Endless Debt.

Chapter 400 Endless Psalm
The crew, or...the Wujie Poetry Club.

Burrog looked at the blood-stained head, even though death was imminent, the man's face was still full of joy, as if what awaited him was not death, but some kind of holy heaven.

"Tell me more about the Wujie Poetry Club."

Boluogo has been targeted by the Unbound Poetry Society, and even experts can't figure out what these unruly lunatics want from themselves.

"Sorry, Bureau of Order... No, the secret associations of the entire Rhineland League don't know much about the Unbound Poetry Society, and we don't even know who the devil they believe in is entrenched behind it."

Levius told a lie, a white lie, and they knew which devil was running it all.

"We only know that the devil is just like the name of the Wujie Poetry Club, and his honorific title has changed a lot with the changes of history.

World watcher, connoisseur, onlooker, grand recorder..."

Respected titles were confided by Lebius one after another.

"Many demons have interfered in the world. Relying on these traces, we can trace their existence, but...the bystanders are different."

In the end, Lebius chose to call the other party "bystander".

"All our knowledge of the Bystander comes from the Unbound Poetry Society. As for the Bystander himself, no one has ever seen him with his own eyes...at least that's how it is recorded."

Lebius said, "Some people even suspect that the bystander does not exist, he is just an existence imagined by these lunatics from the Unbound Poetry Society, but these lunatics, or poets, do have traces of devil power. "

The story he told was true, at least until Lebius was allowed to know the existence of the Bystander, who he thought was just a false legend.

The bystander is not a legend, he is real, hiding in the depths of the Bureau of Order, in the daylight-filled hotel, as an absolute bystander, watching the war between humans and devils, and his brothers and sisters.

Bologo recalled the story of Serley. In the story, those lunatics didn't care about wealth and power at all. What they longed for were perfect plays, collected countless poems, and told stories from far away...

Poetry, picture scrolls, books and even today's movies, all of these are the carriers of stories.

"Just like the Scarlet Rot Sect would sacrifice flesh and blood to please the Scarlet Mistress, the Unbound Poetry Society is using 'stories' to sacrifice to the bystanders, isn't it?" Burogo analyzed calmly.

"You guessed right, that's the truth. You can regard this world as a gigantic stage, and the onlookers are the only audience under the stage. What the Wubin Poetry Club has to do is to try to make the stage perform a wonderful performance. A beautiful story in exchange for applause from the audience."

While Lebius was explaining to Burlogo, he was still talking to himself in his heart.

"That's why the bystander chooses to cooperate with the Bureau of Order. In order to see the grand performance depicted by the Bureau of Order, he doesn't even mind being hostile to his brothers and sisters. Even if they have never united."

The existence of bystanders is a top secret within the Bureau of Order, and few people know and believe that, as a devil, he actually chose to stay here because of the empty promise of the Bureau of Order.

It's a pity that neither Levius nor Nethaniel knew what the Bureau of Order had promised them, and the only person who knew was the current director.

The current director...

Thinking of these, Lebius felt a headache. He tried hard to recall the appearance and name of the current director, and all the information related to him, but his mind went blank, followed by harsh beeps.

When Lebius was relieved from the sting, his eyes were a little dull, and Bologo waved his hand, "Boss?"

"Hold... sorry, I was distracted."

Lebius rubbed his head, he couldn't remember what he was thinking just now, let alone how he lost his mind.

"Where are we talking?"

"There is no purpose for the Poetry Society," Burrogo reminded.

"Is the purpose of the Wubin Poetry Club? This is about the 'story' they care about. In order to weave a satisfactory 'story', the Wubin Poetry Club is like a devil. They rarely take the initiative to attack. Interfering with something is more like a bard, photographer, and recorder, watching the occurrence and end of events.

For this reason, among the believers derived from the devil, the Unbound Poetry Society is relatively moderate, not as violent and crazy as the Scarlet Rot Sect. "

Lebius' voice turned severe, "But that doesn't mean they aren't threatening. Sometimes, they will do whatever it takes to get a perfect story."

"It's like spying on me, right? They think I have some kind of storytelling?" Burrog asked. It's really not a good thing to be watched by such a group of people.

"Perhaps, because of the crazy nature of the Unbound Poetry Society, we have very few records about it, and even its internal structure is not clear."

Lebius shook his head, "There are still many unsolved mysteries in this world, and the Bureau of Order does not have a very clear understanding of all forces."

