Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Old Dirty Mouth took another gulp of wine, this time he drank even harder than last time, even choking on himself - of course, it could also be that the young man's words were too unrealistic.

The old pirate coughed and hammered his chest hard with his fist. When his cough finally subsided, he laughed loudly: "You whimsical bastard, Miss Fortune will not appear in such a ghost place. If you can see her, even the bearded lady will be pitiful and live honestly. Bar!"

"There's no point in living."

The tattooed young man was still melancholy, and he had curly long flaxen hair. If it weren't for his unattractive looks, he would probably have the temperament of a poet. He sighed: "The Night of Soul Eater is coming again, within this week. God knows how many people will die this time?"

"To die is to die."

His companion said in a nonchalant tone, and took out an old pipe from his bosom. For a young man his age, smoking a pipe was a rare thing.

"Crackling."

The sound of the match burning was very slight. He stared at the burning wood between his fingers, lightly lit the tobacco in his pipe, and then took a comfortable sip, shaking his head: "At least you bastard still knows what she looks like. It's like... we can only run into the red street and play with those aunts who are falling in their flesh!"

His words made everyone laugh, except the old dirty mouth. The old pirate shook the cheap liquid in the wine bottle, brought his face up, and felt the cold glass gradually become warm. The foul language of those young people came from his ears, and there was no lower limit. Old Dirty Mouth felt that his nickname should be given to them.

You know, he only gets dirty when it's time to 'dirty mouth', and most of the time, he won't be so nasty.

Old Dirty Mouth couldn't help but start to recall his prosperous years. At this moment, the old pirate's face no longer seemed so full of the depths of the years, but changed into a sea-like tranquility and depth. He stared straight at the coffin as the waves drifted away, expecting the candles to go out soon.

At this moment, he suddenly frowned.

The old dirty mouth looked down and found that the hairs on his arms were standing upright. His legs began to not obey, and even his tongue was paralyzed. The smell of that damn cheap liquor kept fermenting on the tip of his tongue, and the bitter taste he could bear was now magnified a thousand times, making his eyes go wide.

Made him... want to scream.

But he didn't—because a heavy sense of oppression stopped everyone.

The voices of the young men disappeared, replaced by a low hum. At this moment, no one made any sound. They even breathed lightly and sluggishly. A burst of blue light flashed on the pier, and a man stepped out.

That heavy oppression disappeared.

Old Dirty Mouth was breathing heavily, and the exhaustion that these few seconds brought him was almost comparable to that of the continuous jumping gang when he was young. He felt like his bones were about to fall apart, which distracted him from the man who was slowly walking towards him.

But the young man behind him could see clearly.

The young man with the Miss Fortune tattoo on his arm has put his hand on the gun on his waist, and if the man is going to do something to the old dirty mouth, he will never ignore it - the old pirate has been lame since hitting twenty years ago Since then, he has been working as a corpse collector here, and all the money he earns is used to support these orphans.

Old Dirty Mouth called his actions atonement, and everyone laughed at him. Until the group of orphans grew up, until they visited the people who laughed at the old dirty mouth one by one.

I don't know if it was his illusion, the young man felt that the man seemed to glance at him. His eyes glittered in the darkness, and his face was blurred, except for those eyes, which made his whole body stiff.

"Hello."

The man's voice was low,

The two words have just been spoken, and the young man is doubting his identity - apart from the group of aristocratic Picheng elders who came here, how many people can say you so nicely?

"......what?"

The old dirty mouth raised his head blankly and looked at the man standing in front of him. The face of the other party was still unclear, like a layer of veil was wrapped around it, but those eyes made him stutter involuntarily, and even used honorifics: "You, what's the matter with you?"

"There's no need to use honorifics... Ha." The man chuckled lightly. "I'm here to find someone."

He stretched out a hand.

This hand pierced the dark curtain and placed it cleanly in front of Old Dirty Mouth. Pale, slender and powerful. He slowly opened his palm, and a crystal clear green gem shone on it: "This is your reward."

"For... who?"

Old Dirty Mouth's tongue started not to obey him again. He was not an ignorant idiot. This gem would definitely sell for a high price. It might even give him the money to leave Bilgewater and retire elsewhere without having to endure the torture here.

However, he felt uncontrollable fear.

The man stood in the dark, and the thick darkness enveloped him, making Old Dirty Mouth unable to see any details. But for some reason, he always felt that he was not alone in the darkness.

Absolutely not.

Old Dirty Mouth could even sense its icy gaze—it was standing beside the man, watching Old Dirty Mouth, looking at him with the emotionless eyes of the dead, digging through every trace of his face. details.

"You're the corpse collector here, right?" The man waited patiently for his fears to subside. "I'm here to find a harpooner, a man who was buried in the belly of a sea beast and left behind only a short beast-toothed knife. You should have thrown that short knife into the sea half a month ago...Recall , old gentleman."

He said politely, "What's his name?"

Old Dirty Mouth racked his brains, searched his stomach, and searched for every remaining lucid memory from his heart and brain that had been ingested by alcohol and fear. After a few minutes, he finally shuddered and spat out an uncertain name: "... ...Pike?"

This short noun creates a chain reaction.

An illusory ghost walked out from the man, out of the darkness. He crossed the line between life and death, standing in front of Old Dirty Mouth and everyone. There was even sea water dripping down his body.

The smell of fear began to spread through the crowd. The young man who had planned to draw the gun was stunned, his fingers were rigidly joined together, like a stone, born as a whole, and could no longer perform the mission of drawing the gun.

"My name..." The ghost breathed out a cold breath, and the cold air lingered in front of the old dirty mouth, turning into a real ice crystal. "Yes, that's my name."