The witchers came and dealt a devastating blow to the manor. Shermans' guards were no match for the witchers. The older guards vaguely knew who these people were. They were terrified and some even began to flee in defeat.
But this was a massacre, and the demon hunters were not going to let anyone leave. As Shermans said, many people fled to the railway outside the grass field, trying to climb onto a passing train to leave, but there was no shelter on the open ground.
Corpses fell one after another, and blood mixed with the falling rain flooded over the green grass, as if even the heavens were saddened by the massacre.
Lorenzo stopped while running madly and looked out the window. Heavy rain was falling and a light mist was rising. He could see the fire burning in the manor and the dead bodies outside the manor. There were witchers getting caught in the rain. They were like ghosts with nowhere to go, wandering around and cleaning up all the people who tried to escape. There were sporadic gunshots, and it seemed that the remaining guards were resisting stubbornly.
Lorenzo shifted his gaze back, hid the hand holding the lacquered tin flying knife in the dark, held the nail sword in the other hand, and put the remaining folding knives on his waist. It seemed that this battle would take a long time.
There were footsteps, and not only that, there were some other sounds mixed in. Lorenzo leaned against the wall vigilantly, ready to attack. The moment the enemy arrived, he could throw out the lacquered tin flying knife, and continue to chase the enemy during the explosion until they were completely incapacitated.
The door on the other side of the corridor was pushed open, but just as Lorenzo was about to throw the knife, he saw the man clearly. It was Jager. He was leaning on a crutch with one hand and holding a pistol in the other. His body was covered in blood and had many wounds. No one knew how he, with a lame leg, survived the witcher's attack.
He looked extremely miserable, his face was pale, and blood was running down his crutch.
Jager and Lorenzo were looking at each other from both sides of the corridor. Jager was frightened at first, but the fear quickly disappeared. He raised the pistol with one hand and pointed it at Lorenzo.
In any case, Yager did not expect Lorenzo to appear here. The chase in the rat's nest made Yager realize that he was definitely no match for Lorenzo. He was doomed, but he still raised his gun stubbornly.
"Lorenzo!"
An old voice sounded, and Shermans came over from the other side. Surprisingly, the old guy didn't run far.
His appearance eased the tense atmosphere a little. Yager was stunned at first, looking at the old man who looked a little sad with some disbelief.
Shermans was in a terrible condition now, with multiple sword wounds and burns on his body. The swollen blisters had shriveled up and wrinkled together, sticking to his old face like tree bark.
The pure white robe was also burned, and the remaining part was soaked in blood. If no one knew him, no one would associate him with the noble cardinal.
"grown ups!"
Yager walked over quickly with a cane. He could hardly stand, but he insisted on supporting Shermans.
"Now is not the time for affectionate master-servant relations. The demon hunters of the new sect have surrounded this place. We must find a way to escape."