Bear School Astartes Chapter 382. Who are you

Chapter 382: 382. Who are you

After the people from Yusefka Clinic ca to Oton Chapel, it seed like they tidied up the place.

This previously unnoticed edge chapel started to have so popularity.

"Was your journey safe? I see you haven’t shown any signs of resting yet."

Lann began a casual conversation with Henrik.

The previous topic was both too distant and too professional.

If Henrik’s experience wasn’t truly long-standing, he definitely wouldn’t have had so much information to share with Lann.

The evolution of the Hunter profession in Yan’an can generally be divided into three stages.

The formation of the profession, the era when Hunters were seen as heroes, and now, hunting quietly in the eerie alleys or recklessly spilling blood on the night of the hunt.

Even that hero era is sothing from a long ti ago.

The Old Hunter put on his dirt-yellow tricorn hat again, covering his M-shaped hairline.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but Lann always felt a bit annoyed when glancing at his own hair.

Thus, he deliberately ruffled his silvery strands, glowing under the candlelight, as a test.

From the other’s eyes, he got a confird answer.

Honestly, he thought Henrik didn’t need to worry so much about the hairline, as Yan Nan People liked to wear various hats, it wouldn’t be noticeable at all.

Henrik tilted his head under the mask, mumbling a couple of tis, pretending not to care.

"Hunters need to be vigilant at all tis, and nearby isn’t very safe."

"Hmm?" Lann was a bit surprised, "What’s going on? Is the incense not enough?"

The Old Hunter chuckled coldly, beginning to draw his Hunter’s Pistol from his waist, checking the components, and loading rcury bullets.

"Incense can repel beasts, but it’s useless against other things."

"The hunters from Yahagul have begun appearing around here. Their reputation in Yan’an is disreputable. Rather than hunting beasts, their main business is trafficking humans; the profits from capturing humans are far greater than hunting beasts."

"I wandered around the Church Square nearby, and found unusual hunting traces in the corners. The level of blood splatter is too abnormal even among hunters, and those patients’ flesh is like decoration, ostentatious, decadent, and flamboyant... there is no doubt, the surviving Bloodline from Cainhurst also ca here tonight for fun. They are keen on hunting Hunters, seeking sothing only they can find in the blood Hunters shed."

Lann listened for a while, only to feel that Yan’an is truly a small place with many affairs.

"Brother, these people and forces you ntioned, I’ve never even seen them. Even if I did, I basically couldn’t tell them apart. I’m a foreigner in Yan’an, rember? Strictly speaking, I only arrived here last night."

"I rember clearly."

Henrik’s plain tone carried habitual decisiveness, just like his hunting skills.

"And I also suggest you ignore my earlier complaints, and forget those nas you have never encountered... leave at dawn, Lann."

"Yan’an is a lousy swamp; though it’s my inseparable, undesired holand, since we fought side by side for two nights, I must tell you the truth. I hope you quickly escape from this swamp, the further you go, the better."

"Staying here... won’t end well. These monsters, these strange people, they have nothing to do with you. You owe us nothing, it’s us who owe you, Lann."

"Why do I feel you want

to leave tonight?"

"If possible, I would admit it. The earlier you leave, the safer you will be."

The Old Hunter’s eyes were caught between the tricorn hat and the mask, earnestly watching the young man ruffling his hair.

"Even if only the two of you are left to guard this place?"

Henrik wasn’t surprised at Lann’s retort.

"I discussed it with Gascogne, precisely as I said: you owe us nothing."

The young man chuckled helplessly.

"Alright, I accept your suggestion, I’ll leave as soon as possible. But I have to wait for daylight, right? The wilderness of Yan’an is probably even more unsafe than the city."

At least, he must determine what exactly is this power that petrified the night.

The Old Hunter looked at Lann for a while, finally nodding.

"Hope you won’t forget this piece of advice."

Henrik continued to lower his head, arranging his Hunter’s gear.

The instant lethality of Transformable Weapon is noteworthy, but the complex gear structure often accumulates solidified beast blood and hair.

No Hunter wishes for the chanism of their Transformable Weapon to jam midway during a hunt.

Such a death sounds foolish enough.

Lann walked away from Henrik, greeted the elderly woman in the red robe, then went to the side door of the small chapel.

In this endless night of hunting, conversing with friendly humans relaxed Lann’s mind.

As he reached the side door of the small chapel, he unexpectedly saw a sowhat familiar figure.

A cloak resembling bird feathers and the bird-beak mask on the face.

It was the Crow Hunter, Erin.

A Hunter who exclusively hunts mad Hunters. Sounds like there might be so overlap with the business of the Cainhurst Bloodline Henrik ntioned, but Lann believes there’s no intention of cooperation between them.

She was also one of the few individuals in this long night who remained acutely aware of the distortion in ti flow.

Lann walked over, intending to gather so intelligence and experience.

But before the Demon Hunter could speak, the usually taciturn Crow Hunter began talking first.

"I’ve never seen this kind of situation, are you called... Lann?"

After the young man nodded in confirmation, the equally aged female Hunter continued.

"The Gascogne family never survived, I’ve tried not too many tis, but quite a few; yet the result remains as I’ve ntioned. Maybe I haven’t found the right thod?"

"After Gascogne and Viola died in the cetery at our feet, Henrik, who originally agreed to et him here, went mad as well. I died in his hands three or four tis to let him rest, it was only after the last few tis that I understood his habits before I cleared him. He was a bona fide Old Hunter. Decisive, precise, and fierce."

The Crow Hunter admired the Old Hunter’s exquisite skill, although he did not remain conscious in the repetition of ti, it didn’t affect his combat prowess.

For Erin herself, discussing her own death was as mundane as narrating a fictional story.

As ti rewinds repeatedly, those who stay clear-headed within it tend to undergo psychological mutation due to this unimaginable environnt.

Lann doubted that even if ti started moving forward again, Erin would still cherish her own remaining life.

After relating her previous experiences, the bird-beak mask of the Crow Hunter finally turned to Lann’s face.

Her tone carried a discernible sense of anticipation.

"This ti is different, Lann."

"Only with you involved, did so many changes occur!"

"Who on earth are you?!"