[comprehensive] accumulated gold and bone

Buying tickets, going through customs, boarding the ship, getting something to eat, finding a bed to sleep in, all the tasks were completed smoothly.

During the one-day and one-night boat ride, he could sleep until the end, but at two o'clock in the morning, he lay on the damp quilt in the cabin room, so exhausted that he wished to fall asleep immediately, his mind was still clear, thinking about some irrelevant things.

The salty smell of seawater and the musty smell of wooden boards linger in the nose, the murmur of the sea, and the voices of people next door with poor sound insulation.

"Mitya, Mitya..."

A child yelled in the distance.

"Mikhailo!"

He woke up and raised his hand to block the glare of the sun.

"Look at that, is it on fire?"

Katya pointed to a village far, far away that was sunk in the night. He stood on the edge of a grassy high hill full of sunshine and stared intently at it. Under the thick smoke, there were scarlet flames jumping and flickering. .

"Today is the spring festival in the clan, a bonfire is lit, don't worry about it."

"Your father is the high priest, and you have to help him."

"High Priest...Father." He wondered why Katya said that, "He is dead, and the bandits gouged out his eyes."

Katya's blond hair fluttered in the warm spring breeze, and her blue-green pupils, which were as clear as water in the sun, turned an angry and distressed red.

"I'm going!"

Under the black curtain, as if the scythe of death had been cut, the surrounding fields suddenly turned red, and they were already in the fire and blood, in the shadow of boulders and bushes.

Within half a second, he felt palpitations, which were extremely terrifying. He covered his mouth and pushed him into the bushes. After walking out of the boulder, he ran into the robbers who came to check.

He jumped over them, stepped over the broken limbs of his tribe, and flowed through the stream of blood. Tears flowed from his fiery red eyes, and he knelt down on his father's broken body.

A knife stabbed lightly, according to one of the robbers, it was suitable for killing a child.

He blocked it with his hand, the knife pierced his palm, and the blade rubbed against his thin bones. He pulled it out numbly, and used his injured hand to tear off the pendant from his father's neck and hold it tightly. He heard someone say: Captain, He is not blond, his blood is not pure, and his name is not on the genealogy. It is okay not to have these fiery red eyes.

"Why do you do such a thing?"

He didn't understand why someone would come suddenly, without any vengeance, kill all the people in the village and goug out their eyes, he really didn't understand.

"For these beautiful fiery eyes." The person called the leader replied with a smile.

It sounds like beauty deserves a bad death.

"Is our life bought by money?"

"Yes, child."

After the group leader finished speaking, he stopped talking.

The words of the others echoed with laughter.

"wealth!"

"gold!"

"Money can buy everything!"

"It's enough for people in the world to have money!"

Fuchou opened his eyes, the gloomy light made his pupils turn blue.

Over the years, these two messy dreams have been repeated over and over again.

Something was on his mind, and he couldn't sleep deeply or stay asleep. Fu Chi went out in his clothes and walked on the deck. The ship was shaking on the sea.

It was dawn, the sun was about to rise, and everything was rising. Fuchou looked down at the waves broken by the boat and the dark colors settled in the depths of the waves.

The ship docked slowly at the last port before entering another world, and a group of passengers flooded up.

The people next to him leaning against the railing of the boat wept farewell to their relatives and friends, and loudly explained something to the people on the shore. They were so full of emotion and human touch that they had to find another place. When he walked to the cabin, he saw a clown in the corner Athletic man with red hair in costume is playing poker.

Fuchou remembered that he was number four of the Spider Brigade, and his name was Hisoka.

"Hello," Fucho stood in front of him, lowered his eyes to look at him, his eyelashes cast shadows, covered his pupils, and asked straightforwardly, "Do you know Kurapika?"

Hisoka was not interested in the rich and the weak, so he replied casually, "I know that kid."

"So you know where he is?"

"No, I don't know where Kurapika is. No one except Spider-Man may know, and maybe even he doesn't know. Ah, I do know where Kuroro is."

"Alright." Fu Chou raised his eyes and thought for a while, then said, "You can make an offer for Kurolo Luxilu's position."

"The blue-green eyes, and the hatred in those eyes," Hisoka suddenly said, "Are you from the Kuruta tribe?"

He moved his fingers, and the spinning poker brushed the corner of Fucho's eyes at high speed, leaving a thin bloodstain.

