Crown of Silence

Chapter 296 Pigeons are so big!

In the dark basement, a robin wearing a red sacrificial robe walked into it, his eyes under the hood were cold.

In the pool, the rich blood plasma rolled, and the naked Naberis stepped out of it. The skin around him was constantly decaying and reborn. After losing his original slightly aged posture, he actually regained his youth again.

No more injuries.

He stepped on the stone slab and took two steps forward. Darkness enveloped him like a garment, transforming into a black dress.

"I've been waiting for a long time." He looked at the robin with a smile: "Is there anything you can't get away from?"

"Nothing to do with you."

The robin glanced at him: "Didn't I tell you not to contact me if it's not necessary?"

"Actually, I don't want to see your face." Naberis sighed helplessly: "There is no way, there is something wrong with the restriction cracking in the Elizabeth Tower."

Robin frowned: "That barrier was originally built by the Purple Branch School. With the core inheritance, isn't it possible that Ingmar's ability can't even be reverse-decrypted?"

"It's not ability..."

Naberish shrugged and pointed to his head: "This is it."

As he spoke, he opened the secret door and led the way. At the end of the passage is another door. In front of the door, a rickety old woman is sitting on a chair, dozing in front of the dim light.

When he saw them coming, he didn't say anything, he just stood up and moved out of the way.

"Has he taken any medicine?" Naberish asked.

The old woman nodded and pointed to the foul-smelling copper cauldron in the corner: "I just finished eating. It will be quiet after a while."

Naberic nodded complacently, motioned to the robin to be silent, and then opened the door.

Behind the door, the vast room is filled with various drawings. Some drawings are filled with musical notes and are meticulously marked, some drawings are scrawled with cracking ideas, and some drawings deduce the process of alchemical rituals.

And more drawings... are filled with all kinds of strange graffiti that are completely incomprehensible. It looks like various people died tragically - you can vaguely distinguish a one-armed man who was pierced by thousands of arrows, a big-headed doll whose hair was painted white, who was divided into five horses, and a blond man who was chopped into pieces...

Among the pile of drawings, a gray-haired man was kneeling on the ground, carefully grabbing a crayon and scribbling something on the white paper.

His morbidly emaciated appearance and fanatical eyes were heart-wrenching.

Naberish stood beside him, bent down, and called softly:

"Ingmar-san ~ Ingmar-san."

The man originally named Ingmar was still immersed in painting and turned a deaf ear. Naberis reached out and picked up the drawing: "What are you drawing? Can you let uncle take a look? Come on, be good, let uncle take a look!"

It took a lot of effort for him to pull out the piece of paper from Ingmar's hand. Without the torn paper, Ingmar was motionless, just sitting on the ground blankly, muttering something incomprehensible.

Robin took the drawing, frowned to distinguish the scrawled handwriting on it, and after a long time raised his head:

"Is this...a pigeon?"

Hearing him say 'pigeon', Naberish's expression suddenly changed, but the words had already been spoken and there was no time to stop him. Ingmar on the ground convulsed as if he was ill, screamed, and crawled all over the ground.

In the end, with nowhere to go, he could only huddle in the corner, trying hard to pick up the shredded paper on the ground to cover himself, muttering in his mouth, with fear and confusion in his eyes.

"Dove, dove, dove..."

He muttered repeatedly, suddenly chuckled, and looked at Naberis with great joy: "Why do you think the pigeons are so big?

What a big pigeon...flying! "

No one paid attention to him, so he grabbed the waste paper on the ground, threw it into the air, and cheered excitedly: "Fly! Fly! The pigeon flies!

But why are pigeons so big? "

"..."

The robin looked at Naberish in silence, waiting for an explanation.

"There's nothing I can do about it, the sequelae of broken heart sounds."

Naberis sighed, "My blood pressure soared. When I was rescued, my brain was almost broken - even if I was transformed into a black musician, I couldn't save him. I didn't expect that for the first time in sixty years, I would develop a believer in the Holy God. He is actually a fool...hehe."

They left the room and closed the door.

"Now we can't mention any interpretation of ancient documents or the Voynich manuscript in front of him. If he's lucky, he sometimes stays awake all day long. If he's not lucky... it's hard to tell."

Naberis sighed: "There is no way to interpret this state."

"We don't have time for him to go crazy."

Robin said coldly, "Inject 'Mandala', increase the dose, and use the formula of 'Dead Flower Potion'. Inject until he wakes up."

"What if I die?"

The robin glanced at him and said, "As long as the results can come out, does it make any difference to us whether he is alive or dead?"

"Okay, leave this matter to me. Not many black musicians now dare to say that pharmacy is better than me." Naberis nodded and changed the subject:

"However, things are a bit difficult with Holmes. I'm a little worried. He hasn't appeared recently, and he may be planning something famous secretly."

"You just need to do what you should do." Robin said calmly, "Don't be passive and slack in your work, otherwise it will be easy for the Holy Spirit to trap you for another sixty years."

