Dow and Carbon-Based Monkey Breeding Guidelines

Chapter 414 Engrave the Words of His Majesty

The peasant girl watched the wing-headed man disappear with her own eyes, but she wasn't too surprised.The creature was something she had never seen before, so she figured it must have come from beyond the world, such as the void where the iron ships floated, as the old man had mentioned.But she had other doubts in her heart, because the winged man looked completely different from the old man.Is that the old man hallucinating his own form?His original appearance is also similar to that winged head?
She asked bluntly.The old man shook his head after listening.

"Wigarden comes from another kingdom," he said. "To go to his homeland in a fire-breathing iron ship, you'd have to travel tens of millions of years. But if you look at it from the whole void, your two kingdoms are far from each other." Very near. It was once a spirit, like your gods, but a little different. You see, each god your father created was unique and had its own place. Available in Vigarden's Homeland, there are as many spirits as there are trees in the forest. They form legions, serving only their founder."

Another king, the peasant girl thought.She also asked the old man to tell something about the king, because Wiggarden was different from the characters in other stories, but she had seen it with her own eyes.She thought that the king of the Winged Heads was of course also the Winged Heads.But it turned out not to be.

The old man described to her the former situation of that country: one being ruled the whole world.It is as supreme as a king, but it cannot be called a king, because it thinks itself higher than that, it should be called "Eternal Father" or "Supreme Lord".It does not rule any actual territory, but is the supreme owner of all things.The mortals don't really own anything there, everything is just a temporary reward, including their own bodies and souls.

This statement is also puzzling for peasant women.She knew that the gods of old had much, but it was all offered by mortals for their pleasure and satisfaction.The gods also have their own power, they can conjure all kinds of things from ashes, which mortals may not be able to see in a lifetime.But no matter how much they ask for, mortals still have something left that belongs to them.No matter how poor people are, they can always peel off the bark or pick up some wild vegetables. How could the king go to snatch these with them?The gods can not drink or eat, they enjoy the tribute just for pleasure, and some gods will eat things that mortals do not understand, for example, Enton often drinks hot springs - but no god wants everything, they always like it do's and don't likes.

The old man was smiling again. "The point is everything," said the old man. "It's not about liking or disliking. If you imagine a father looking at his child, he may particularly like the features of the child, but not the color of its hair. But anyway the child is His, will never let the child's hair be free just because he doesn't like it. He can ask the child to shave his head, or change the color with dye, because everything belongs to this father, and he has the right to dispose of himself Likes and dislikes. Your father was a king who didn't bother too much. He only cared about his own happiness, and put away what he didn't like. But the former owner of Wiggarden, ah, He is a very perfect ruler. Everything must run in the most perfect way in his mind, without any deviation. He created many observers like Wiggarden to supervise and manage the world he dominates. He prescribes in detail what rules everything is to obey, and how it treats its like and its different kind. If he finds a species not to his liking, and which cannot be thoroughly modified, he orders the observers to bring it to light. The species is completely wiped out, and then start all over again. Another difference between him and your father is that he never enjoys himself—in fact, he has no material pleasures, no hot and cold, hunger and thirst, no sweet and sour and fragrant, he can feel What he found was coordination and chaos, so his pursuit in this area is also the culmination. The observers he created have the characteristics of his part: they are not interested in birds and flowers or exquisite art, they only pay attention to whether life operates according to established rules I'd love to tell you about those rules, boy, for they're reasonable and ridiculous at the same time, but there's too many of them to tell you in five days and nights. If you're unlucky enough to break one of them , the observers will punish you, make you fester and bleed all over, and you live in the world, but feel as painful as being in hellfire."

The peasant girl has no sense of fear.Her body and mind were made by the king with mist and wind, sometimes destroying her form in battle, and she doesn't know what pain is.She just felt that the owner of the winged head was very unreasonable.Why so many requirements, so strict?The desires of life in this world are all innate, and it sounds incredible to ask them to follow the rules in everything.Even the barbarians who worshiped evil beasts, the gods did not deliberately exterminate them, but let them exile and consume themselves.

