Old-time musicians

The echo of light released by "Guidance of the Fierce Sun" is still flowing in the corridor. The bright sunlight shines on the weird picture frames, statues and dolls, showing a ferocious and bright color.

Wherever Fan Ning could see, another ball of flames rose up. After the crackling sound, the strange object crawling in front disappeared without a trace again, leaving only a smoky blackness on the ground.

Even in an ordinary spiritual state, he can already use "temperature retrograde" to gradually heat up objects without resorting to existing heat sources, but the efficiency is far from meeting the needs of such an emergency. Only in the echo of light, Only by spiritually sensing part of the sun's temperature as an exchange heat source can such rapid, violent and large-scale deflagration be achieved.

The three of them finally had a chance to breathe. After a little distance from the deformed "paint balls" surging behind them, the curse mark in Qiong's hand turned into purple dust and fell. Then she grabbed the other two people and smashed them against the wall. go.

The masonry on the wall rippled like water, and my body was submerged in it one after another.

Because Fan Ning's astral body still carries a sense of dissonance, the room separated by a wall seems quite bright, but there seems to be a hint of strange green mixed in the light.

"The door is there." Several people's eyes quickly locked on the next exit. Just as they were about to escape, the clear sound of shattering glass was heard. In the long cabinet at Fan Ning's feet, a deformed humanoid specimen sat upright. Get up and hug his legs.

Demarcating the space, detecting the sun, and pulling each other, the foul smell of burning wafted out, and the specimen quickly turned into charcoal. Fan Ning swung down the crowbar in his hand and split the deformed corpse into two pieces.

A burnt arm with more than twenty fingers was still holding Fan Ning's thigh.

After just a few seconds of delay, the three of them saw colorful and bright paint spilling out from the cracks in the door and the corners of the ceiling at the other end of the room like latte art. Obviously there is no need to see what is happening outside the door.

"This way." In a hurry, Qiong pulled the three of them and fell towards a wall again.

Harsh yet joyful human voices roared, and the red, blue, purple, and black paints squirmed on the ground dragging a dozen stacked picture frames.

The slowing effect and temperature exchange happened at the same time. The crowbar in Fan Ning's hand was smashed down wildly, sawdust flew into the air, and the burnt black pigment cakes were split everywhere.

The three of them fled. After passing through another wall, Fan Ning saw that the terrifying "paint ball" almost filled the entire room. The side close to his nose quickly sunk in, revealing a deep hole. Bottomed black hole.

Joan screamed in fright, grabbed the vests of the two of them, and fell back to the previous room.

However, it has become like a leaky bag, and paint is constantly squeezing out from wherever there are gaps.

Change sides and continue through.

The echo of light in Fan Ning's spirituality has disappeared, and the underground building has returned to darkness, mixed with a hint of strange green.

So in the following time, the three people rushed through the wall in a panic, but they were forced to escape within a few seconds after landing. In a daze, they discovered that almost all the objects in this underground building came to life, and The paint balls overflowing from the "gallery" on the lower floor are still growing rapidly, filling one house after another, making the space for escape smaller and smaller.

Qiong, who had consumed the most inspiration, was now as pale as a sheet of paper. Fan Ning and Sheeran continued to perform temperature exchange and slow progress, and their condition was already very bad.

Purple light burst out, and the three of them once again emerged from the rippled wall.

Fan Ning found that the door was at hand, and he closed it tightly with a bang. Then the three of them, all soaked, squatted down, breathing heavily.

"The paint on the wall is missing?" Fan Ning wiped the sweat from his face and looked around while breathing hard.

Futons were scattered on the floor, with an inexplicable hemispherical "boiler" in the middle. There were shredded papers, ink bottles and quills piled on the desk in the corner of the room. The rusty copper wire that he had removed from the book before was still vaguely visible in the dim light.

This is the big room that was once filled with paint.

Unexpectedly, everyone panicked and fled back here again, but now all the walls were empty.

"I remember that there were some strange specimens and instruments on the table before, but they seem to have disappeared."

"Maybe he survived and ran away?"

Sheeran and Qiong both held their chests and spoke breathlessly.

In just a few seconds of speaking, thick paint began to slowly flow out from the crack in the door that Fan Ning had closed tightly.

