Lord of Mysteries: Yao Guang

Medici's expression was rarely gloomy. If he was unhappy with something, he would definitely get angry on the spot, unless he kept this annoyance in his heart and hatched a conspiracy to severely hit the other party.

He rarely looks as blank as he does now.

The "Red Angel", who has always had bright emotions, has a calm expression at the moment, as if he has been infected by Ourolius. However, judging from his legs on the stone table,

Ourolius was sitting next to him. Although his eyes were closed, his brows were slightly wrinkled, revealing a little melancholy on his originally perfect face like a sculpture.

"Orochi, what are you thinking about?" Medici, with empty eyes, couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know either..." Ourolius shook his head slowly, his frown gradually dispersing because of Medici's question.

"So you didn't think about anything?" Medici sighed forcefully, then raised his head wordlessly, looking at the sun hanging high in the sky.

"I don't know." The hesitation in Ouro Leus's words disappeared. He opened his eyes. Under the silver eyelashes were light and calm eyes. "Fate did not give a revelation, only chaos."

Medici sat up straight and looked at Ourolius with a serious face: "What about fate? It's this time, do you also want to ask for guidance from fate?"

There was a little confusion in Ouroleus's eyes, but just by seeing that look, Medici could understand the "what else" question in it.

As a "hunter" by nature, Medici really couldn't figure this out: "You, if one day we have to face the choice of life and death, do you have to follow the will of fate and let things happen that can be prevented? "

Ourolius looked at Medici quietly, and after thinking for a moment, he finally just nodded.

Medici held his chin with one hand and murmured: "Sure enough, this will be your answer. I have thought of it a long time ago. It's really boring..."

After another moment of silence, Medici turned his head: "No matter what fate gives you, will you accept it so calmly?"

"yes."

"It's so boring." Medici looked away. From the corner of his eye, he saw a black bird shadow flapping its wings in the sun.

The shadow of the bird gradually enlarged, and the dark crow fell from the air. But just when it was about to step on Medici's head, a ball of fire ignited between Medici's bright red hair. This forced the crow to immediately steal the space distance and transfer its foothold before being burned to ashes, and stepped on the head of Ourolyus on the other side.

The shadow of the silver Mobius halo passed through the body, and the crow with white eye circles looked left and right, but the power of "restart" was not activated, so it folded its wings with peace of mind and stood firm on the long silver hair. Body.

"Hey, little crow, I haven't seen you for a long time."

Medici lazily withdrew the flame above his head, just looking at the malicious smile on his face, and was ready to take action again at any time.

The crow stood on top of Ourolius's head and stared at Medici condescendingly: "It hasn't been long. Don't you often see my clone? What a pity, your attack methods are so predictable."

Medici snorted heavily from his nostrils and asked bluntly: "Seeing that you have been sneaking around lately, what are you busy with?"

"I'm investigating your conspiracy." Black Crow replied with a smile.

Medici did not show any expression of surprise, but smiled proudly: "Very good, if you didn't notice anything, then I would laugh at you."

"What you said makes me really uncomfortable. Why do you seem to be praising yourself?"

"Of course, you have stolen so many ideas from me. If you haven't made progress, I will suspect that you are as brainless as Leodro."

Crow smacked his lips, moved his paws, and shook off a few silver hairs tangled on his toes: "It's not easy, you are actually praising me."

"That's right, you only have half of your brain, and the other half is parasitic on others." After Medici said this, he laughed to himself, ignoring the crow's increasingly unkind gaze.

"What exactly do you want to do?" The crow's voice was colder than usual, with the characteristic hoarseness of a crow's voice.

"It's none of your business, little crow, you just need to know this." Medici replied with a smile.

Before Medici could say anything else, Ourolius suddenly spoke: "It's a secret."

The crow's eyes suddenly flickered. It spread its wings and flew to a nearby roof, looking at Ourolyus from a distance.

Ouroleus's pale eyes followed the crow closely, and what was reflected in his eyes was a long silver-white river full of whirlpools and splashes.

"I don't think you can see anything."

"I didn't see it, I just knew it." Ourolius said, sighing softly.

The crow seemed to be stimulated by Ourolius's abnormal attitude. He didn't know what he thought of, and soon flapped his wings and flew into the sky again.

Medici looked at the direction Amon left and flicked off an ant that was climbing up on the edge of the seat. The ant angrily shook its white right tentacles and then fell to the ground, lifeless.

The red flames circled in the nearby air, and Medici showed a look of satisfaction. He turned his head and looked at Ourolius who closed his eyes again: "What secret will let the little crow know?" Are you all afraid? Why not tell me too, so that I can have something to threaten Him next time."

