Once upon a time, there was a man who gave birth to eight sons. Besides, this person is just a comma in the big book of history. It may sound sad, but some people are indeed like this.
However, his eighth son grew up and got married, giving birth to eight more sons. Everyone knows that there is only one suitable profession for Lao Ba, who was born in the eighth year, so the child naturally became a wizard. He has become both wise and powerful - at least it is certain that he is very powerful. In short, he put on a pointed wizard hat, and the story ended like this
Or maybe it should have ended like this
But he escaped from the palace of magic, fell in love with someone, and even got married. Of course, the sequence of events may not necessarily be exactly like this. This not only violates the rules of magic inheritance, but also clearly goes against reason - except for the principles followed by human hearts, which are so hot, messy, and, um, unreasonable.
Then he gave birth to seven sons, each of whom was at least as powerful as any wizard in the world in their cradle.
Then he gave birth to his eighth son
The square of a wizard. The source of all laws.
A great mage.
The dull thunder of summer rumbles around the sandy cliffs. Looking towards the bottom of the cliff, there was seawater sucking on pebbles in the distance, and the sound was like an old man with only one tooth left, holding a piece of hard candy in his mouth. A few lazy seagulls let the rising air lift them up, bored waiting for something to happen.
Amidst the sparse seaweed rustling along the cliff, sat the fathers of eight wizards, holding their eighth son in their arms and gazing ahead at the vast sea.
There is a large restless dark cloud moving inland in the sky, and the light is squeezed in front of it, carrying a sticky texture like syrup, just like the way it looks before a thunderstorm is ready to take action normally.
He heard a sudden silence behind him, so he turned around and lifted a pair of teary red eyes to look at the tall man in the black robe and hood.
Red robed Ipslo? He asked. The sound is as empty as a cave, and the density is like a neutron star.
Ipslo suddenly went crazy, grinning terrifyingly. He held the child up to the Grim Reaper.
My son, "he said," I want to call him Ke Yin
A good name, no worse than others. The Grim Reaper responded politely while looking down at the sleeping round face with his two empty eye sockets. We have all heard many rumors, but the Grim Reaper is not actually cruel. He is just very, very skilled in his old profession.
You took his mother away, "said Ipslo. This is just a simple statement, there is no hostility to be heard. Thick smoke filled the valley behind the cliff, and Ipslo's home was burned to ashes; The thin ash rises with the wind and floats onto the hissing sand dunes.
heart disease. The Grim Reaper said it's not the worst way to die. believe me.
Ipslo turned around and faced the sea. All my magic couldn't save her, "he said.
Some places cannot be reached even by magic.
Now you want this child again
No, this child has his own destiny. I came to find you.
Ah. "The wizard stood up and carefully placed the sleeping baby on the sparse grass, then picked up a long wand from the ground. The staff is black in color, made of metal, with a mesh pattern of gold and silver carvings on the surface, giving it a sinister and vulgar appearance. That metal is eight iron, which carries magic power in itself.
This is something I made, you know, "Ipslo said." They all say that a staff cannot be made of metal, and that the staff can only be made of wood, but they are wrong. This head has integrated into my self, many, many. I want to leave it to him
His hands lovingly caressed the staff, while the staff sang a faint tune.
He said it again, almost as if he were talking to himself: 'My self is integrated here, many, many.'
It's a good wand. The Grim Reaper said.
Ipslo lifted it up and then lowered his head to look at his eighth son. The child giggled.
She originally wanted a daughter, "he said.
The Grim Reaper shrugged. Ipslo glanced at him, his eyes mixed with confusion and anger.
What exactly is he
The eighth generation of the eighth generation. Death gave a useless answer. The wind whipped his robe and pushed the dark clouds above his head.
What will this make him become
The great mage who masters the source of all magic, you know it very well.
With a thunderous roar, the timing was perfectly timed.
What about his fate? "Ipslo's roar drowned out the increasingly strong wind.
The Grim Reaper shrugged again. He is quite skilled in this action.
The fate of a great mage is created by oneself. They have little to do with this world.
