Academic Gathering with Lich Colleagues

Chapter 58 Conversation with the Dead

"Gollum."

"Gollum."

It bounced slightly and vibrated, making sounds like a living heart, and though it sounded more like a restless stomach, Lyle knew it wasn't hungry.

Lyle's talent changed, and in the opposite direction of his expectations, the vine of fate left the scaffolding he built and stretched toward the sky.

His talent ball is more of an individual.

Although forced orders can still control its actions, Lyle can detect the thought hiding in the corner, it has a self.

The unfamiliar consciousness caused Lyle to alienate it a bit, even though it was a gift of his own, shoveling the ball in the leather bag, tying the knot, and dropping it on the table.And told Medusa and Grape to pay attention to the changes, Lyle lay on the bed.

"My master, it's been a long night, you put me on this cold table, looking at a leather bag? We met for the first time, shouldn't you hold me in your hand and exchange feelings?" Medusa's upper body Raised high, looking here.

"No, your length is only twenty centimeters, and I don't have the habit of sleeping with a log in my arms."

"What a gracious gentleman."

"Thank you for the compliment, and good night, Ms. Medusa."

The next day.

The end of the white stick knocked on the slate floor of the main street, Lyle changed into a neat sheriff's uniform, the sun shone on the top of his hat, and a touch of warmth came from the top of his head.

With fresh air and a mild climate, Lyle was in a good mood for the first day of returning to work.

Halfway through the road, his body twisted unnaturally.

Touching the smooth end of the staff, the dragon was not on it.

The fabric on the back was soaked through and stuck together, making it very uncomfortable.

That's not the reason for sweat.

He tugged at the back of his shirt.

"Gollum."

Yes, the ball was brought in, too, and it transformed itself into a large, thin fabric that stuck to Lyle's back, and the mucus that secreted wet the lining.

And Medusa was moving in the clothes, sliding from the left sleeve to the chest to the right shoulder, as if in revenge, Lyle had to endure the tickling touch.

"Can you be quiet, Medusa."

The thing entrenched in the abdomen swam up, along the collarbone of the abdominal ribcage, and a small head drilled out of Lyle's collar.

"I'm sorry, Master, the smell of the young boy makes me a little itchy."

"Can't you just stay in your pocket, or go back to the cane."

"I'm getting familiar with you, getting used to your magic flow, so that you can cast spells better in the future, and you don't want to fail your spells, right? If you put me on the bed last night, maybe this process would have been completed long ago, right? Are you a little regretful?"

"I'm very grateful for my decision last night, at least I got a night of peace."

"Stubbornness is not a good quality. Many people suffer because of it, and you are no exception."

Lyle limped to the police station.

Fortunately, Medusa was quite measured and stopped teasing in front of her acquaintances.

Mr. Jordan was at the front desk, his eyebrows were twisted into a ball. In front of him, there were two men arguing. They came to the police station to report each other for breaking the law, and they started a war of words.

Mr. Wilt has disappeared, which seems to be good news. Mr. Jordan's stinky face is much better than his fake smile. At least today, he can relax a little.

Passing through the front hall and coming to the main living room, the noble man didn't rest here that day, and maybe it wasn't their working time yet, Lyle was relieved, at least he didn't have to perform a hat-off to them stiffly.

The office is full of people, and Mr. Garrett's desk documents never seem to diminish, sign, stamp, sign, stamp.

Occasionally, there are documents that give him a sullen face, the twisted brow bone that seems to be clipping his monocle.

"Good morning, Mr. Garrett."

"Good morning, little Buller." He didn't even raise his head to look at himself, but called himself accurately.

"You came a lot earlier than I thought, young people are good, and the body recovers really fast."

It appears that Ralph really reported that lie.

"Just in time, your [Independent Studio] has a new task for you, remember to write a report."

"Okay, sir." It's only been a few days, and there are more dead people, worthy of the dark middle ages.

"Wait, little Buller." Mr. Garrett stopped writing, no swishing, and his lensless eye squinted and scanned Lyle.

"Take this."

Mr. Garrett took out a golden coupon from the drawer, with a shiny golden border, but soft as cloth.

Lyle just saw this thing.

"Indulgence?"

"If your injury isn't healed, don't hold on. Your posture is deformed now. Take this to take good care of it."

"Thanks, sir." Although his weirdness wasn't due to the alleged lack of hip tissue.

"I'm too lazy to wait for that bastard to come to me and ask for this, so I'll just give it to you. It's strange to say that, according to his habit, he should have come to me this way, and nothing has happened so far."

Lyle smiled. Ralph knew his real situation, so naturally he wouldn't lower his face to ask for help. Seeing this, Garrett had helped Uncle Cheap a lot.

"Thank you again."

"Thank you very much, just write a satisfactory report to me."

Lyle took off his top hat, put it on his chest, and bowed slightly, although Mr. Garrett, who was busy again, did not pay attention.

Lyle stepped into the iron gate behind the tarpaulin.

A haggard beggar, his rags covered in dust and filth, dark skinned and emaciated, his fourth rib could be seen just by sight.

His mouth was wide open, food scraps could be seen through the gaps between his teeth, and his eyes were white.

The body is well preserved, with no scars.

Looking at the file, it was a beggar who was given alms by a well-known squire. When giving food, he choked to death because he ate too fast.

Looking at the state of the body, this inference is indeed reasonable.

If a person who has been hungry for a long time suddenly overeats, the body does not have the corresponding digestion ability, and excessive intake will cause damage, especially for the life that is already a candle in the wind.

No, no, according to the past, this beggar is likely to be hastily buried, why would someone entrust to find out the real cause of death, probably because the squire felt that his reputation was murdered, and wanted to uphold justice and defend himself.

If it was in the past, the physical symptoms and food residues in the mouth were checked, and the cause of death was probably determined.

But today, Lyle has a new approach.

He took out a dark purple five-petaled nightshade from his belt.

You should also work like a real seance.

Corpse resuscitation.

Like a defibrillation, the corpse's chest rises high and then falls, it rolls over, supports itself on its hands and feet, and slowly kneels.

Because of his flesh and blood, the soul flame is not exposed, just like a normal person.

"Choke me to death, it's really a suffocating way to die." This was the first sentence the corpse said.

Lyle nodded, "So, choked to death, suicide?"

"No, it was an attempted murder."

"Ok?"

"Although I suffocated because the food blocked the windpipe. But if you dissect the stomach and analyze the composition of those food scraps, you will find a little chronic poison."

"That sane man poisoned the food. Even if I didn't choke to death, after three or two days, the acid in the stomach bag would decompose the outer protection, causing the poison to die. At that time, the death had nothing to do with him. ."

"It might just be your guess."

"No, I heard it with my own ears, he said it with his own mouth, [Damn, how could he die so early, the poison should not have occurred yet.]"

"Hear it with your own ears? When?"

"Twelve minutes after my death, the beggars around him scattered, leaving only him and me as a corpse."

"...You have to know that dead people can't be witnesses."

"Then open my stomach and take out the poisoned food for proof."

(End of this chapter)