Ourolius tilted his head: "It's just...a secret."

"But you actually played tricks and deliberately brought up this 'secret' to make him give up his intention to continue to entangle." Medici chuckled, but the smile on his lips gradually disappeared, "It feels like there are too many secrets. Annoying enough."

He really prefers conspiracies that he can control in his own hands.

——

“The wisdom of a wise man enables him to find the path he should take; the clumsiness of a fool deceives himself.

“Fools sin and refuse to repent; but the upright seek forgiveness from one another.

“No one else can share the sorrow in your heart; no one can share the joy in your heart.

“The house of the wicked will collapse, but the house of the upright will stand.

"Some roads may seem straight, but they lead to death..."*

The quill is hanging at the end of the sentence. I don't know if I have forgotten the next sentence, or if I simply don't want to continue writing.

The gentle breeze blows over the head, causing the branches and leaves of the olive tree to sway slightly. The intersection of shadow and light falls on the paper, distorting the writer's sight, giving those quiet words a vitality of their own, as if they are ready at any time. Stand out, climb out of planned rows and columns.

The story is slipping out of control, but where will it go?

Adam's eyes were as clear as a child's, gently scanning the sentences he had written. The tip of his pen trembled slightly, but he never continued writing. He felt a little uneasy.

From the subconscious sea? Spiritual intuition? Or is it some kind of negative premonition generated by watching events unfold and speculating on the direction of the story?

Adam put down his quill and rolled up the parchment in his hand. The imaginary paper gradually turned transparent and finally disappeared in His palm.

As if at exactly the right moment, a black figure suddenly appeared beside Adam and patted him on the shoulder.

Amon, who was wearing a pointed soft hat and a black linen robe, pinched the monocle in his right eye: "It's a bit strange that you have empty hands. Is it because you know that I will come to you?"

"No, I'm just a little confused about what I wrote before." Adam showed a warm smile, "Are you coming to visit Zoya again?"

Amon looked into the depths of those complicated patterns, and saw a solitary figure sitting on the bench, like a dead tree growing in a black desert.

The black-haired Son of God smiled casually: "There is no point in visiting Him."

"What did you find again?" Adam asked.

"Father called me over before and told me not to disturb Sasril and the others."

After a two-second pause, Amon couldn't help laughing. His cheerful tone was completely opposite to the dissatisfaction in what he said:

"I was only halfway through my investigation, so I gave it up under my father's persuasion. Until now, some priests and pastors have begun to confess to my father, because they all have doubts in their hearts, and there are uneasy rumors among believers. Even They all smelled something unsettling.

"I listened and watched the changes under the secret protection. I even lost several clones because of it, but I couldn't do anything. My brother, his wings and feathers were cut off and his tongue was cut off. What else can I find? ?What else should be discovered?”

When Amon spoke, his eyes did not fall on Adam, but looked in the direction of Zoya, as if the complaint in his words was not directed at Adam, but at the silver-haired body sitting in the middle of the strange magic circle. .

"You think it has something to do with him." Adam didn't even need much analysis. He knew his brother very well.

"It has something to do with you, doesn't it?" Amon turned his head. When the smile on his face completely disappeared, his thin cheeks became slightly mean, and his cold eyes were very distant, "I was the only one who was deceived."

it's not like that. Adam wanted to say this, but when Amon's eyes glanced at Adam's wrist, the bracelet made of olive branches stung like thorns, making it impossible to say these words.

"Is it because I haven't done well enough? I'm too far away from my father's expectations?" Amon said to himself.

Just because he was standing next to Him, Adam heard these two sentences clearly.

Quiet, fortunately, there is a slight sound of wind passing through the leaves, making this quiet time not too deserted.

Adam touched the olive branch on his right wrist and said softly: "If you want, I can help you write the beginning of the story."

Amon looked at Adam for a while, then showed a bright smile again: "Really? Let's talk about it first, I don't have anything to say thank you to. But if there is anything you want to steal, you can tell me."

"No need." Adam unfolded his hand again, and the imaginary parchment roll gradually extended and rolled down on his left hand, leaving it blank, "What do you want to write?"

"You are better at this than me, so it's up to you." Amon said indifferently, but his eyes stayed on the bottom of the quill.

Adam looked at Zoya in the distance, and the quill stroked lightly, leaving black writing:

“Laughter can cover up sorrow, but it doesn’t last long. Once the joy is over, the sorrow remains.

“The lost road will eventually end. How will those who wake up from sleep see their dreams?

"That day has come..."

The quill suddenly stopped at the end, and a black mark was stained on the parchment, as if a name that should have been written there was blackened.

The sound of wind gradually stopped.

*Proverbs 14:8-12, 14:13