Endless Debt.

Chapter 404 After the Mountains
What happened in this promotion ceremony was beyond Burrog's control, but Burrog remained calm. He knew very well that panic would only speed up his defeat.

Burrog tried his best to control his emotions and observed all this from an absolutely rational perspective. He didn't know what he was experiencing at the moment, so he could only analyze it with his shallow knowledge.

At this moment, Bologo's soul was frozen into an ice sculpture, standing on the ground, while his spirit was leaping. Pulled by the blazing storm, he was drawn into the whistling wind almost in the blink of an eye, as if fallen leaves.

As he got closer, Bologo forced his eyes open to observe the core of the storm. It was an absolutely blazing light. After looking directly at it for a short time, Bologo actually felt the pain of his pupils being burned, and he looked away weakly. , he saw figures flying around with it.

There are thousands of ghosts, ghosts similar to Borrog, these countless ghosts surround the outer edge of the storm, forming part of this huge destruction.

It was difficult for Bologo to understand the picture in front of him, which was completely beyond his imagination. It was even difficult for Bologo to distinguish whether it was a real thing or a symbol of some kind of power, just like his own body, mind, and spirit.

He became a part of the storm, being pulled and swirled, while the blazing storm continued to advance on the ice field, engulfing the towering ice sculptures. Most of the ice sculptures were annihilated into dust the moment they approached the storm, and merged into the In the midst of the storm.

Slowly advancing, Bologo's ice sculptures and the realization of the soul will also be swallowed by the storm. Bologo became nervous. He didn't know what would happen once he was swallowed by the storm... But for Bologo, It's definitely not a good thing, his soul is incomplete, and there can be no more mistakes.

Like a drowning man, Bologo waved his hands indiscriminately, trying to grab something within his reach, but he could only catch the rising snow dust, and then ghosts passed him by, with cheers. Yu Yin, and then Bologo collided head-on with another ghost.

Bologo did not collide with this ghost, but intertwined and overlapped with it. In an instant, Bologo saw thousands of broken pictures, which were like a violent storm, drenching on Bologo's memory.

When a child is born, he cries incessantly, clumsily learns to speak, and walks until he follows an adult like a deer...

Burrog is experiencing other people's life in a wonderful way, watching this stranger grow up little by little.

The Stranger lived in a time farther back than Burlogo's, when kings and lords ruled the land, when there were no railroads or newspapers, traffic was poor, and people were ignorant.

Unlike those numb adults, the stranger longed for the outside world from a very young age. He often sat on the grass, looking at the mountains in the distance, wondering what lay behind those mountains.

Whenever he mentioned this to his father, his father just replied perfunctorily, "There are still mountains after mountains."

"What about after that? After those mountains? There must be something after that, right?"

The child looked at his father expectantly. The father was silent. This tired man had never traveled so far in his life. The tall mountains were an insurmountable wall for the people in the village.

The father rubbed the child's head, "Don't think about that, the things behind the mountains are meaningless, what you should do is to learn my craft."

His father was a blacksmith, and as his son, he should also be a blacksmith in the future.

The young child didn't understand what it meant, he just smiled, but what he didn't know was that as he grew older, his curiosity about the mountains grew day by day, and the restraint from his father became more and more irritating. People suffocate.

"You should forget what is behind the mountains, but learn from me honestly and become a blacksmith. Only in this way can you support yourself!"

Looking at him covered in mud and weeds, his father knew what he had done at a glance.

Over the mountains.

He has been trying to climb the mountains, but every time he has failed.

Facing his father's reprimand, he would refute a few words at first, but slowly he fell silent.

He realizes that the mountains are too big, no matter how hard he tries, he can't see the end, maybe he should follow his father's advice, become a blacksmith, and spend a peaceful life in this remote village.

The stranger compromised, and the ordinary life continued without any surprises. He grew from a child to a young man, took over his father's hammer, and became the best blacksmith in the village.

He felt that this should be his whole life. In the hot shop, he kept hammering and hammering the steel until his own child succeeded him. But one day, a foreigner came and broke everything.

Few foreigners come to this remote village, and there is only a certain period of time each year when there will be caravans passing by, or taxes from the lord.

