The Master of the Strange Realm

"Sir, please tell me how to use my ability. It's the green one. Maybe it can be of some help?"

Jenkins then remembered what he had just learned. Only magic can fight against magic. Is this rule also useful in this world?

Section 4 Chapter 3 Curse and Clear Water

"In the outside world, our abilities rely on the release of our own [Spirit], but it is different in the Strange Realm. We only need to use our spirit to activate it. However, correspondingly, an ability can only be used during a [Deranged Realm] adventure. once."

After saying that, Barnard stretched out his rough hands and tremblingly held the golden bowl closest to him.

"Did I drink?"

I don’t know if he said it to Jenkins or to the man in black robe.

A large bead of sweat slid down from the middle-aged man's temple and dripped clearly onto the front of his black coat in front of Jenkins' eyes.

"Boy, if I take one sip this time, I will die, and you are lucky enough to go out and go directly to the church of [Sunless Moon] to inform you of my death. By the way, my full name is Wayne Slabin Ba Nader.”

"Sir, we will all live."

Jenkins swallowed. Although it was not the choice of his fate now, he had to say something in this situation:

"Otherwise, I should drink first. You have more experience than me and can get more information through my results." He suggested carefully. The probability of choosing one out of ten is not much different from that of one out of nine.

"Haha, kid, thank you very much. But I haven't done enough to let the little rookie explore the way for me."

The two of them never mentioned the idea of ​​killing the man in black robe, because the other person's aura had already paralyzed their hands and feet just by sitting in front of them. Killing them didn't even require the man in black robe to stretch out. Point your finger out.

Without saying anything more, Barnard wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead with his left hand, held the bowl in his right hand and drank from it.

Jenkins gasped for air. He didn't know whether it was because of the thin air in the unventilated room or because his heartbeat was too fast. He was in the same mood as when the card was drawn with a gold back.

After a second where time seemed to stand still, Barnard breathed a sigh of relief and put down the golden bowl in his hand.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Even though he knew it was his turn next, Jenkins breathed a sigh of relief.

Barnard turned his head stiffly, a dry smile appeared on his stubbled face, then pointed at his throat and waved his hands - he was mute.

There was no mirror, so Jenkins couldn't see the expression on his face. But he finally knew that his mouth was open now and his face should be very pale.

Licking his chapped lips, he reached into his arms. After a while, he took out several stacked newspapers, and then took out a badly worn pen from his right pocket.

The former was taken out of his home and originally planned to be torn into pieces and thrown into other people's yards. The latter was a gift given to Jenkins by old William when he thought he could still be saved. Although the original owner of Jenkins' body hated studying, he still valued his family very much, so he cherished this pen very much.

Barnard immediately understood what Jenkins meant. He took the pen and paper, did not dare to use the table, just put it on the palm of his hand and wrote:

"It's okay, this is just an ordinary curse. There will be specialized personnel in the church who can help me after we go out."

This may be the only good news that Jenkins has learned so far. But since this is a curse and not an injury, his healing abilities may not be of use.

It was his turn next, but Barnard sat aside without urging.

The man in black robe opposite probably means that both of them want to drink, so even if Barnard drinks another bowl, it may be useless.

Jenkins' chest heaved violently, and various scenes in less than an hour after traveling came to mind. It is a blessing? Is it a disaster? No one knows.

He raised his head, trying hard to see the figure under the black hood opposite, but the hood absorbed all the light from the candle like a black hole.

After watching for a long time, Jenkins seemed to have a slight tinnitus.

He looked at the nine remaining golden bowls on the dirty round dining table, "Mr. Barnard, my full name is Jenkins Redemption Willamette, and I live at No. 7 Privet Drive, Pennsy. "

After saying that, regardless of the middle-aged man's reaction, he stood up, picked up the golden bowl closest to the man in black robe, and drank directly.

The heart was pumping plasma at maximum power, and the fast-flowing blood made Jenkins' head turn red. His cold limbs made him not even feel the strange touch in his hands.