Seeing Bologo's serious and serious appearance, Lebius further comforted him, "Concentrate on the promotion ceremony first, and I will inform Crow's Nest about this part to see if they have discovered anything recently."

"No... nothing, I just feel that life is wonderful."

Burrog was silent for a moment, then smiled.

"It wasn't long after I was on vacation, but I ended up looking for work again, which inevitably made me wonder if I was really a hard worker."

"Is the undead going to work hard? Then you will be busy in the future," Lebius said and reminded, "Take this head away and throw it away anywhere."

Bologo and Palmer left the office, but Lebius still had a serious expression on his face. He picked up the landline and dialed the number.

"Minister, in order to please the bystanders, the Wufu Poetry Club has already started, I want to know..."

"This matter has nothing to do with the bystanders."

Nethaniel's voice was beyond doubt.

Lebius paused for a moment, his eyes sparkled, and he asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, if you don't believe me, you can ask the bystanders yourself."

There was a grinding sound from the microphone, and soon another familiar and eerie voice sounded, and he said, "Yo, Lebius."

Lebius' expression froze.

"I admit that I really long for Burrog's sight, but I will not violate my rules, that is to say... this is only what the Unbound Poetry Club wants to do, and I will follow the rules to lower it for them." Enze, as for how you want to deal with them, it's up to you.

Whether it's killing them all, or putting them in a dark cell, or something more cruel...you're welcome!I have no objection, don't pay too much attention to my thoughts. "

If he didn't know in advance that the other party was an evil devil, Lebius would even think that he was talking to a friendly friend.

The devil seems to be like this, he doesn't care about his followers, just like the tyrant's attitude towards the Wandering Fork and the Gray Trader Chamber of Commerce.

The devil is not born of believers, but believers need the devil for support.

"Anything else, Lebius."

There was a smile in the words of the bystanders. He never concealed his love for Lebius. Among his many "sights", the bystanders always thought that Lebius was the best one.

Lebius hung up the phone silently, leaned back on the chair, raised his head, his eyebrows were twisted together, and there was an indelible worry in his heart.

"He's a devil... a vile and hateful devil..."

Like a mantra, Lebius kept whispering, strengthening his hatred of the devil in his heart.

……

"So... this matter really has nothing to do with you?"

In the movie theater, Nethaniel let go of the microphone, and the landline disappeared into the shadows.

This movie theater, and even the entire House of the Rising Sun, are the domain of onlookers, just as the tyrant stretches out the hesitant fork in his own domain, and these demons are truly omnipotent.

"real."

The bystanders turned their heads, and thousands of faces flashed across his face, and they all smiled strangely together.

"You know me, Nethaniel, I have never been too lazy to manage my followers, the reason why they are so devout is that we have the same ideas.

As for my protection for believers, you know the rules, this is beyond my control. "

Nethaniel reached out and grabbed a large handful of popcorn from the arms of the bystander, and stuffed it into his mouth unceremoniously. There are not many people like him who dare to snatch food from the devil's mouth.

The bystander said proudly, "Unlike my crazy brothers and sisters, my protection is still very attractive."

Devils grant two kinds of power to mortals. Human beings who donate part of their souls and are regarded as valuable by the devil will become debtors and receive the "gift" from the devil.

The debtor is approved by the devil and has value.

The other kind of power is "protection". Through the sublimator of the contract school, these contractors will establish a connection between mortals and devils, and gain the protection of the devil's power in the form of believing in the devil and donating their souls.

For example, the protection of the Scarlet Sect, bloodthirsty healing, relying on swallowing flesh and blood, can make the flesh and blood gain a strong self-healing ability, and even reach the level of immortality.

"Compared with protection, I care more about the so-called... the same idea?"

Nethaniel didn't know too much about the bystanders. This devil was too lazy, so that there were very few traces of him in the world. I am afraid that only the director could barely understand his whole picture.

It sounds so funny that humans and devils think the same way.

Nethaniel vaguely remembered a similar thing, and he asked tentatively, "Do you mean the thing that the Unbound Poetry Society has been chasing since ancient times? It's not just them chasing, that's what you want too. "

The bystanders nodded with a smile, and thousands of faces nodded with him.

This might clarify what the onlookers want, Nethaniel demanded, "What the hell is that?"

The onlookers were silent for a while, and he turned his head to look at the big screen. The chaotic images fluttered, extending from thousands of years ago to the present, from dark alleys to magnificent halls.

His voice was solemn and solemn, telling the only real name.

"That's... an endless poem."

(End of this chapter)