"No, not blond, and the eyes don't turn red."

"My blood is not pure."

"It's still very interesting. I'll tell you about his position right away. There is no need to pay the price."

Hisoka then spoke to him.

"Krollo is curious about the integration of the world. He is exploring the world and doing research on philosophy and religion. He is in that world recently.

"It was a world of monsters, evil spirits, exorcists, and people with superpowers.

"Religious organizations such as Tianzhaoguan, Pavilion of Creation, Reincarnation Society, Ultimate Future Research Society, Xiaohua, etc. are flourishing, and he should stay there for a while, I don't know about the others.

"good luck."

Fuchao will disembark the ship the next time it docks, go to another port, and take a boat to another world.

On board he received a flyer that a famous master of theology would give a lecture in Ito City in that world three days later.

Two days later, he disembarked and traveled day and night to Ito City, finally in time for the opening of the lecture.

But until the end of the three-hour lecture, he didn't see anyone suspected of Kuroro.

When he left the lecture hall, he was at a loss in the crowd. Everyone he saw had emotions on their faces. Laughter, touch, sadness, anger, and even indifference seemed to be full of life and flesh and blood, while he looked at the bright and clean window on the street. When I saw my own face, I almost thought it was a mask, covered with blank and meaningless lines, cracked when hit by stones, and washed by rain, the colors on the mask paint would be mixed together, black and white and blue and green, nothing Red; no red eyes, stripped of the blood of the family, is it what you look forward to, father, it will not shame you again.

After a while, Fuchou decided to go to Youkexin City to look for it if he couldn't find it within five days.

After recovering, he realized that the window facing him was a gallery decorated in an independent style, and various photography and sculpture artworks were being exhibited in it. He was attracted by a painting displayed in it, and couldn't help but walk in.

The painting is a space that seems to be open but actually closed. The space is mixed, cumbersome and empty, chaotic and desolate, with strong color contrast. The composition makes people see a face with no joy or sorrow, looking down on everything.

"This painting is called "Fate."

A person next to him introduced it to him.

"The author of the painting is unknown, and it was returned several times after it was sold, because although the technique and emotion are unparalleled, it is inexplicably depressing, and it will bring a great burden to people's heart after looking at it for a long time."

He had dreamed of this voice countless times, turned his head, and saw Kuroro standing beside him, looking at him peacefully.

"You are that child back then, you don't have red eyes anymore."

"Yes."

Fufu did not see the excitement of the enemy.

"Aren't you seeking revenge on me?"

"I can suppress my emotions, and my reason tells me that on the one hand, I can't kill you, and on the other hand, if you die ten thousand times, it will be useless to me and my goal."

"So, how can I help you?"

"Find Kurapika."

"Okay, I'll help you."

Several members of his brigade died at Kurapika's hands, and he didn't blame Fu Fu.

"What reason do you have to help me?"

"I'll take you to him, provided you tell me why you're looking for him."

Fuchao didn't want to spend an extra half a second on wrangling.

"The world is merging, let me tell you that it is not surprising that there are gods."

"True God?" This is a novelty.

"Unclear. Our ancestors made an unbreakable oath with him, that is, he cannot trade with the Kuruta people, and the Kuruta people who hold this pendant can trade with him three times. The transactions are not equal. The ancestors only I used it once, and in exchange for the whole family to live in seclusion in the paradise for a hundred years, later generations worshiped him as a god by accident."

Kuroro quickly thought about it: "What did you exchange for him with your red eyes?"

"The ability to travel through worlds."

"reason?"

"Because the same transaction requires 30 tons of gold."

There is a limit to the total amount of gold in a single world, and there is an absolute limit to the amount of money a person can collect. If he wants to reach this amount, he must go to other worlds. At that time, he had nothing, and the only thing he could trade was Red Eye.

And on the condition of 30 tons of gold, with a person with the blood of the orthodox Kuluta tribe as the medium, what can this astronomical figure be exchanged for?

"Can I know? If you don't want revenge, what exactly do you want?"

After a while, Kuroro heard him spit out those three words stiffly.

"Kuruta."

He is like a cruel and crazy ghost, carrying a never-ending curse, paving the way to hell with good intentions all the way, just to bring back his ideal land and resurrect the whole family.

The author has something to say:

The day before Jesus was crucified, he said:

"God, please raise up that man who was cast down by the wall, and take away this dreadful cup."