Crown of Silence

Chapter 121 A Letter from a Stranger (Part 2)

Outside the boiler room, the sky and the earth were still blazing, like another bigger furnace.

At some point, even the sea breeze stopped. The whole city felt like it was soaked in boiled glue, making people feel even more anxious.

But under the fierce sunlight, the pure white city reflects the dazzling light and looks extremely brilliant.

Just above such a brilliant, shining, heaven-like city, in the towering upper city, a line of dirty black smoke slowly rose.

Under the vigorous blowing of the boiler room workers, the slag turned into dust was flying in the flames. These sinful residues rode the scorching hot wind, slowly rising from the thick chimney, and finally broke away from the shackles of the chimney. .

Freed from their restraints, they became free and swelled, like ink smeared in water.

In the windless sky, the black smoke stared like iron, rising slowly and solemnly into the sky, as if it was determined to touch the stars.

From a distance, it looks like a huge black pillar, staring towards the sky.

Just like the first bird rising from the branch, it must be followed by a flock of birds.

Soon, the second black smoke rose, followed by the third, fourth...

Everyone in the entire city was looking up toward the upper city in astonishment, looking at the black smoke that was almost solidifying in the sky.

The crowd was talking a lot, and some people were excitedly counting the number of smoke pillars: "Five, six... eleven, twelve... sixteen, seventeen! Seventeen!"

Just under the scorching sun, between the sea and the sky, above the city glowing.

A total of seventeen streaks of black smoke rose straight into the sky, like pillars supporting the sky.

Just like in the legend, the blood of glory is the backbone that supports the sky of the empire... However, some things have been stained into the bones.

At this moment, many people looked up attentively, looking at the smoke filled with anger and shame, as if they saw swollen faces, and laughed with gloating.

However, well-informed people have begun to be cautious and put the name that almost set the upper city on fire on the dangerous list.

Sherlock Holmes.

Who is Sherlock Holmes?

——

"This is a warning."

In the lower city, the shaman said: "A provocation and a warning to everyone."

"Warning?" Guishou was puzzled: "Who is it for?"

"To all who can see it."

The shaman looked at those smoke pillars as if he were looking at a masterpiece of art, so his eyes were filled with admiration and wonder.

"That guy Holmes is also planning on building a city area?"

Guishou seemed to have heard a joke and couldn't believe it.

"Why not? Every monster deserves his own hunting ground, right?"

In the darkness, the shaman chuckled:

"Anyone who has been to the dark world will understand that there are some fallen races who like to hang their own signs on their territories to declare their sovereignty.

Or delicate white bones, or dried corpses, or some barbaric totems.

Once you see it, you'll understand it, and then it's best to be wise and turn away. Because that's what they're saying to you.

And when you see those signs...

——He is also looking at you. "

-

"What a lively show, so beautiful."

In front of the window, the white-haired boy looked at the black smoke rising into the sky and laughed softly: "Really, your faces are much prettier than yours back then."

No one responded.

"Just take this as a sign that the Exiled Son has returned."

He seemed to be staring at those faces and murmured softly: "This time is just a casual reminder, but sooner or later, those things that should be liquidated will be repaid..."

Shadows of the past flashed through the young man's eyes.

He slowly drew the curtains and stopped looking.

In the dark room, he sat on a chair and felt the seemingly infinite strength leaving him bit by bit.

For several days, the pain and contradiction that echoed in his heart, the hesitation and confusion that kept him awake at night seemed to have disappeared.

It was replaced by a long-lost sleepiness. They rose up like a tidal wave, drowning him.

The boy smiled and closed his eyes. Sink into a peaceful dream. In the dream, maybe those nightmares from the past will not appear again, right?

Finally, I can get a good night's sleep for a while.

——

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

In the port area, on a small boat that was slowly sailing toward the depths of the ocean, someone made a hoarse sound.

The man swore hoarsely and overturned the table beside him angrily: "Fucking Holmes! Fucking Holmes!"

He stared at the ominous black smoke coiling over Avalon, his eyes crazy and desperate: "I should have killed you right then and there, you damn bastard!"

It was as if he was suffering from severe malaria or a strange infectious disease. This man was covered in blue and red, but his face was pale, and transparent chicken pox gradually appeared on his pale face.

He huddled up in the corner of the cabin with a frightened look in his eyes. He was obviously wrapped in a blanket, but his body was shivering uncontrollably.

Under the blanket, the skin gradually swelled, blistered, and rotted...