When the liquid first touched his lips, it had no taste. Then Jenkins felt his hands uncontrollably sending all the liquid into his mouth. Now he knew where Barnard's heroic action came from.

When all the liquid disappeared in his mouth, he put the bowl back on the table with blank eyes and sat down again.

"What should I do now?"

He asked himself in his mind, and then suddenly realized that he had survived.

The man on the side immediately pushed the newspaper with writing on it: "How do you feel?"

"It's not bad, it's like, no, I really just drank half a bowl of water."

He didn't expect that the revolving door would appear, and the final result would be like this. Although it was a bit anticlimactic, Jenkins still thanked the gods and Buddhas in the sky that he could think of.

It was at this moment that he remembered that his body now believed in the [Sage of Inheritance], which symbolized the tenth month of each year. This righteous god's responsibilities included knowledge, books, secrets, exploration, inheritance, etc.

Although old William was just a small businessman, he firmly believed that knowledge can change destiny, so William's whole family was a believer in this god.

"May the [Sage of Inheritance] bless you and let your light illuminate the path forward for mankind."

He thought silently in his mind.

The normal prayer process should also include a set of corresponding gestures, but the original Jenkins, who was not very determined, had a very vague impression of this.

The two of them drank a bowl each, but nothing changed. The man in black robe still sat there and was completely invisible.

"Can we go?" Jenkins did not act in vain, but asked the experienced Mr. Barnard again.

The man also looked a little dazed. He couldn't speak, so he could only use gestures to signal Jenkins not to move, and then tried to stand up by himself.

Obviously nothing happened when Jenkins stood up to get the golden bowl, but at this moment Barnard seemed to be pressed down by a hundred kilogram weight and fell heavily back onto the wooden pile.

With a slight crackling sound, a crack immediately appeared on one side of the stake, and Jenkins was now worried about Mr. Barnard's butt.

"Are you okay?"

When he asked, he realized it was a stupid question.

Barnard, whose face turned red in pain, gritted his teeth and shook his head. Fortunately, he couldn't make a sound now, otherwise Jenkins was worried that he would roar.

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Section 5 Chapter 4 Wooden Bowl

"Do we need to drink them all?"

He tentatively asked the man in black robes, but of course he received no answer. Barnard wrote a paragraph.

Compared with the previous words, this text written in the margin between the advertisements for maids and detectives is obviously much more scrawled.

"No, some of the liquids in these bowls obviously have big problems. If we drink them all, it will kill us. Past experience tells us that although the [Mysterious Land] is weird and dangerous, it rarely A mortal challenge.”

He hesitated and wrote another paragraph: "Maybe this is just a test of our courage, as long as we drink a certain number of bowls within a limited time."

is that so? This is just a guess. After all, the two of them wasted a lot of time after they came in, although most of them were Jenkins asking questions.

Barnard put down Jenkins' pen, carefully capped it and pinned it to the newspaper, then wordlessly picked up a golden bowl. He raised his head and drank it all, with a look of surprise on his face for the first time.

"Very lucky."

He put down the bowl and wrote quickly on the newspaper: "I have gained a new ability."

"Will it help solve the current situation?"

Jenkins immediately asked hopefully.

Barnard's excited expression immediately stopped, and he withdrew the newspaper again, "No."

"Should I not interrupt his excitement?"

Jenkins thought silently as the middle-aged man beside him returned to his nervous and silent state again.

Although the silence is forced.

It's Jenkins' turn again, and there are now 7 bowls left to choose from out of ten.

He tried to visually determine the differences between each bowl, but was disappointed to find that the bowls were exactly the same.

You must know that there are no large-scale electronic mechanized assembly lines in this era. Today's factories can afford the word "flesh and blood" more than Futukang. Therefore, theoretically speaking, it is absolutely impossible for two identical bowls to appear.

"Is it a supernatural creature?"

Jenkins could only guess that his knowledge of these things was very sparse, and the existing information was not enough for him to judge the situation at hand.

