Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Cran Samps stared at the blue spinning nebula, and after a while he looked up at the mage with a classic Batman stare and asked, "What is this?"

"Gifts, gifts, responsibilities, the source of disaster. It will fill your future life with blood and fire, and it will make it impossible for you to sleep soundly every night." He Shenyan grinned. "It's not a good thing if I say it, young man."

Cran Samps sniffed. The disease caused by the genetic defect began to attack him at this time, and he began to have double images in front of his eyes, and he could hardly concentrate. A deep sense of powerlessness caused him to lose control of his body and fell to the ground in an instant.

The pain was only for a moment, and what followed in his heart was an indescribable deep smile. The smile was so sudden, and with a formidable meanness, that he couldn't help laughing out loud.

He Shenyan squatted down, stretched out his hand, and brushed the messy hair that had been wet with cold sweat and wrinkled on his forehead: "I will never laugh at those who are handicapped..."

"Laugh if you want, Mage. What does it matter?" Crane Samps replied, lying on the ground. The way he grinned was ridiculous, because only half of his face was moving, and he looked like a poor actor.

"I won't laugh at you." The mage's calm but firm voice came from above his head. A sudden force made Crane Samps open the mage's hand tremblingly: "Stop being so pretentious here!"

He roared in a gaffe: "What do you know? You know Batman from another universe, yes, that's good! But I don't need your pity or your inexplicable gift. I'm this world. Batman clone, yes, I only have three years to live, maybe even less than three years before I die! But that's my choice!"

He was shaking all over, roaring like a collapse on the floor. He Shenyan didn't say anything, he just squatted there and looked at him quietly.

After a while, Cran Samps calmed down.

"Feel sorry."

"If you calm down, think carefully about what I said. If you really think about it... come to me."

"Looking for you? How do I notify you?"

The wizard who had reached the door glanced back at Cran Samps, who was trying hard to get up from the ground. Seeing this scene, He Shenyan grinned: "...put on your bat suit, Batman."

Half an hour later, Cran Samps stood naked in his bathroom, looking at the frail man in the mirror. He had the face of Bruce Wayne, but failed to inherit his superhuman physique.

On the contrary, Cran Samps was as thin as a skeleton. He has prominent ribs and slender limbs. When the electronic mask wasn't activated, his face was terrifying. With sunken eyes and sunken cheeks, he looked like a dying person no matter what.

Batman?

He couldn't help but laugh out loud again.

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The pale man held an apple in his hand. He was like the best circus clown. He flipped the apple up and down and threw it in a new way. He even caught the falling apple with his own mouth at the end.

But there was no applause from the audience in front of him, and nonetheless the man bowed. He gave an expressionless curtain call. Then he took out a pistol and aimed it at his head.

There was a bang, and no bullet was fired from the barrel, but a pawn with you cheated written on it.

The Joker said to himself, "I shouldn't have killed him.

"

"Are you right, Copperpat?" He said and turned around. In this dark room, there are dozens of ice coffins, and the people inside are different. The person he was talking to at this time was the 'Penguin' who disappeared that year, Oswald Copperpat.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot that you can't speak anymore." The clown said a cold joke with a blank face, and the man who laughed wildly seemed to lose his smile.

"What about you? Mudface? Do you think I should kill him? Well, forget it, you bloody stinky scum!"

"And you, Bane, you were there, why didn't you stop me from pressing the button! You knew that idiot was going to go and save the little girl! You bastards, I just wanted to make a joke, but you are I really want him to die!"

He scolded them in the room, dancing with his arms and pacing with his hands behind his back. The voice echoed in the room, bringing bursts of echoes. Perhaps tired of scolding, the clown turned over and lay on the ground. His once joyous face no longer contained any smile, only a deep emptiness.

"You're not dead, you're definitely not dead... Yes, Batboy, I'm going to keep killing, I don't believe you can keep hiding from me..." he muttered to himself , hooked the sides of his mouth with both hands, and made a twisted smile.

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Headache.

dizzy.

Sitting on the bus, Crane felt uncontrollably weak. The feeling of vomiting surged up, and he gritted his teeth, not allowing himself to vomit. But the grunting from his throat and the leaning forward sitting position had made the woman sitting across from him step back a little without a trace.

Damn, woman, do you think I want to get on this smelly bus? Crane glanced at her and said so in her heart.