"Don't say such scary words, I'm already very scared." Naberis sighed with complete disappointment: "Originally, I wanted to hear some words of encouragement from you. But, what if I can't figure it out?"

"I have my own way."

The robin turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

——

Three days later, at the pier in the afternoon, rotten vegetable leaves were left in the sewage and discharged into the ocean.

Amid the smell of fish and the sound of hawking, a cargo ship from afar docked. Second mate Bonin directed two sailors to move a heavy wooden box to the shore.

"finally reached."

For three days and nights, he sailed day and night, and objects continued to be delivered to him along the way. By the time he arrived at Avalon, the wooden box was already full.

Those things were wrapped tightly in thick oil paper, as if they were made of steel, which made people extremely curious.

But Bonin was far from having the courage to open them and take a look: after living on the sea for so many years, he had seen enough of what happened to unruly guys. It would be fine if it were other smuggled goods, but no one dared to think otherwise about what the shaman wanted.

Anyone who dares to think about it is dead.

Besides...who knows what hot stuff is inside? Sometimes, it would be too stupid to throw away your life just to take a look.

As a small smuggler, Bonin was suddenly given such a hot job, which made him feel uneasy. Over the past few days, he had filled his mind with countless terrifying conspiracies and evil plans.

Forget it, he was worried all the way. Now that he finally arrived at Avalon, he just prayed that someone would take this thing away as soon as possible.

But, why is the contact person still missing? Could it be...

For some reason, he suddenly felt panicked. Even though he was under the blazing sunshine, he only felt a chill lingering around him.

God bless me, have I really gotten into some trouble that I shouldn't have?

He swallowed, looked at the crowd around him fearfully, and began to wonder whether he should continue to stay here.

"Bo Ning?" A cold voice sounded in his ear.

He was horrified and turned around suddenly, but saw nothing. In the crowd, there was a vague figure looking at him from a distance.

"Come see me."

The voice said, and he subconsciously looked up, only to see a pair of indifferent eyes.

The pupils were pitch black, but had the texture of glass, and were bottomless, as if hiding an invisible whirlpool - just looking at them made one feel unable to escape.

When he came to his senses, he was already standing in the bustling market.

In the corner of the market, in front of him, the boy was sitting on the steps, leaning against the corner wall, seemingly basking in the sun.

He squinted his eyes and hummed happily, the sound of the song was vague and distant.

Next to him, traders were shouting loudly, and sailors occupied every beachfront place to carry goods. People were coming and going, and some rude sailors were already fighting, and there were cheers and shouts...

But for some reason, no one noticed the figure of the young man next to them, as if he didn't exist in this world.

So, what is it that exists here?

A resentful spirit?

Familiar with you, Bonin's neck was covered with fine cold sweat, and his arms were trembling.

But the young man just threw a piece of paper into his arms and pointed to the open space in front of him. As if he was being pardoned, he dropped the box and ran away without looking back.

It wasn't until he had walked far away that he turned back with lingering fear and looked into the crowd: From the beginning to the end, the young man never opened his eyes, as if he was sleeping soundly in the afternoon sunshine.

He withdrew his gaze, not daring to look again, and fled towards the dock - no matter what, this damn job was finally over.

After a long time, the young man finally woke up from his sleep.

He rubbed his face and got up from the ground, with a sad look on his face: "Why did you fall asleep again? If I had known I wouldn't have played cards all night, I would have lost so much. Hey... I hope Auntie won't be angry."

He muttered in a low voice and ran into the bakery next to him. Soon, there was a burst of anger in the shop. The young man nodded and carried the freshly baked bread to the hotel across the street.

And that box, at some point, had been thrown onto the carriage by the workers who were moving vegetables.

The carriage hurried along the street, stopping in front of restaurants and dropping off fresh vegetables, meat and seafood. The wooden boxes among them were carried off the carriage by helpers and distributed to the door of a restaurant opened by immigrants from Tianzhu. A man in a turban smoked a hookah and directed a few children to move things into the kitchen.

"Boss, isn't there another box?" a child worker asked doubtfully.

"Where is the other box?" The boss glanced at him: "We only order so many dishes every day, how can those Anglo miser dare to send an extra box? If I don't give you so many pounds, it's already very short. Not bad.”

The child looked in the original direction in confusion. The wooden box lying there had disappeared...

In this way, the wooden box was transported throughout Avalon in a strange manner all afternoon. Until the end, it was thrown into the mail truck as an ordinary mail bag and sent to the academy.

"Three hours and twenty minutes."

In the coffee shop opposite the school, in the open-air teahouse, Ye Qingxuan stopped the time on his pocket watch, "Although it has been calculated long ago, there is still an error of ten minutes.

There is still room for improvement..."

——

Chinese New Year is coming in a few hours, I wish you all a happy new year, and please continue to take care of me in the new year.

Also, I have been quite busy recently, so I will take a day off for the Chinese New Year~