No one would have thought that the Rat King, who was so majestic last night, would degenerate to this extent today. He now really looks like a rotting dead rat.

Anyone can see that he is finished.

Ever since he found out that he had lost the fatal notebook last night, he has been in a state of panic. He originally hoped that Holmes would not be able to understand his notebook, but he did not expect that in his hands, his notebook was much easier to read than a novel.

This morning, he received a rumor that many people were secretly looking for him.

He originally hoped that those big shots could protect him, but when he knew that those big shots had received a mysterious letter, he knew that he was finished.

In the past, they were the umbrella of the Rat Club, but after the incident, they had become the Rat Club's killers.

Soon, his power will be uprooted and brutally purged, and his existence will be completely washed away and changed. A new lackey will take over and serve those big shots again.

But he must die, he will definitely die.

No one will let a person who knows too much live, especially a bastard like Sam who is willing to say anything to save his life.

In the pain surging in his body, he bit the quilt tightly, resisted the dizziness and sleepiness, and refused to fall asleep. Once he fell asleep, everything would be over.

"Faster, faster..."

He murmured in a low voice, his eyes full of fear - he thought his escape route was perfect, but it was not until he got on the boat that he found that he was planted with a blood curse.

It turned out that the most deadly noose was tied to his neck from beginning to end. As long as that end moved slightly, he would suffocate to death in pain.

Now, he only hoped that this speedboat would take him away from Avalon as soon as possible. The musician who advanced to the blood curser was in Avalon. The farther away from Avalon, the weaker the curse power. He only hoped that he could find a saint who could remove the curse for him as soon as possible.

But this was impossible. The crisp sound became clearer and clearer in his ears.

It was a life-threatening melody, destroying his vitality through his bones and marrow.

"Blind mice, three blind mice~three blind mice! Look at them running!"

In the silence, there was only the sound of bubbles bursting one after another. Sam screamed in pain, but he seemed to hear a child singing softly. The song was full of malice, robbing his life like a maggot on the tarsal bone:

"Cut off their tails, dig out their little eyes, their cute hairy bodies~Pull out their hands and feet, shave off their sweet marrow, and their warm internal organs are gone..."

The crisp child's voice was in his heart. Singing softly in his ear: "Have you ever seen something like this? Like these three blind mice...

Blind mice, three blind mice..."

"Wow!"

Sam's pale face suddenly opened, he opened his mouth and vomited out the food that had condensed in his stomach. They were already moldy, like soup boiled in a garbage dump...

Sam was stunned, and raised his palms dully. His trembling palms were almost unconscious. The flesh and blood seemed to have disappeared, and there was only a pile of skin and bones.

He finally raised his head and looked at the cabinet. The mirror on the cabinet was broken, and the broken lens fell in front of him, reflecting his withered face.

Warm blood flowed out of his facial features, coldly taking away every bit of heat in his body.

He screamed in despair, but he didn't even have the strength to scream.

He cried bitterly, but he couldn't cry tears. He prayed, to God, to the devil, to the demons and ghosts, and everything that could help him.

As long as he could survive, he was willing to pay any price.

"Including your soul?"

A hoarse voice asked softly in his ear. He raised his head with his last bit of strength and stared at the figure who appeared in the cabin at some point.

He no longer had the strength to be afraid, tears of gratitude flowed from the corners of his eyes, and he blinked his eyes with difficulty.

It seemed to be saying please save me, please save me, please save me. No matter what I do... it doesn't matter as long as I live.

"Then sign it?"

The black shadow coldly threw a contract with a piece of music in front of him: "As long as you still have the strength to sell your soul, you can live."

The Rat King was like being pardoned, and he was struggling on the ground, like a rotten caterpillar, arching towards the unfolded contract bit by bit.

It was as if the sinners in hell were crawling towards heaven, thirsting for salvation.

Little by little, full of hope, full of humiliation, full of joy, he pressed his rotten palm on the contract.

A faint light shone on the contract, burned out of thin air, and disappeared without a trace.

"Very good."

In the dark without light, the shadow in the black robe smiled and snapped his fingers. In the void, the child's voice stopped abruptly, and disappeared after a scream.

On the ground, only a dying rotten human body was left, dying.

"Congratulations, after selling the last thing, you can continue to live."

The shadow stretched out a slender and white palm from the black robe. On his finger was an amber ring, reflecting the warm and dark light.

"Say hello to your new master."

On the ground, the Rat King shed tears of gratitude and kissed the ring with great piety:

"Yes, great master, great professor, great...

- Mr. Moriadi."