There was nothing he could do, and the situation got worse and worse. He found he couldn't even walk for long and had to opt for a bus ride to his secret base. If necessary, he would choose to spend the last days of his life there. The money for the landlord has been prepared in the shoe cabinet at the door, and they will definitely open the door when they find that they have not been home for a long time. …

By then they should be able to discover Cran Samps' will and the money he used to pay the rent.

The quirky sense of humor made him chuckle again, shook his head, and the bus arrived soon after. Stepping out of the car, today is actually a rare sunny day—by Gotham’s standards, a day without rain is a sunny day. It was evening and the sun was setting.

He walked into his secret base step by step, and took great pains to take out a new monitor from the cabinet beside him and put it on himself. The whole process might take less than ten minutes for a normal person, but it took him half an hour, and at the same time he was sweating from the pain.

In a trance, he saw the broken monitor on the ground. The broken mirror reflected his feeble face and made him see another person.

Batman, Bruce Wayne.

"Hey, hello....I've embarrassed you, bro."

The man in the mirror didn't speak, just looked at him firmly. This firmness hurt him deeply.

"Don't look at me like that! I can't do anything! I know he's been killing people, of course I know! But what can I do? Put on your suit? I'm not Bruce Wayne! I'm K. Ran Samps, I want to have my own life too... you bloody bastard! It's only been three years since I was born!"

Bruce Wayne still didn't speak, of course he didn't. Because Bruce Wayne was dead, the mirror reflection was his own face, an illusion.

Crane gasped heavily, gripping the armrests of the chair hard enough to keep himself from falling. After a while, the dizziness slowly subsided.

He felt a tickling in his teeth, and the smell of blood spread in his mouth. Crane frowned and stretched out his right hand, fumbling over his teeth, the left canine tooth a little loose. He just tried to shake it and took off the tooth, the blood poured out, and he swallowed.

Well, it looks like the time is almost up.

Throwing his teeth on the ground, he began to use the computer to check the information. The knowledge from Batman quickly came into play, and he was soon hacked into the Gotham Police Department's intranet. But they found nothing. They didn't seem to think about arresting the clown at all, and even the on-site investigation was just a perfunctory matter.

A group of frightened dogs....

A hatred he wasn't aware of began to take root in Crane's heart, and just as he was about to look for other clues, a notification popped up on the computer.

He clicked on it and found that it was a live broadcast.

A male reporter looked at the camera with a serious face and said: "After only three days, the clown attacked again, and his behavior became more and more rampant. As we have seen, he is now hijacking innocent white-collar workers who are still working overtime in a building, and Ask the GCPD officers to get Batman for him or he'll kill one every ten minutes..."

As the reporter spoke, he handed the microphone to a police officer's mouth. The man was wearing a gray trench coat, with a tired, fat face, and a hat.

He said, "Well, everyone knows that Batman has been dead for a long time. We don't know what's going on with that bastard, but we'll try to fix it, okay? Now, Mr. Reporter, Please leave the scene! All irrelevant people, etc., leave the scene!"

He started calling out to his colleagues to clear the field. The live broadcast was quickly cut back to the studio, and the host began to make his own comments on the incident again.

Crane Samps fell back, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the computer screen, but his eyes lost focus. After a while, he stood up. Pressing a button on the desktop, the ground slowly opened. He went down.

-------------------------------------

"What did the boss think?"

"How do I know? But you better not ask, boy, the last person who asked him has been thrown down the drain by now."

Two men wearing clown masks stood on the left and right of the elevator on the seventeenth floor of the building. They chatted casually, and they didn't seem to be worried about any possible blows at all.

The GCPD has long been frightened by them. The Joker killed all the lunatics in Gotham a year ago. Now there are only his gang and the biggest lunatic in the city. No one will mess with him, just let him play, anyway, the money on the table of those big men will not be less, what is a dead person?

"Ding dong."

The elevator rang, and the man standing on the left side of the elevator raised his eyebrows. He turned around and found a man in a bat costume standing in the elevator. He immediately laughed out loud: "Hey, I didn't say that, buddy. Who the hell gave you this bad idea, let you come up to meet our boss? You're going to die! Go home quickly! I'll just pretend I didn't see you."

Another man also laughed: "That's right, you don't look like him at all. He's much stronger than you, and you're as thin as a hemp."