On this day, the villagers gathered around the tavern, watching the guy in the weird clothes. The stranger looked like a bohemian, drinking heavily and telling strange stories.

travelling poet.

This is what the villagers call the stranger. The moment he saw the poet, he was deeply attracted. He didn’t know what this emotion was, but in this decayed and ancient village, the life of the poet was so vivid. Fresh.

The poet is not a young man anymore, his face is full of wind and frost, and his hair is mixed with gray, but when he laughs and tells the story of that distant land, he is so young, far surpassing everyone.

The stranger chatted with the poet in the tavern until late at night. This was the first time he chatted with others for such a long time. He took out his savings and invited the poet to drink one glass after another. The poet said that he would not stay here for long. Will leave in a few days.

For this reason, the stranger has not worked for the past few days, but has closed the blacksmith's shop, and has drunkenly dreamed with the poet, and they talked a lot, extending beyond the mountains.

The stranger asked, "Do you know what lies beyond the mountains?"

The poet replied drunkenly, "After the mountains? Still the mountains."

The stranger was a little disappointed, which was the same as his father's answer, but he still asked persistently, "What about after the mountains?"

This time the poet fell silent, put down his wine glass, and replied seriously, "That is an incomparably vast world."

"There are endless wildernesses, huge rivers flowing through the kingdoms, mountains with snowy peaks that form high walls, and plateaus where the wind is raging and never stops."

The poet's voice suddenly softened, and with a wicked smile, he described such a world for strangers.

"That is a colorful world, far more interesting than this village, there are many things you have never experienced, never known, never owned..."

The poet hugged the stranger, his mouth full of alcohol and pride.

"That's life, that's life, my friend!"

"But there is a price, isn't it?" The stranger is no longer a child, "You are wandering, except for poetry, your journey is no different from wandering, you have nothing, even the money for drinking, I paid for it of."

The poet shook his head, "No, I have everything. When I step into the vast beauty, the vast beauty belongs to me. When I sleep in the grass, this endless land is my bed... I see It can be seen, my friend, that there is longing hidden in your eyes, and you also yearn for that kind of world, right?"

The stranger did not speak.

"Why don't you follow your own heart? Is it because you can't give up all this comfort?"

"I am bound here, no! I am willing to stay here."

The stranger's father died shortly after he took the hammer, and his mother left when he was a child. In this remote village, there is no one worthy of the stranger's love, and there is nothing he cares about Yes, but like a force, the stranger is trapped here, unable to leave.

The poet smiled slightly, he didn’t say anything anymore, the stranger looked at him, obviously drank so much wine, but at this moment the poet’s eyes didn’t have the slightest dullness, only wisdom and sobriety, it seemed that what was drunk was only his body , not his soul.

He picked up the book pinned to his waist. The cover of the book was cowhide full of cracks. There were many notes mixed between the thick pages, and every inch was filled with scrawled handwriting.

Stranger Wen, "What is this?"

"I am a poet," said the poet, "and this is my poem."

Turning over the page, the poet picked up the pen and wrote the words. While writing, he looked at strangers from time to time.

"what are you writing?"

"The story I experienced... In the ancient and corrupt land, I met a dusty free heart. Unfortunately, I came too late, and he has already integrated with this rotten everything."

"So what if you write all this?" The stranger knew the poet was alluding to him. "You will die, and so will your poems, to the dust of obsolete, no one will know."

"No, it won't," the poet's eyes lit up, denying the stranger's words, "this will not end."

"The Psalms are endless... the poems are endless!"

"It's just crazy talk!"

The stranger was enraged, and he didn't know why he was angry. Was the poet too perfect?

Yes, the poet lived the life he longed for. He sent an invitation to himself, but he didn't have the courage to accept the change. In order to maintain his poor dignity, he denied everything about the poet.

He thought that the poet is so smart, he must have been seen through by the poet, so how ridiculous is he in the eyes of the poet?

The stranger locked himself in the room for several days. He tried not to think about the poet, nor what happened after the mountains. He only hoped that the poet would leave quickly and return the peaceful life to him.

And then...the peaceful life came back.

The poet is dead.

(End of this chapter)