Ipslo leaned against his wand, unable to stop tapping with his fingers, as if lost in his chaotic thoughts. His left eyebrow twitched.
No, "he said softly," no. I'll create his destiny for him
I suggest you don't do this.
Shut up and listen to me! They kicked me out with their books, their rituals, and their traditions! They call themselves wizards, but all the magic in their fat can't compare to my little finger! Exile! Me! Because I showed them that I'm still human! What would a person become without love
Very rare. The Grim Reaper replied, but in any case
Listen! They drove us here to the end of the world, and she was killed like this! They even wanted to take my wand! "Ipslo shouted over the wind.
Okay, I still have some strength left, "he roared." I predict that my son will go to the Underworld University, wear the hat of the principal, and all the wizards in the world will bow down to him! And he will let them see the deepest part of their hearts, their cowardly and greedy hearts. He will let the world see its true fate, and there will be no magic stronger than him
no The voice of the Grim Reaper was calm, but strangely, it was louder than the howling of a storm. Ipslo was startled and temporarily regained his sanity.
He swayed his body back and forth, appearing somewhat hesitant. What? "He asked.
I said no. Nothing is absolute. Of course, I am an exception. Playing with fate like this, you may bring about the end of the world, but it is unknown. We must leave a little hope, no matter how elusive. Fate has a group of lawyers who have long demanded that every prophecy must have loopholes to exploit.
Ipslo stared unwaveringly at the face of the Grim Reaper.
Do I have to give those wizards a chance
yes.
Da, da, da, Ipslo's fingers tapped on the metal staff.
So their opportunity will arise, "he said," when hell freezes over
no I cannot give you any hints about the current temperature in the next world, even just through default.
So, "Ipslo hesitated for a moment," then their opportunity will come when my son throws away his wand
No wizard would throw away their wand, "said the Grim Reaper," the connection between wizards and staffs is too tight.
But it's not impossible, you have to admit it
Death seems to be contemplating. He wasn't used to hearing the word 'must', but he seemed to acknowledge the other person's point of view.
agree He said.
Is this opportunity small enough in your opinion
Very slender, only one line.
Ipslo relaxed a bit and his voice almost returned to normal: 'I don't regret it, you know. Even if I start over from scratch, I won't change my mind. Children are our hope for the future.'
There is no hope for the future. The Grim Reaper said.
What else is inside it
I.
What I'm asking is besides you
Death gave him a puzzled look. i 'm sorry?
Above, the howling of the storm reached its highest point. A seagull flew over their heads upside down.
What I mean, "Ipslo said sorrowfully," is there anything in this world worth living for
Death pondered for a while.
Cat, in the end, he said, cats are pretty good.
Curse you
Many people have done this before. The Grim Reaper remained unmoved.
How much time do I have left
The Grim Reaper pulled out a large hourglass from an unknown hidden pocket beneath his robe. The black and gold shelves are surrounded by two glass balls, with almost all the sand particles leaking into the lower ball.
Oh, about nine seconds.
Ipslo straightened his body, and even at this age, his physique was still quite impressive. He handed the shining metal staff to the child. A small pink pincer like hand reached out from the blanket and grabbed it.
So, let me become the first and last wizard in history to pass on the wand to his eighth son, "he said firmly, word by word." I also want him to use it -
Time must be tight, if I were you
All power, "said Ipslo," become the strongest -
In the center of the dark clouds, a lightning bolt whistled down and hit the tip of Ipslo's hat. Lightning crackled down his arm and then flickered along the wand, hitting the child.
The wizard disappeared into a wisp of smoke. The staff lit up, changing from green to white, and finally turning red and hot. The child is smiling in their dream.
After the thunder passed, Death slowly reached out his hand to pick up the boy. The child opened their eyes.
The pupils shimmered with golden light from deep within. In the life of the Grim Reaper - well, saying 'life' may not be accurate, but we can't find a more suitable word for it at the moment - in short, for the first time in his life, he felt that someone's gaze made him so difficult to deal with. The gaze seemed to be focused on several inches deep inside his skull.