Seeing this scene, Joan gritted her teeth and struggled to stand up, first holding Sheeran's hand, and then preparing to pull Fanning.

"Wait a minute." Xilan held Qiong in his arms, "The texture of this room seems to be good, quite tight."

Fan Ning's eyes lit up when he heard this: "Yes, try the 'Consecration Curtain'!"

Joan quickly took out the ritual utensils that Sheeran had entrusted to her for safekeeping from the black box.

Before, no one could use it at all, because paint was leaking from all rooms, the flat curtain walls it created could not block all, and no one could find a breathing space to activate it.

"I'll do it." Fan Ning said, "You consume too much."

"But I am studying the 'Key', and the effect will be better." Qiong shook her head.

"You forgot, I have also understood the 'key'." Fan Ning stretched out his hand and took the bundle of lavender scrolls.

"Boundaries are the surface of the world, and invisible things also have limitations." He uttered the Turangalian secret language to ask for the invisible power of the "Tower Caster".

The scroll was lifted and the canvas was unfolded. At that moment, the three people saw the amorphous pattern on it. First, there were alternating and rotating gold and stone, silver flakes and mercury slurry flashing before their eyes, and then it seemed to turn into a purple-gold gem lamp or a hooked and twisted fractal petals. Finally, what they saw was a tower-shaped pattern with cracks, and there was a faint flash of lightning in between.

"... He promised never to look at me, He promised never to teach me, He promised never to look for me, but I must understand what made me, what I made, what split me, what I split, what stayed away from me, what I stayed away from..."

An invisible boundary wall began to form on the plane of the door. Because it had not been completely sealed, under excessive squeezing, colorful slurry began to overflow from the corners.

Fanning felt a throbbing pain at the back of his head. He bit his lip and continued to recite: "… because He exists forever in the history of shaping, in the history of fractals. In those great processes, I always watch the lightning-like inspiration, which blooms like sparks or withers like rags…"

After reciting the secret message, Fanning closed the bundle of scrolls on time and quickly.

There was a crackling sound, and the door broke into pieces. The fragments were immediately rolled into the deformed "paint ball" and disappeared.

The colorful paints could not go any further. They touched the non-existent surface, like a human face pressed against the glass. The raised fine bumps were squeezed into a plane, and the shouts mixed with pain and excitement passed through the distorted texture, shaking the room buzzing.

Fanning smashed the crowbar in his hand again, and the green light jumped in the dimness, smashing the paint that had penetrated before.

…Finally, it was temporarily blocked. The three of them bent over, holding their knees with both hands and took a long breath.

"How long can this ritual vessel last?" Fanning asked.

"In the previous activation records, the longest time is 90 minutes and 16 seconds, and the shortest is 21 minutes and 6 seconds." Xilan said.

"Well... at least we have 20 minutes, which is too short, barely enough to think, but better than the moment of escaping without saying a word just now." Fanning began to pace back and forth in the room, "... Speaking of which, why is this room so tight that the all-pervasive paint outside can't penetrate from outside the door? Joan, can you take a look at the other walls? Is there any side that has not deteriorated yet and can allow us to escape?"

Joan hurriedly took out another curse seal and began to poke her head in one by one to check the other three walls.

When her face emerged from the last wall, there was a trace of worry on her face: "Carron... These three sides are all rocks and soil. This room has reached the edge of the underground building. Even if we can pass through the wall, we can't get out of the mountain..."

Fanning's face changed when he heard this.

Are we trapped here to death?

"Isn't that right?" He suddenly pointed to a place inside, "You said there are rocks on three sides, so why is there a door here?"

The two girls followed his gaze and looked at the other corner opposite the desk. There was indeed an inconspicuous small stone door.

It looked a bit awkward, not because of the shape - everyone was used to the decorative style with anthropomorphic associations that could be seen everywhere in this underground building - the awkwardness was in the location.

Imagine a square house, the door must be opened to the middle of a wall, even if it is not in the middle, and it is not placed on the rightmost edge, especially in this weird way of opening, the three people felt that the edge of the door was about to turn at a right angle and reach the other wall.

Fanning asked, "We just stayed in this room for a long time. Did you notice this door?"