"Really? You saw him with your own eyes?" the man in the bat suit asked softly, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, your voice sounds a bit like him... Of course I've seen him!" The man took off his mask, and on his painted face, his nose was out of shape. He pointed to his nose proudly and said, "See this? He left it for me!"

The man in the bat suit gave a low laugh, then pulled his hand out of the cloak, which was dripping with blood. He threw out the two bat darts with precision, hitting the wrists of the two of them, causing the guns in their hands to fall to the ground. Then he immediately jumped up, pushed his palms up, and knocked the chin of the man with the crooked nose crooked, sending him a baby-like sleep by the way.

As for the other one.....

He turned his head slowly and looked at him. The light coming in from the window reflected in the scarlet eyepieces. The man trembled and asked, "You, are you him?"

"Who?"

"Batman."

The man in the bat suit exhaled. He lifted his cloak and took out a tube of light blue injection from his waist to lay it down for himself. Then he said lightly, "No, I'm not Batman." Then he kicked out and knocked the man unconscious.

pain.

There is not a single part of his body that does not feel pain, this is the necessary price he has to pay. Crane Samps didn't understand why he put on this special bat suit and brought himself here with a powerful stimulant - but he didn't really care that much now.

It's going to die soon anyway.

But Batman did predict things - he had long guessed that the fast-ripening clones would have genetic problems of one kind or another, so he made two insurances. The first is a special bat suit. The suit has artificial muscles, which can strengthen his own strength and also replace some muscles. It can even ignore the broken arm or leg bone and still use it. Boxing and kicking.

The second is the powerful stimulant he just shot, the lethal dose, the real lethal dose. You'll die soon after the fight, but who cares?

He walked into the elevator, ready to go up to the eighteenth floor, the top of the building and where the clown held the hostages. He didn't know what to say to this lunatic, he didn't equip his men with any radios or anything, and even had only two people guarding the elevators on each floor. The stairs were not guarded at all.

The elevator dinged and the door opened. The shivering crowd was behind a pale man, without any of his men, only himself.

clown.

When the man saw him, his eyes lit up at first, and then he sighed in disappointment: "They don't even want to find someone with a similar physique to perfunctory me?"

He turned his head and waved his revolver at the shivering group of unfortunate white-collar workers, and said loudly: "Listen! Ladies and gentlemen who are still working overtime on Sunday night! It's not that I want to kill you, It was the GCPD who killed you! Look at the people they recruited, they are completely insincere!"

As he said that, he planned to shoot at the crowd. In that scream, a familiar voice entered his earlids: "...Stop."

The clown's movements froze.

He turned his head stiffly like a machine, and moved his limbs like a marionette. The pale face put on a smile again: "You... ah, damn it, don't make a fuss about you bastards! You, say it again!"

"Stop."

This time, there were no screams from the crowd. His voice entered the clown's ears more clearly. The grim smile on his face became wider and wider: "Oh, my dear... You're really like what you learned from him!"

"I am him."

"No no no, you're not him. How could he be so thin? Seriously, man, are you anorexic? Where did you get this dress, it looks like the real thing. The clown came to him with a playful laugh, lifted up his cloak, and stroked the material of the cloak with his dirty fingers.

"It looks exactly like the real thing..." The clown suddenly raised his head. "You're back from hell? Old friend, this really touches me."

"Come and give Uncle J a hug, how about that?" He grinned and stretched out his hands pompously.

Batman still doesn't speak, he just punches the Joker in the face. The clown who knocked him down alive and lying on the ground didn't have the slightest idea of ​​getting up. He just laughed loudly: "Yes! Yes! That's it, I haven't felt this familiar feeling in a long time! Do it again! Do it again!"

Batman grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. The hoarse voice sounded again: "Let them go."

"What are you talking about, old friend? I made it very clear from the beginning! As long as you come, they can go! Who cares about these poor bastards who work for capital? Overtime on Sunday nights , even a lunatic like me knows that Sunday nights have to be enjoyed!"

While shouting, he turned his head with all his might, and said loudly to the white-collar workers who were still trembling: "Go away, you poor bastards! Don't disturb me and my old friends catching up!"

After all the white-collar workers disappeared, Batman let go of his hand. The Joker fell to the ground, looked up at Batman, smiled, and said, almost babbling, "Ah, how similar..."