"That's one way of doing that too," said the old man. "Do you remember the master with the machete? Beings like them, if not bound by a strong law, will only make themselves and others suffer. You It can also be said that it is the fault of the environment, but this kind of changeability is their mediocrity. The former owner of Vigaden was very dissatisfied with this. He wanted to polish a more solid and noble temperament, but also More flexible and richer than the observers. But it is not as easy as carving a solid stone. He can be said to have a kindness for children and works for his creations-of course, if the works do not show his virtuosity, he Rather reinvent the wheel. He kept reinventing the wheel until the hellfire brought his own doom."

The old man still seemed very easy-going when he said these words.He seemed neither appreciative nor disgusted, and simply described what he saw lightly.He took the peasant girl's hand and wandered in the night forest again.At this time, the snow was already very thick, and the snow flakes from the treetops fell on the peasant girl's forehead.She touched it in her hand, thinking that the severe cold was also one of the vanguards of the Hellfire.The heat that represents the inner world itself has been taken away by the hellfire.

The old man told her another strange thing.He said the snowflakes were very fine, but the fineness was tiny, like the "invisible little things" they had encountered on the fog trails.The old man drew on the snow with branches, drawing various symmetrical and complicated patterns.He said that was what the pile of snowflakes in the hands of the peasant girl looked like.Those patterns looked beautiful and fragile, and the peasant girl could only hold the snowflakes carefully so as not to crush them all.She thought of the tops of willow trees covered with snow, and of her dream of wandering along foggy paths.

She finally remembered what she wanted to ask the old man, and her mood suddenly sank.The old man noticed it immediately.He put away the branches he had painted on the snow and asked the peasant girl why.So the peasant girl brought up the foggy path again.She doesn't care where the end and entrance of the fog trail are, she just wants to know whether the shadow that falls there can return to the world.

The old man was silent.He had never had such a long silence that the peasant girl unconsciously became frightened.Finally the old man put his hands on her hair and stroked it slowly and gently.

"Let's go to a more appropriate place to talk about it," he said softly.

They came to the foggy place again, and walked forward for a long time before the old man began to speak.But he didn't say whether the king's dream could be recovered, but he talked about the priestess of Nabibai.Tell me what kind of hobbies she has in her life, how smart and brave she is.She once confronted a much taller bandit and tricked him into taking his weapon away.

She personally pressed the robber to the statue of Ye'e with a knife, and said "kneel down", and the robber was so frightened that he fell to his knees.But after all, she has never killed anyone, and she is born with a kind heart.She wanted to let the robber change his ways and make him swear to Ye'e's idol, but the robber didn't keep his word.At this time, a hunter happened to pass by. He shot the robber dead with his bow, and then rescued the priestess.

The Orion lived so far away that the Priestess did not know him, but has since become acquainted.They often communicate, and finally have a good impression of each other.The priestess is sworn to follow Je'o, and will never marry a mortal.However, Nabibai is a place with open customs, so they often meet privately.The priestess managed the matter carefully, using many methods to prevent conception.She hesitated, but finally decided to keep her oath and completely cut off contact with Orion.

Orion was very sad, and before parting with the priestess, he made one last request, hoping that the priestess would predict the end of his fate for him.The priestess granted his entreaty, and brought the concoction, the incense, and the cigarette tray.She drank the concoction, prayed sincerely to Ye'e, and saw Orion's fate through the smoke.It was a talent she was born with, and it had been used by many important people, but when she saw Orion's fate, the result was shocking and heartbreaking.As the duty of the priestess, she will still tell the other party the result completely and truthfully: Orion will have a great heir in the future, a hero who will achieve unprecedented achievements, and that glory will make Orion's family prominent in the world, but he himself has no hope of seeing it. to that day.He will perish in Hellfire like all others, and be covered by new growth.