The two girls shook their heads blankly. Joan said, "At that time, my attention was too much... There are too many strange things in this house, the 'big pot' in the middle, the futons all over the floor, the strange instruments and specimens on the desk, the document "Okgun Manuscript"... Oh, and the weirdest wall full of paint, it should be ranked first..."

"Oh, the wall full of paint..." Joan's long string of words reminded Fanning.

There is a simple and crude but convincing explanation: it may be that there was paint everywhere, too colorful and too thick.

Now the wall has become bare, so naturally you can see this inconspicuous stone door.

He approached and tried to push it.

It's not too heavy, and the stone door is also sufficiently lubricated in the groove of the ground. If you put more force, you should be able to push it slowly, but he stopped because a small wooden picture frame was hung on the protruding eyeball decoration.

The batteries of the three people's flashlights were all exhausted, but there were still many tallow candles in the backpack.

He took out one and lit it. Under the weak light, a long paragraph of ant-like small words came into view.

These small words were all in Turangalian, and the content was like a hymn sung by a person in a state of intoxication or ecstasy. Some places were repeatedly crossed out with excited lines until it was difficult to read clearly, and some places were filled with a lot of complicated content that made no sense, as if it was just a pile of empty words to maintain a certain "emotional state", and some places had traces of stiff splicing.

"When a person wants to see the Holy Fountain, he must ██ and show Him the two seals... He must shout to Him █33 times in the ██ way, and he must remember that if more than If this number is exceeded, his blood will be poured out on his own head. If it is less than this number, ██ heir ███, but once he counts █33 times, he will immediately ████"

“…Those who see the holy spring will be divided into infinite groups. The first group says, Holy, Holy, Holy, and kneels down to worship. The second group says, Holy, Holy, Holy, and kneels down. Worship, said the third group… (repeated meaninglessly more than twenty times).”

“…changed, ██ized, dissolved, amplified, exalted, blessed, ██ized, presented…there is no end, there is no end…His name is Sahayawi, his name is Zwaya Wei, his name is Tra Yeshia Wei (there are more than thirty sentences, the third person pronoun is a common form, the name is spelled in confusion, all are forced transliterations by Fan Ning)... Favor and crown belong to the transmutation one, Decoration and miracles belong to the transmutation One, knowledge and power belong to the transmutation One (there are more than ten sentences, piled with meaningless praise words)..."

As Fan Ning read, he felt a confused yet inspired enthusiasm. He felt something was wrong and quickly moved the candle away.

But after thinking for a few seconds in the darkness, he brought the candle closer again, but this time he turned the frame over.

There was actually words on this side, but the fonts were larger, and they were in ancient Hoffman language. This short sentence made Fan Ning's pupils suddenly shrink.

"Please double-check that the door is closed."

What particularly made the three of them feel weird, terrifying and frightening was that the word "again" in the sentence was written very hard, and they could see that the tip of the pen had sunk into the wood and turned into a deep scratch!

Sheeran glanced behind worriedly.

The huge, deformed "paint ball" is firmly attached to the non-existent surface and sliding around. From a distance, it looks like a flat and bright dynamic graffiti painting.

"Caron, we've probably passed ten minutes..." She couldn't help but remind her.

Fan Ning frowned and stared at the small picture frame. It could be seen that he was thinking rapidly in his heart.

"What should we do? We seem to have no other way to go. Let's go in and try?" she asked again.

"Don't, don't, think again." Qiong's soft voice trembled at this moment, "The shortest record of this ritual instrument in the past was fifteen minutes, but this time it is not necessarily that short, there may be some time, Let’s think about it again, I feel like this door is too scary, who knows what will happen if you go in..."

"No matter how scary it is, can it be as scary as being swallowed by this deformed monster?" Xilan's face turned ugly, "And you just detected it. There are rocks behind these three walls. Maybe it will be the same when you enter here. We might be able to get in the mud. Make a small hole to hide..."

"Then why not just go through the wall..." Qiong curled her lips.

"Go in." Fan Ning suddenly said.

The two stopped discussing and looked at him: "...Caron, are you really sure?"

"Sure." Fan Ning took a deep breath and then added:

"But let's try going in with our eyes closed."