He hesitantly reached out his hand again, while silently calculating in his heart:

"Ten bowls, now one curse, one reward and one clear water. If the above is the correct probability, then the situation I will face is not the worst. No, the sample is too small, and in this case, the worst result should be calculated, In other words, there is only one reward, less than three bowls of water..."

"Am I dead?"

He was thinking in his mind, and all kinds of complicated thoughts kept popping up. The revolving lanterns appeared again. Jenkins ignored them, licked his lips, picked up the bowl next to the candle and drank in one gulp.

This was already the second time he drank these liquids, so in the process of "drinking", he finally had the intention to pay attention to touch in addition to taste.

"Why does this bowl feel like it's made of wood?"

While thinking about this, Jenkins put down the bowl.

He is still alive and appears to be unscathed.

"It's sour and tastes like expired black tea."

He explained to the nervous man beside him, who breathed a sigh of relief.

No, nothing happened. Something seemed to appear next to the three light spots in front of me. Jenkins concentrated on looking at the air in front of him and finally discovered that it was a bubble.

At the same time, he also noticed that there were three bubbles in his original field of vision, but he didn't notice them before.

Jenkins now has a total of three blips and four bubbles.

After hesitating for a moment, because he didn't know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, Jenkins told Barnard the situation at hand. Of course, there is no mention of the number of bubbles that were originally present.

Barnard showed a surprised expression, and then turned into depression.

"Nothing, this is a good thing." He wrote slowly, "You are lucky, let's talk about it after we go out..."

One bowl per person, two rounds have passed, but the black-robed man still has no intention of letting them go.

"How can we leave?"

Jenkins finally couldn't help but speak to the person opposite him. Although he knew in his heart that this was too rash, he had to do it.

No response, still terrible silence.

Barnard pulled Jenkins's sleeves covered with dust and sweat and shook his head at him.

The man's face showed a resolute expression again. He didn't write another word, but picked up the bowl in front of him, raised his head and drank it again.

After pausing for two or three seconds, he shook his head and wrote the two words "clear water".

Jenkins didn't know whether he should cry or laugh. His expression at this moment must be very ugly. The silence of the black-robed man meant that he would continue to drink, but half of the ten bowls were over, but only one "mine" was stepped on.

No matter how you think about it, it is clear that the original ten bowls should represent bad results. Otherwise, it is not fair to the words "weird" and "dangerous" that Barnard said. So the remaining choices for him are likely to be poison and curse.

But he had to choose. Barnard had bravely tried three times. Jenkins had no reason and no ability to force him to drink another bowl. The black-robed man opposite was not a good person at first glance. If the table was overturned at this time, I am afraid that the two of them would really not see the sun tomorrow.

"My luck is too bad."

Even if Jenkins was not a complaining person before crossing, he couldn't help but sigh for the situation in front of him, which could almost be called a desperate situation.

What Jenkins could think of, Barnard could also think of. But he didn't know how to comfort the young man in front of him, so he could only hold the paper and pen in silence and try to let him choose by himself.

"Think about it, is there any clue left? Can I only gamble on luck?"

Jenkins shouted to himself in his heart, but it looked like a clown's behavior before death.

He hesitated to reach out his hand, tried a few times and took it back.

"Mr. Barnard, do you think there is any difference between these ten bowls?"

Turning his head, he stared and asked, his palms were slippery because of sweat.

"These ten bowls look exactly the same, all wooden bowls with messy lines painted on them. William, [The Strange Realm] will not force us to a dead end, so there must be a way out among the remaining bowls."

The second half of his words was kindly comforting the desperate young man in front of him, but Jenkins didn't notice it at all.

Wooden bowl?

He frowned and looked at the word hastily spelled out on the newspaper, and confirmed again and again that the word in the inherited memory only meant "wooden bowl, mostly referring to old, chipped and worthless garbage."

Section 6 Chapter 5 Gold Finger Arrived