I didn't make this thunder. The sound of Ipslo came from the air. Is he injured?
No, Death reluctantly withdrew his gaze, not looking at the fresh and deep smile.
His power is under his control, he is a great mage. Even more terrifying things cannot hurt him, without a doubt. Now - you must come with me.
Don't.
I want it. Look, you're already dead. The Grim Reaper searched around for the ghostly figure swaying in Ipslo, but found nothing. Where are you?
In the wand.
The Grim Reaper leaned on his sickle and sighed.
Stupid. I can kick you out easily.
At the same time, it will also destroy the wand. To the Grim Reaper, there seemed to be a new sense of pride in Ipslo's voice. Since this child has already received the wand, destroying the wand will surely destroy him at the same time. You can never do anything that disturbs your destiny. My final magic. Quite beautiful, I have to say.
The Grim Reaper poked the staff. It made a crackling sound, and sparks crawled along the staff, giving off a chilling look.
It's strange, he doesn't feel particularly angry. Anger is an emotion, and to have emotions, you need glands, and Death has never had much interaction with glands. But he was still a little annoyed. He sighed. Humans always want to play this trick with him. But on the other hand, it's quite interesting to see them tinkering around, and at least it's slightly more creative than usual games like chess. Chess always makes the Grim Reaper nervous because he can't remember how the horse should move.
You are just slightly delaying the predetermined event. He said.
The so-called life is just like that.
But what exactly do you want to achieve?
I want to be by my son's side. I want to educate him, even though he may not know. I want to guide his rationality. Then, when he is ready, I will also guide his footsteps.
Tell me, Death asked, how did you guide the footsteps of your other sons?
I drove them away. They dare to argue with me, they refuse to listen to my teachings. But this one will listen.
Is it wise to do so?
The staff remained silent. Beside it, the boy giggled as he listened to the sound that only he could hear.
The world turtle Artuin is moving forward in the dark night of the Milky Way. It is hopeless to find an analogy to describe its posture. If you are also ten thousand miles long, covered in meteorite craters on your shell, and frosty from a cold comet, then the only person in the world who can truly be called similar to you is definitely yourself.
So, the largest turtle in history slowly swam in the deep space of interstellar space, with four giant elephants on its shell and a huge disk on the elephant's back, with a shimmering waterfall around the edge - this is the disc-shaped world, which exists either due to an impossible fluctuation on the probability curve or because gods like to joke around like mortals.
In fact, when it comes to joking, they are even better than most people.
Not far from the shore of the 'Ring of the Sea', there is an ancient city called Anko Mobock with a disorderly layout; There is a Ghost University in the city, and a velvet cushion with a hat is placed on a shelf high above the university.
This is the best hat, the most amazing hat.
It is pointed, needless to say, and it also has wide soft edges, but these are only the most basic details; After completing them, the designer truly began to showcase their skills. The hat has golden lace, pearls, rat skin (not even a single stray hair can be found), sparkling Anke stone, extremely vulgar sequins, and - of course, this one suddenly reveals its bottom - a circle of eight diamonds.
At present, the hat is not in a strong magic field, and the eight diamonds naturally do not emit light. It looks like a low-quality ordinary diamond.
Spring has arrived in Anko Mobock, although it is not yet obvious, some signs are clear in the eyes of experts. For example, the Anko River (a wide and slow-moving waterway that not only serves as a reservoir and sewer for this twin city, but also often acts as its morgue) has a particularly shiny green color emanating from the floating debris on its surface. For example, on the crooked roofs of the city, many mattresses and pillows suddenly appeared - it was because there was some weak sunlight, so everyone moved out their winter bedding to dry it out; In the cellar emitting a musty smell, the crossbeam also felt the ancient call of the forest and the earth, so it twisted its withered body and moaned one after another. The little bird built its nest on the eaves and drainage ditch of the Underworld University. Strangely, despite the abundance of birds and the scarcity of land, the pressure of settling down is clearly high, and the monster drainage outlets on the edge of the roof are so enthusiastic about opening their mouths, they never want to put their nests in these guys' mouths, which makes the numerous monster drainage outlets not disappointed.