"But you're not him, are you?"

"Nothing to do with you."

The clown shook his finger: "No no no, there are 10 million things in this world that have nothing to do with me. For example, there is a murder happening in New York right now, or an old lady in Vietnam is having dinner, these things Of course, it has nothing to do with me! But your relationship with me has become bigger!"

He sat on the ground and started chattering: "Look, I've been with that bat for so long, so long that I know him better than anyone - I even know who he really is, of course, I didn't say it. .Sometimes, telling the truth makes the game less fun...now, if you don't mind."

He narrowed his eyes, and the smile disappeared on that face again: "I want to ask you to take off your mask and let me see if your face is the face I think, okay? Otherwise, I will press Push the button."

He shook his hand, revealing a small detonator that appeared on his right hand at some point.

"What did you do?"

"What else can a detonator be used for?"

The clown looked inexplicable: "Are you a lunatic or am I a lunatic? Of course the detonator is used to start the bomb! I have planted many bombs in and around this building, as long as you show me your face, I will not Start the bomb...how?"

He watched Batman take off his mask with satisfaction, and the satisfied smile was fleeting, because although that face was indeed the person he thought of, but his eyes were sunken, and he looked like a short-lived ghost who didn't live long. .

"Tsk tsk tsk...how on earth did you make yourself look like this ghost?" The Joker stood up and jumped around Batman, looking at him by the way.

"Disarm the bomb."

The clown rolled his eyes: "You're really unsentimental. Well, well, Uncle J has always kept his word - even if I didn't promise you to defuse the bombs, I'd defuse them."

He grinned and smiled, grabbed a purple flower on his suit in front of his right chest with his hand, and shouted to the flower, "You all heard! Disarm the bomb!"

After doing all this, he threw the detonator in his hand to the ground, and then clapped his hands. The dark conference room suddenly brightened up, allowing Batman to see the cameras hidden in the dark.

The clown grinned and smiled happily: "I originally planned to kill him here in front of the national audience if it was a counterfeit. I didn't expect that I would encounter a real one and still It's really strange - but I clearly remember that you died, how did you come back?"

Batman's face was expressionless, his eyes swept across the cameras one by one, and finally settled on the Joker's face: "...you win."

"win?"

The smile on Joker's face disappeared, and he yelled angrily: "Win? No! I lost! I lost badly! Your identity is a little secret between me and you! We didn't break the secret. But now I'm taking the initiative to reveal your identity to everyone, I'm such an idiot! Ahhhhh! I lost!"

Batman coughed suddenly, and a drop of blood flew to the Joker's face along with his cough. He blinked and wiped his face with his fingers, looking at the blood on his hand, the smile suddenly returned to his face: "...Hey, Bat Boy."

"Enough of the small talk, Joker," said the hoarse voice, and the next second, Batman swooped at him.

The fight between the two was rambunctious, and Batman's hand-to-hand combat skills seemed to disappear completely, as did the Joker. The two of them were just punching and punching each other. No one uttered a single word, only the blow to the flesh and the splash of blood.

The clown laughed. He enjoyed this happiness, which he regained after he lost it, so he cherished it very much, and every punch he threw began to get harder and harder. But Batman is different. He is so weak that he can't even put a fist into a box. Every time he punches, it is a challenge to his life.

He himself was surprised: why am I not dead yet?

The fact is that not only was he not dead, but every movement of his collapsed body brought him deeper pain. Every tendon, every bone, every muscle protested against him. But Batman, or rather, the man who pretended to be Batman, stood there stubbornly, punching punch after punch.

Three minutes later, they fell to the ground.

The Joker is dead - by a swipe straight to the temple. He also had a smile on his face when he died.

Batman lay helplessly beside him, the Joker's corpse staring at his profile in the dark. Batman doesn't know why the police haven't come up yet, but he can roughly guess the reason, it's nothing more than the Joker's prearrangement. He must have let his gang stop anyone from interrupting the show.... but that's fine.

It's good that no more people can see me like this.

He gritted his teeth and tried to stay away from the clown, but he couldn't move. The darkness had crept into his eyes, and he closed his eyes unconsciously, laying next to Batman's nemesis, and then fell into a deep sleep.