Her prophecy was conveyed to Orion exactly.The old lover stood in a daze outside Ye'e's temple for a long time.Three times in a row he asked to see the priestess again, but was always refused.He had to leave in frustration, and never saw the priestess again—that night, a terrible earthquake occurred in Nabibai, and the temple of Ye'e completely collapsed, and none of the priests survived.Orion went away from home and never returned to Nabibai.Many years later, his child was born, and he really became a hero that no one had thought of before.

"This is the end of the priestess," said the old man. "I tried to find her lost dream on this road, but there was nothing left. This is not common, but it happens occasionally."

The peasant girl was completely confused.She doesn't know how this story actually relates to her problem.Many heroes have been born in the world, and some of them can even make the gods marvel and praise.But those heroes are all dead, and it is of no help to get back the king's dream.She repeated her question again.

But the old man still didn't answer directly.He spoke again of the Maker of the Winged Head, the ruler who laid down many rules in detail.He said that the ruler also met the hell fire in the end, but the old man happened to be there at the time, and he happened to have a way to save the world from disaster.To achieve all this, there is only one prerequisite, and that is that the creator's world can no longer be ruled by him.The old rules can be preserved, but the status of "having it all" will eventually fade away.

You want to take his world away?asked the peasant girl.When she asked this question, she didn't have any panic or suspicion, because she trusted the old man very much.

"It was just a little sacrifice," said the old man. "Nothing survives Hellfire unchanged, as you and your father know. But the Maker is unwilling to accept any change—and I need to point out that His greed is different. He will not be shaken by any existing interests, but the perfection he pursues in his heart cannot be tarnished at all. If external forces want him to change, he would rather let everything be destroyed forever and return to nothing. There is no old age, and no unknown new life will be allowed to replace him. Ah, he certainly did, tearing down the world he created. Since everything was created by him, I think he has the right to veto everything—including The lives of his creatures. At last the fire of Hell came, and the Creator reigned eternally in the dream of death, and never had to worry about change. I did nothing about it, but managed to preserve what he once was Legion Commander, you have seen Wiggarden. Actually, I prefer young people with vigor, but Wiggarden is a very careful and thoughtful helper. You will understand me when you see how meticulous it is at work. mean."

The peasant girl trembled when he finished speaking.There was a violent storm in her heart, and her thoughts were more chaotic than foggy clouds, but she didn't try to sort them out.The third time she repeated the same question.The old man looked at her calmly, as if he was finally ready to answer this time.

"There is a throne in the black palace of the Usurper," he said, when he spoke. "Most of the time the Usurper sleeps at the bottom of the pool, but at certain midnights his courtiers will come to see him. Then he will Sitting on the throne with the body of a dead man, participating in the affairs of his courtiers. I have never seen the throne as it is now, but I heard that it was smashed and rebuilt with gems full of broken dreams. Under the throne The steps, it is said, have not been altered, so I know what it looks like: it is made of powdered seven-color crystals and the ashes of tricksters. Before the new king took the throne, one of the greatest witches used silver The line was written with protective spells on both sides of the steps, and no one has ever caused a crack in the steps of the throne, except the third child of the witch, who has magic powers enough to rival her. He used to play under the steps of the throne, using A line of words was carved on the dagger his mother gave him. That line of writing must remain on the steps to this day. I don’t know if the usurper has seen it. If that line of writing means this in your language—”

His voice stopped abruptly, and even his footsteps stopped.The peasant girl turned her head to look at him, and saw that he seemed to be listening to something.By this time they had walked a long way in the foggy path, and she wondered what the old man could hear.She waited for a while, and finally asked.

"A voice I hadn't thought of," said the old man. "A possibility. There are many possible answers, but since it's here, we should go and see."

He took the peasant girl's hand and walked forward for a long, long time.That time was unfathomably long, as if a mortal life had passed.The peasant girl doesn't find it boring, and her underground life has always made her very patient.On the way, the old man also pointed out many interesting shadows, and taught the peasant girl how to listen to the shadows.He said that the voice of the shadow heard by everyone is different, because it is not actually the shadow that speaks, but the soul that sees the shadow.As they walked farther and farther, the peasant girl felt that she might soon walk out of the boundless hellfire and go to the void where the iron boat floated.

