receive the inheritance of Dawson Literary Society. The reason why she did this was probably because she was being monitored. It is not convenient for her to come and get it herself. So Hitzfeld was asked to act as a stand-in. Then it is easy to infer that it is very likely that people from the "Shadow Lion" and the "Eclipse Church" are paying attention to this legacy. Alfred is the ironclad proof of this. He should be a member of some supernatural organization. He said he has lived in No. 222 for thirty-six years... This should be a lie. But they found her exactly as she arrived at the door of No. 221, and they had the key to the house. This shows that they are indeed concerned about this legacy, and have been doing so for more than forty years. They know everything. The only problem is that I don't have any proof, so I can't actually take the inheritance. And Hitzfeld…she didn’t know them. I don't know if they have any ill will towards her. The drake obviously knew something. But he obviously would not tell her the truth, and could only use very vague hints to warn her - if she took the book away now, she would most likely become a hunting target of the Supernatural Organization. "Being called 'Royal' means that the neutrality and authority of the library can be guaranteed, regardless of whether it is appointed by the Sara royal family or not." "Many people want the heritage, but the fact that the library can forcibly protect the heritage for forty years shows how powerful they are." "So... instead of taking the risk of taking the books away, I'd better lend them to them first. This will make me safer in Wayne Port..." Thinking back to the operation she had thought of on a whim, the girl felt somewhat smug. When she came to her senses from her joy, she realized she had gone too far. The station was missed. There were unfamiliar streets all around. "..." Hitzfeld silently passed the bag to his left hand, took out the Plankton from his skirt with his right hand, and gently pushed the safety open with his thumb.
The streets were empty. It was amazing. She was walking in a bustling downtown just a second ago, but after turning a corner and taking two more steps, the world, time and space suddenly changed. Looking back, the intersection disappeared. She was trapped here. "clatter……" "clatter……" Holding the pistol tightly, Hitzfeld began to move forward cautiously. The evening glow sprinkled on the cobblestone road, and her reflection was reflected in the window of the street shop. "clatter." The girl stopped and sniffed her nose slightly. The familiar smell of corpse. Suddenly, a dark shadow emerged from the uphill slope and stood there with its back to the setting sun. It's like a dog... and like a wolf. Its entire face was dark because of the backlight, and Hitzfeld couldn't help but squint his right eye, trying to see as clearly as possible. The clouds gradually blocked out the sunlight, and the creature's face gradually emerged from the shadows. It was a very grotesque face, with a vertical fork in the middle of the horizontally split lips. It slowly moved forward. At the same time, the grotesque face gradually split into four petals like a blooming flower, revealing a scarlet mouth and sharp teeth interlaced on the edges of the petals. Slit-mouthed wolf. Hitzfeld began to sweat on his back as he saw more and more shadows appearing on the slope. She suddenly felt that if she could return alive this time, she would definitely emphasize to her wife - The split-mouthed wolf is 100% a social being. Chapter 37: Rescued "..." The wind is howling. The sound of rapid breathing and footsteps came closer and closer. It was Hitzfeld hiding from the wolves. Unlike the last time when she had to deal with monsters in a secret room, this time there was a very vast space for her to play. But unfortunately, this time she was no longer in a 1v1 situation, not to mention that every enemy that came after her had two more legs than her.
"Huh...huh..." Hitzfeld ran as hard as he could for 15 seconds, and then he could hardly run anymore. She felt that the air was like a knife, being sucked into her lungs with her violent breathing, and then mercilessly searched through her body before being exhaled... She even wondered why there was no blood foam in the breath. What on earth is this place... The street seemed endless. She had been running for almost a hundred meters, but she still couldn't see the end. It was as if she was suddenly trapped in an endless street space, like a prey trapped in a cage with a ferocious beast. Physical strength has never been Hitzfeld’s strong suit. She realized there was no point in continuing to run. Not seeing the end meant that she couldn't escape from the space. Keep running would only burn up her remaining strength. By then, when facing the wolves, she wouldn't even have the strength to pull the trigger. Thinking of this, she looked back slightly. The wolves are still chasing. She looked hurriedly, and could only roughly distinguish that there were at least three wolves chasing her relentlessly. And there were also black shadows moving rapidly on the walls and roofs of the streets on both sides. Yes. She remembered the description she had read about the Slit-Mouth Wolf. Madame specifically said they can run on walls. "Huh...huh..." As if he had made some kind of decision, Hitzfeld gradually slowed down his pace and then stopped where he was. Her chest heaved as she threw the bag aside. She took off her eye mask with her left hand, revealing her dark golden eyes. A dark shadow rushing towards you is reflected in different perspectives. Hitzfeld fell backwards, holding the Prang knife in his right hand and aiming at the shadow's head. "boom!" Rotten blood splattered. The bullet hit the brain from the four open petals of the flower, pierced through the skull, rolled over and drilled a big hole in the skull. Then came the second and third black shadows. "boom!" "boom!" Keeping calm and maintaining a half-lying posture on the ground, the girl fired two steady shots, shooting the two demon wolves in the head again. Although the distance was short, three consecutive headshots were an exceptional performance.
"call……" Panting slightly, Hitzfeld knelt up with one hand on the ground, tilted his neck and carefully observed the buildings on both sides. Some magic wolves stuck their heads on the wall, growling softly from their scarlet mouths, and their eyes, which appeared from the cracks in their mouths, locked onto her. One, two... Hitzfeld silently counted the number of these monsters. There are at least seven more... no, eight!