Why don't you have the aura of a curse on you

My kindness infected it

The half bull headed man didn't go into detail and took the initiative to explain the reason why he wasn't affected: "Dirty bloodline allows me to avoid magic tricks

Is making so many people have nightmares just a trick

No one was hurt because of this. "The half bull headed man noticed that Annan had a noble appearance and was not as familiar with the outside world as a child.

Aren't you going to tell them

Then, Annan heard the half bull's head shaking his ankle cuffs.

I am a slave, "the half bull headed man threw away the charcoal, handed the thin wooden board to Annan, and stood up.

Is this for me

Annan gladly accepted the wooden lead painting and said, "Thank you

The footsteps of the half bull headed man paused briefly due to Annan's thanks and walked into the continuously chaotic camp.

Its experience reminded Annan of himself a week ago. If it weren't for Aunt Susan, his condition wouldn't have been much better.

This kind of empathy almost made Annan want to buy the Half Tauren, but a barely surviving person is not qualified to help others.

Carrying the drawing board back to the hut, Martin had already crouched by the basket and started eating.

Still black bread and sour salted peas.

Although mining earns twice as much money as a tavern, the food is so poor that Annan thought of begging for a few days.

Swallowing breakfast, Annan and his pride walked into the gold mine, facing Martin's gaze in astonishment.

But as soon as he entered, Annan pulled Martin into the fork in the road mine only a few tens of meters away from the exit.

The intermittent clanging sound of iron pickaxes continued from morning to afternoon, and Annan and Martin came out carrying baskets.

The good news is that we haven't encountered ghosts, and the bad news is that we haven't encountered gold mines either.

On the last day... come on the last day again

Carrying an empty blue, Old Zolon muttered something, like a gambler who had gone headfirst.

Annan doesn't care, he even plans to write another letter, even though he doesn't have many words left.

To:

Cute ghosts, I long for your ○ and hope you can allow me to enter the depths - from miners who want ○○

Checking the finished papyrus, drawing circles made him blush a bit, but he really didn't know the vocabulary and couldn't write it vaguely.

Stick the papyrus on the door, blow out the oil lamp, and slowly fall asleep.

At midnight, three illusory ghosts quietly floated out of the gold mine and dispersed like last night.

One of the contours bypasses the door and enters the hut through the wall. It hovered at the feet of the sleeping person, suddenly attracted by the thin wooden board on the bedside table.

Thick and thin graffiti with ghostly portraits of lead paint presented in the dim moonlight.

The pale veil lifted the painting board and made a soft "bang" sound as it crashed into the door. It emerged from the crack of the door, and the wind lifted the papyrus, rushing into the night.

……

Thick darkness pervades, eerie shadows and rustling sounds resound, evil and terrifying conspiracies echo, occasionally turning into treacherous smirks.

At some point, a silhouette lifted the drawing board.

After the whispers of hatred, evil, and darkness, they pasted lead paintings in their cozy little nests.