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Snowflakes fluttered in the gloomy and dark night sky, and a little snowflake fell on Batman's shoulder, and he stood silently in this alley. There was no one on the ground, only the pearl necklaces that rolled down stayed on the ground in groups of three or five.

"That's what's called an NDE, isn't it? Near-death experiences . . . really meet all the criteria."

"...I've heard people say that when people are dying, they see relatives or friends. People who have died before."

"I know you."

"Right... Mother?" He turned his head, and behind him, stood a beautiful woman in a black dress, looking at him with a sad smile on her face.

"Yes, Bruce." She smiled softly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not really your son—"

The woman stepped forward and took his hand gently: "Don't be silly, Crane."

"You...you know my name? Are you real? Or is this just another hallucination of mine?"

The woman's smile was getting more and more sad, her eyes were turning a little red, but she still smiled: "It's all here, what's the difference? Crane, Bruce. Whatever your name...you They're all about to die."

"I know." Batman replied calmly.

"Is there anything else you want to say?"

"To whom?" Batman asked rhetorically.

"To me, to anyone, to the Bruce who died before you...I know, you don't really want to be Batman."

"I inherited the memory of Bruce Wayne. My DNA is exactly the same as his, and most of my personality and reactions come from him. It can be said that I am him. Even in my near-death experience, I encountered Both Bruce Wayne's mother," said the man who didn't want to be Batman.

"But I don't actually hate him, really, not at all. Because I know he wouldn't do that if he had a choice."

The woman caressed his face, so gentle, so motherly warmth: "...but you also know his cruelty better than anyone, don't you? He is very clear, inherited his memory, you no matter what will choose to defend the city."

Batman laughed suddenly.

"I've thought about how I'd die -- I might die after a sleep. I've also thought about dying as Batman, in a fire, in an operation to save someone from drowning."

"I may have died with vigour and a heroic sacrifice. Accomplished Batman's highest goal: to prevent Gotham from being destroyed. Or I may have died unknown, just as Crane Samps, worthless, and buried in public in the cemetery."

"But I never thought about this kind of death... I actually died with the clown."

"You've accomplished Batman's ultimate purpose, and now, no one can threaten the city... just come with me, okay, Crane?" The woman took his hand again, hers A clean white door appeared behind it. Batman didn't know what was behind it, but he didn't move.

"Where are you taking me, mother?"

"A place you should be, a place worthy of you," Martha Wayne replied. "There, you don't have to have anger and hatred, you don't have to hurt anyone or be hurt by anyone. You just have to be happy and peaceful."

"As long as you come with me."

Batman still didn't move, neither accepting Martha's invitation nor rejecting him. Instead, he suddenly said something unrelated: "I'll wake up, mother."

"What?" Martha Wayne, who wondered if it was his hallucination, looked more confused than he was.

"I'll wake up," Batman said. "If you're asking me what I've learned from Bruce Wayne's painful memories - it's just one thing."

"Batman never gave in. Even in the face of death. He never gave in, he failed many times and was knocked to the ground many times. But not once he gave up," he said firmly.

"It's not over yet. The Joker's gang is still threatening the safety of the city, and many people have not escaped from the danger. And the city deserves a better ending. Most importantly, mother."

He laughed: "...it's the machine, ah, the damn machine. I haven't set a time for it to start. If I die, there won't be another new Batman. , at that time, who will guard the city?"

Martha Wayne watched him, blinked, and burst into tears. Tears ran down her face and fell to the ground. She lowered her head and said in a crying voice, "Just think it's for me... just this one time, escape your duty and stop fighting, okay?"

"No...mother." Batman gently pushed her hand away. He knew that he would wake up soon. It was an inexplicable intuition that made him so sure.

He whispered, "I can't die yet, not now. Not yet."

Batman suddenly opened his eyes and saw the man who claimed to be a mage who he had seen during the day was standing in front of him, his face calm.

"...how long have you been here?"

"Not long, Batman." He Shenyan said. "You two played very hard, I saw it on TV."

He pointed to the cameras that had been turned off.

"Mage also watches TV?"

"As a dying person, your willpower is unbelievable. I bet you shouldn't have a part of your body that doesn't hurt right now? You can still tell me a bad joke." The mage snorted softly, Pull him off the ground. This action naturally made Batman grit his teeth, but he didn't let out a pained cry.

"Now, I'll ask you again..." He Shenyan stretched out his right hand again, and the light blue nebula swirled in his palm. "Are you going to accept this curse?"