But she didn't see the iron ship in the end.At the end of her journey with the old man, she sees a red child.

That strange child stood alone on a high cloud of mist, wearing a foreign costume that the peasant girl had never seen before, with long hair hanging down his back.At first she thought it was just like herself, a dark-haired girl in a red dress.But when they got closer, she saw that it was just a very good-looking boy.He is not a shadow, his appearance and expression are clear, but his expression is as hazy and gloomy as the shadow.

"Ah, sure enough," said the old man, "he came here, and I don't think he did it on purpose, but just an inadvertent fugue. People sometimes fall into strange places in dreams. You see, he couldn't see us, because He's thinking about himself."

The boy on the mist stares down, his wide sleeves billowing, like a man standing on a cliff overlooking the sea.His gaze pierced through the peasant girl and the old man, without any response.The peasant girl and the old man also looked at him.In the shadow and mist, the peasant girl felt that the boy exuded a terrible color.red.Overflowing boiling red.It is more thrilling than all the flowers, all the blood, all the fire in this world, and the lips of children and the reflection of hellfire.That's the red of the giant worm that devoured the world!She suddenly understood that this child was not extraordinary, because the red color did not emanate from the robe, but was reflected in her heart.

"Another orphan." The old man said, "fate has given you some similar arrangements. I think you will get to know each other sooner or later—but don't be busy for a while. When your father's business is over, I will also visit that tide. I prefer to talk to children than to elders. The way children think is always closer to the essence."

He took out the wooden flute again and played a tune.The melody style of that song is very strange, which the peasant girl has never heard before.It is like a thin cloud of disturbed bird smoke, vaguely taking on the shape of emotion, and disappearing in the current in a moment.When the song reached the middle part, the boy on the fog cloud suddenly fell down.He turned around and looked around in the clouds and mist, his hair and the jade on his belt were tinkling, but his eyes were empty and unfocused.He seemed to be unable to see the two visitors in front of him, but only heard the echo of music.He slowly stretched out his hand in the direction of the old man.

The peasant girl was very close to him, and saw light flashing in his black eyes, but it was not a fountain or an ice ocean, but a dark, never-ending fire.Suddenly the boy withdrew his arms and walked away without looking back.The old man was still playing, but the boy just turned his back on it and never looked back.When the boy was about to disappear into the mist, the old man put down his flute.

Seeing him smiling, the peasant girl murmured an old short poem:

"The hand of fate, the hand of longing,

Between the fire stretched out the immature hand of a child,

To the throat of the Restorer. "

The red child disappeared behind the mist.The old man took back that smile.He squatted down and was at eye level with the peasant girl, looking at each other face to face.

"I wanted to give you the answer later." He said, "children, dreaming is a rare ability. In dreams, children of mortals are equal to you. The more things you want to understand, here The harder it is to go. Your dream should have lasted longer, but now you're asking questions. I see your pain, but I can't do anything about it. The noble tragedy is that you can't change, in the perfect self It is not self-destructive. You see those shattered gems are more difficult to recycle than fallen leaves, but in fact they are also broken and worthless. You can only remelt them with force. This process repeats itself...you still Didn't fully understand what I meant because you haven't seen the same thing as many times as I have. There are many people in this world who are after a perfect gem, a gem that will never break, but the first one of the great witch long ago The three sons, a powerful child, have seen through it. He has carved his own thoughts with his dagger on the steps of the throne."

There was a deep ocean in the old man's eyes.His sadness was so intense that in the end it didn't feel like sadness, but a slight tease in a smile.

"Nothing lives forever," he said softly like a breeze. "Virgarden's Creator chose eternal and safe death, and the Orion who murdered the priestess was your father."

(End of this chapter)