Hoffa pointed to the newspaper: "Is it related to that key?"

Both of them were silent.

"Say it!" Hoffa asked angrily.

Osivia said unceremoniously: "Don't worry about this."

Hoffa turned his head and looked at Silby, but Silby sat there expressionlessly and said nothing.

Without any answer, Sylby, who had always been very eloquent, seemed to suddenly become a dull gourd.

Hoffa gritted his teeth and threw the newspaper aside.

There must be something that they knew that only he didn't know. While he was curious, he also felt a little panicked.

Wizards are shot dead one after another. What is going on?

However, now is not the time to dwell on this.

After getting on the train, fatigue began to pour into my brain, both physical and mental.

He started meditating.

Every time Cho'gall's conversion technique is used up, Hoffa must use meditation to restore the magic power, and the newly restored magic power will be converted into life to maintain the balance of the body.

...

The train rumbled forward, not very fast. The three people were swaying in the carriage.

Osilvia has been studying the newspaper, while Hofa has been meditating on the magic lost in fight and flight.

Four hours later, the sky gradually turned to dusk.

The three of them took an old-fashioned train and entered the wilderness of Spain, which is the endless plain of Valencia.

The Valencia plain is adjacent to the Mediterranean Sea. There are a large number of orange trees planted in the wilderness. Looking all the way, you can see the green color. Mixed with the setting sun, it is like a scene in an oil painting.

But no matter how beautiful the scenery was, it could not stop Hoffa from being physically and mentally exhausted. After the meditation, he was still unusually tired.

The reason is that he hasn't had a good sleep for almost three days. Driving like crazy and running away after being chased by a gangster, this kind of fatigue cannot be eliminated even by meditation.

Finally, in the dusk on the Valencian plains, Hoffa leaned on his seat and fell into a deep sleep.

As if he had just fallen asleep, he was awakened by a rapid breathing sound.

When I opened my eyes, everything was pitch black.

It was late at night.

There was an extremely depressing sound in my ears.

Hoffa turned around, but was startled by the scene in front of him.

Sylby's bloodshot eyes were staring at herself.

In the dark carriage, his face was as pale as paper. His nose was opening and closing forcefully, and his lips were biting tightly, as if he was trying his best to suppress his breathing.

Hoffa initially thought that he was pretending to be sick again, but when he touched his forehead, there was no warmth at all, instead it was like a solid piece of ice.

This symptom is like an overdraft of magic power. If you touch the other person's heart, his heartbeat is very weak, as if it is swaying like a candle in the wind.

But then my breathing became more and more painful and difficult.

Hoffa immediately turned over and sat up, and saw Sylby biting his lip until it bled.

"Hello......"

"Hello......"

"What’s wrong with you?"

Hoffa had no idea how to deal with this situation.

Silby didn't speak, but looked at Hoffa with wide eyes.

Something happened, Hoffa secretly thought it was wrong, and he immediately wanted to wake up Osivia who was sleeping in the single seat on the left.

But Silby looked at Hoffa imploringly with bloodshot eyes.

"Don't......"

"Don't...I'm...bored..."

Silby gently squeezed out a few words through her teeth.

stuffy?

Hoffa felt it a little bit.

really.

There are so many people in this carriage that there is indeed a strong smell of carbon dioxide.

Without daring to hesitate, Hoffa immediately picked up the trembling Sylby into the wheelchair and quickly pushed him out.

Finally, when Hoffa led him outside the first-class carriage at the front of the train, Silby breathed a little fresh air, which was the breeze coming from the exhaust fan above the first-class seat.

After arriving here, Silby was still breathing painfully, but his condition was slightly better than before.

Seeing that he was still breathing, Hoffa simply stopped doing nothing.

He took out the wand and transformed it into a sharp knife.

He directly inserted the sharp knife into the slot on the glass window of the green leather train and forcefully pried open the glass.

At this moment, the fresh air carrying the fragrance of oranges came in like a tide.

Silby's pale hair was blown by the wind, and his whole body relaxed like a salted fish in water.

"call!"

"call!"

"call....."

Silby closed his eyes, took a few greedy breaths of fresh air, and calmed down. He stopped moving, Hoffa put his finger on his chest, and his heart gradually returned to normal beating.

After a long time, he opened his eyes and murmured weakly.

"Thank you, Hoffa."

"Hmm." Hoffa looked at his watch. It was five o'clock in the morning. He had slept for a full hour. God knows how long Silby had been gasping for breath in his seat.

"Can you push me closer? I want to get more wind," Silby said.

Hoffa followed his instructions and moved his wheelchair closer to the window. The night breeze brought by the train blew up all of Silby's hair, revealing his pale, sculpture-like side face. For some reason, Hoffa moved under his

There was an inexplicable familiarity on his face.

Inside the car, the dim and ancient tungsten light tubes flickered, and Silby's wheelchair slowly swayed with the car.

At this moment, the train is passing through the coastal city of Valencia in Spain. Outside the window, you can see the night view of the Spanish city like a fleeting light.

Old-fashioned street lamps, a decadent poet lying by the river, a musician sitting on the flower bed playing the guitar, and a couple cuddling together for warmth on the river bank.

But soon, the train left the city and entered the deserted wilderness again.

Sudden.

Silby turned to Hoffa and said, "Can you feel it?"

"What do you feel?" Hoffa asked.

“The decadence beneath this country’s prosperity.”

"I can't feel it," Hoffa said dryly.

"They say Spain is the real Spain after midnight. I didn't believe it before, but now it seems to be true."

Silby said.

Hoffa couldn't continue. He didn't know much about Europe.

After a while, Hoffa asked: "What happened to you just now? Is it some disease?"

"It's not really a disease, it's just that sometimes I feel like a zombie, a piece of frozen meat."

The train passed over a stone bridge. Silby looked at the river under the bridge and said slowly:

"Sometimes I feel like I am slowly rotting away in a wheelchair and growing slowly at the same time. This contradictory illusion can cause great pain.

Although I have no touch, my brain still feels pain. This is an abnormal physiological mechanism. Psychiatrists call this a phantom limb. Some people say that this pain is just a phantom pain. But I know that this is not the case.

I'm cursed."

Hoffa didn't know how to deal with this, so out of instinct, he covered Sylby's blanket more tightly.

"Are you sympathizing with me?" Silby asked suddenly.

Hoffa said softly: "Not really."

"The strong do not need sympathy, this is the motto of our family." Silby said.

"But you need help, that's a fact." Hoffa said calmly.

"If you want to help, there is a cigarette under the wheelchair. Could you please help me take it out?"

Hoffa bent down, and sure enough, there was a small secret compartment under the wheelchair. There were magazines, candies, some drugs, and even a gun.

In the deepest part, Hoffa saw a silver cigarette box.
To be continued...