Batman glanced at the thing and asked, "Will this curse make life better for people?"

"See how you use it."

"Very good." Batman nodded, then held the Mage's right hand without hesitation. As the starlight erupted, he whispered to the mage, "You know what? In my impression, only the devil would give people a third option when they were desperate."

He Shenyan grinned: "Maybe I am? Do you have the courage to walk with the devil?"

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The Emperor stared at the man in the black bat suit and said, "Surprising."

"Surprised what? His willpower?"

"That's just one aspect... I'm even more surprised by how similar he is to one of my sons." The Emperor's face contained some sighs and memories. He said slowly: "I'm not a good father, never was. They get into that situation, and I'm mostly responsible."

"Come on." The mage said mercilessly. "It's usually said after people have made a mistake, and it's useless."

The Emperor replied with a wry smile: "You are absolutely right, Mage."

He was silent for a while, then said, "Do you have anyone else? I mean, like him."

"There are so many, I'm not some unlucky person who can only sit in a chair. There are so many humans in the endless universe. Isn't it easy to find a few qualified people?"

Hearing this news, the Emperor's expression turned serious: "You must promise me one thing, Mage, you must tell them the complete truth, and let them choose whether or not to take this responsibility. I don't want to have Any deception or... a lie."

"Of course." He Shenyan nodded as he should. "I'm not some riddler who never speaks clearly and likes to use his son as a tool, what do you think?"

Seeing the smile on the mage's face, the Emperor suddenly felt a tickling of his teeth. He hasn't felt this way for a long time, how long has it been? Ten thousand years, or twenty thousand years? This is like a chat between two friends between humans, which is already beyond expectation for him.

He whispered, "That would be better."

"His remodeling will continue for a while, so I still have some time to chat with you." The mage shook his head and asked softly, "Would you mind talking to me about your sons? Crono Stacey never talks about that part."

The Emperor's face put on a wry smile again: "Why do you like exposing people's scars so much? I am a failed father, and I am ashamed of every one of my sons... Of course, in your words, if I can truly Tell them this in person, and the result may be completely different."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of guy who likes to make fun of others. I just feel sorry for you."

"pity?"

"Yeah, you have so many opportunities to accomplish your ideals and your career. But at every critical juncture, you fail because of some small mistakes, and you make mistakes again and again. Now, not only You failed to fulfill your ideals and even got stuck in a chair. And if you didn't have the luck to contact me through Kronos, by now, you should be ready to accept the destruction of the empire ."

The Emperor nodded, and he took the mage's words indifferently: "You are right. That's right. If I hadn't met you, I'd be preparing to get off this damn chair and put the four The bastards ripped it off one by one."

"You can beat the four of them?"

"They are not human." The Emperor chuckled and shook his head, his face suddenly filled with sadness. "And once I got out of that chair and gave up my body... I'd be a shame."

"You'd better stay on your broken chair... Honestly, I don't understand why I want to help you like this, damn it." The mage complained and got a smile from the Emperor.

"Because you and I are kind of people in a way," he said. "Don't be in a hurry to deny it, at least you are a staunch human supremacist, you can't deny this, right?"

He Shenyan nodded noncommittally.

"Second, you will feel pity for other people's tragic experiences, so as to help them... You can't deny this, can you?"

"Go on, I'm listening." The mage said lightly.

"Third, although you appear cynical on the surface and don't care about anything, you actually care about many things - there are thousands of roads in this world, and you will always choose the right one. And the right one. The road is often the hardest road."

The Emperor's smile gradually calmed down, and he closed his eyes and said in a soft voice, "But that's also the biggest difference between us, Mage. I love mankind and everyone. That's why I Can't pay attention to each of them."

"If I were to cry over someone's tragic experience, what happened to Kronos would be enough for my tears to flow into a river. But you're different."

"You're genuinely outraged at everyone's misery, and you'll do it, no matter the consequences—I appreciate that so much, Mage. I just don't have that special courage in you...I too many concerns.”

He said with emotion, and finally said: "I hope you will never lose this special quality."

His true feelings were only revealed by the twitching face of the mage and a sentence full of disgust: "Remind me next time before you say such disgusting words, damn, you are still doing these things here after a lot of years?"

After saying that, he disappeared.

(