Hunting College

Time goes back a few minutes.

As the night falls, after the moonlight shines through the tall French windows into the exhibition hall of the museum, the exhibits in the exhibition hall wake up from their sleep and begin to enjoy their freedom.

Sunflowers spread their petals on the canvas, despising the existence of companions. The ones with three, look down on five, think that things are rare; the ones with fifteen, look down on twelve and below, think they can’t show the splendor of sunflowers. When Vincent was creating, he must have never expected such discord in his works.

The shouter leaned on the railing and cleared his throat. The flowing clouds and sea water behind him swirled in its sound, rolling out bottomless vortices, and people could see the endless starry sky through those vortices. Or the ancient palace on the deepest sea floor.

The Sphinx shook the dust on his body, stood up, the whole exhibition hall was echoed with rumbling noises. The stones on it are too old, so old that even the most senior researcher in the museum is not sure about the age of the stones. It is said that the face lion in front of the tomb of the pharaoh in Giza, Egypt, imitated its shape, which gives it a good A lot of prestige has been added to this museum.

There are also groups of Cupids, bare butts, flapping their wings, flying around, shooting arrows at every witch and witch they see. It's just that the wizards who can have a place in the wax figure area of ​​the museum are no longer young, and have passed the age of spring heart.

There are also Ye Qi. When they are alive, the wizards can't see their appearance. After they die, only the dry bones are left, and the wizards still can't see their appearance.

The false sun hung above the sand table, spitting a blazing flame to the valley below. The horses and camels made of colored glaze hide in the shade, sticking their tongues out and chewing on the sand. The two groups of wizards who killed each other on the sand table during the day huddled together and talked about their acting career. From time to time, black-robed wizards sculpted out the arms or legs of white-robed wizards in the sand—this is what remains of the war on the sand table during the day. Traces—then they yelled, waved the Dharma books, and helped with the procedures.

The whole museum.

Except for the meditators who like to sit alone on the stone platform in a daze, the long, active exhibits in the museum will almost all walk off the booth under the moonlight and night, stretch and stretch their muscles and bones, and shake their spirits.

This is their freedom.

It is the exhibits that cannot move, such as the skull of the legendary Cyclops, Cookrops, with only one head left, so he can only stay in the glass cabinet and sing weird ballads that others will never understand.

The young hunters of the Youxin Hunting Group sneaked into the museum from the side entrance, and did not attract much attention from the exhibits.

Every year, every month, too many young people sneak into the museum by night.

There are witches and witches holding hands, hiding in the shadows. There are also those who hold workbooks and come to the museum to find descriptions of exhibits, hoping to polish their papers. There are also rumors that the museum is haunted at night. Law books and talisman paper, come to subdue demons and demons in search of excitement.

No matter what these young wizards do or what they do, most of the exhibits in the museum are blind to them, pretending not to see the sneaky figures.

After all, they are not in the same world with them.

It was the same tonight.

Someone walked into the house.

Someone came to the stage.

There are others who are guarding the door, sitting on the stone steps, with their backs to all this.

Everything should be so distinct.

Until the hard thorn on a branch of that aralia pierced the finger of a certain young wizard, a little red blood was hung on the tip of the thorn.

With that little blood spread.

Everything is different.

Although the museum is alive, the residents who "live" in this museum are dead.

Tonight, as the **** breath diffused, the dead who had stayed in this living coffin for a lifetime suddenly smelled an opportunity to break the law of death.

There is an opportunity to get them out of the puppet-like life day after day, like a real wizard, or a real magical creature, out of the moonlight and under the sun.

The hollow eye sockets of the skeletons were stimulated by the breath, and in the deepest part of the black eye sockets, a red glow flashed; the specimens made by magic touched their empty chests, as if they heard the heart beating. There are also heavy stone statues, awkwardly moving their hands and feet off the booth, walking heavy steps, searching for the direction of the breath, and rumbling the whole museum.

...

...

The young wizards who were chased by the tide of skeletal fossils were ignorant of what was happening in the entire museum. The urgent pursuit can only allow them to focus on the escape in front of them, and there is no spare capacity for any deep thinking.

But as the best young people in the first university, even when they are running away, they are not too pessimistic.

They would tease each other, spit out each other, and guess the reason for the riots of the bone exhibits~www.wuxiaspot.com~ Up to now, Zhang Jixin has put forward the most direct guess-he threw the incense ash from his right shoulder when he entered the Baicao Garden, so Brought bad luck to everyone.

Throwing incense ash from the left shoulder before entering the Baicao Garden is an ancient custom of wizards, which is said to bring good luck.

But no one knows the consequences of throwing it from the right shoulder.

Theoretically, if the direction of loss is opposite, the consequences should be the opposite. It is not surprising that Zhang Jixin feels that he has brought bad luck.

But this explanation is too far-fetched.

Zheng Qing flipped a page of the book, called out a few vines, twisted them together, and tied a thick rope, one end tied to the tail of the double-headed dragon fossil, the other end wound around the black pillar further away After a few laps, a knot was tied.

Seeing the dragon howling and twisting in mid-air, he turned his head, his face gloomy, and said:

"It's just a handful of incense ash, it can't bring such a bad result... Fatty just hit and flew with a snarling, then he was going to be beaten to death with a peach stick?"

According to the legend, Hou Yi was cursed by the big rabbit because he bullied a head of his head, and was finally killed by his disciple Pang Meng with a peach tree.

Although the fat man became bigger, his ears did not fail, but because the ears became bigger, his hearing became much more sensitive.

After hearing Zheng Qing's speculation, he staggered under his feet and almost fell in the tide of white bones.

Then he ran, crying and complained: "This matter...I don't blame me for this matter! How can I see what's ahead...they are so many!"

In the potions class last year, the fat man suffered a few days because he picked a bowl flower by mistake.

So he is very sensitive to this kind of divine talk.

The rumbling cry echoed in the exhibition hall.

Kind of funny.

It's also a bit pitiful.

:. :