There is a kind of spring that even sneaks into ancient universities. Tonight is Xiaoxianye, and Youming University is going to elect a new president.
Well, the election may not be entirely accurate because wizards refuse to have anything to do with the shameful act of voting. Besides, everyone knows who to choose as principal, it all depends on the will of the gods. This year, everyone knows that the immortals will definitely be able to choose the Wei Rui De Wei feast. Wei Ruide Wei Da Da is a pretty good old buddy who has patiently waited for many years.
The president of Youming University is the official leader of all wizards in the disc-shaped world. In the past, this meant he must have had the strongest magical power, but now the world is much more peaceful, and to be honest, most high-level wizards disdain real magic. They usually prefer management - safer than magic, with little less fun, not to mention being able to eat and drink.
Thus, the long afternoon gradually passed. In Wei Da's room, the principal's hat squatted on a faded cushion, while Wei Da himself sat in the bathtub in front of the fireplace, soaping his beard. Other wizards either doze off in their study or take a slow walk around the garden, so that they can have a good appetite during the dinner party; It is generally believed that eleven or twelve steps are sufficient.
In the hall, two hundred sculptures and portraits of former principals widened their eyes, monitoring the servants placing long tables and benches. And in the underground maze like kitchen - well, imagination probably doesn't need anyone's help, this kind of place is always full of oil stains, heat, and shouting, plus pots and pans of caviar, whole roasted cows, and strings of sausages that look like decorations cut from cardboard hanging from one wall to another. The head chef chose a cool room as the final decoration for his masterpiece - it was a model of the Underworld University, God knows why, it was carved with butter. He always comes to every banquet with such skills - butter swans, butter houses, and even a whole smelly and greasy yellow zoo. He was so ecstatic that no one could bear to stop him.
The chief servant stayed in his own maze in the cellar, sneaking between wine barrels, occasionally pouring out a glass and tasting the taste.
The anticipation in the air even permeated the Tower of Art, infecting the crows. The Tower of Art is 800 feet tall, far above other houses in the city, and is said to be the oldest building in the world. On its roof, peeling stones support many lush mini forests, in which several new beetles and small mammals have evolved. In recent years, the tower often sways with the gentle breeze, making people feel uneasy. Therefore, humans no longer climb here much, and the top of the tower has completely become a world of crows. At present, they are flying around the Tower of Art, looking a bit excited, like small insects before a thunderstorm arrives. It might be a good idea if someone below could give them some time.
Something terrible is about to happen.
You must have noticed, right?
Others are the same.
Did they take the wrong medicine? "Lingsifeng raised his voice, covering the noisy surroundings.
The librarian dodged a magic book with a leather cover - the book suddenly bounced out of the shelf and was suddenly grabbed in mid air due to the length of the iron chain. Then the administrator pounced and rolled down, just in time to press down on "The Discovery of Evil Fichio's Devil's Learning". At that time, the book was pounding the small bookshelf that bound itself, and the movements were orderly and methodical.
Yes - head! "He said.
Ling Sifeng pressed his shoulder against a trembling bookshelf and forced the rustling books to return to everyone with his knees. That noise is terrifying.
Books involving magic have their own lives. Some of them, to be honest, have incredibly strong vitality. For example, the first edition of "The Undead Communication" had to be sandwiched between two iron plates, "The Floating Truth" had been locked on the rafters for a full 150 years, and "De Fudge's Guide to Sexual Magic" even had to occupy a room - it was kept in a large basin of ice, and there were strict regulations that required wizards to be at least 80 years old to borrow the book, preferably already dead.
But now, even the ordinary old and new works on the big bookshelf are restless, like prisoners in a chicken coop, suddenly hearing something rustling under the door, causing the collective to panic and become nervous. There was a dull clicking sound coming from the middle of their tightly closed covers, as if someone was moving their paws.
What did you say? "Lingsifeng shouted in a sharp voice.
Yes - the head