Endless Debt.

Chapter 506 Immortality
poetry.

Burogo has read some poems. In his opinion, this is a very romantic vocabulary, a literary carrier composed of highly condensed language and rhythm and rhythm. They contain strong emotions and explain all kinds of souls.

Suddenly, Bologo remembered the abnormality he encountered during the promotion ceremony. In the thorough storm that pierced the sky, he watched the story of the poet and the mountains as if he had personally experienced it.

So experience, poetry, has a more peculiar meaning for Burlogo.

He became curious, wondering why Belphegor asked this question.No matter how you think about it, the evil devil and romantic poetry don't go well together.

"Since many years ago, I have loved all artistic creations. Before movies, my favorite artistic creation was poetry."

Belphegor looked at the screen, which showed a picture of a desolate wilderness, a poet marching tenaciously in the cold wind like a knife.

"Still surprised?"

Belphegor asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"No surprise," Burlogo relaxed, watching the black-and-white video, "Even if you take out an electric guitar and sing me a verse, I don't think it's strange."

Belphegor laughed.

The poet in the picture came to a strange town. He spread his poems in the town and communicated with other poets in the town, got new poems and took them to another distant place.

"My brothers and sisters and I have different hobbies. For example, you have seen the tyrant Mammon. He is like a garbage collector. As long as there is something of value, he will not refuse it."

"Sounds like crows," Burlogo said, "they like to collect shiny things, whatever they are."

"Yes, that's it," Belphegor said, "Every devil has an irresistible preference, and this may be the beginning of our original sin."

Burrog took this information to himself, perhaps for later use.

Burlogo went on to say, "Your hobby is to pursue artistic creation? This sounds too inconsistent with the image of the devil..."

Before he finished speaking, Bologo immediately denied his own thoughts. Devils are like this, impermanent and weird. In their own opinion, there are reasonable explanations for whatever crazy actions they do.

It even said that even a reasonable explanation is not important, as long as they can feel happy.

"I know this is hard for people to accept. The weird devil actually doesn't desire a soul, but likes this kind of thing. Like a decadent youth out of touch with society, he collects these things that others cannot understand."

Belphegor was fiddling with his collection, and he was right that if Belphegor was just an ordinary person, he would be a loner freak who shut himself in at home and completely disconnected from society.

Burrog looked at Belphegor strangely.

The Bureau of Order really knows how to pick devils. It actually chose such a strange guy, but it is true. Only such strange devils will be bound by the blood contract of mortals.

Bologo was still very wary of Belphegor from the bottom of his heart. No matter how strange Belphegor's external behavior was, he was still a hateful devil.

"I like these things, and for these things, like my brothers and sisters, I have gradually developed a community of believers in me," Belfinger said.

"Unbound Poetry Club."

Burrog looked at the screen and called out the group's name.

On the screen, the poet came to the wilderness. There are many poets waiting for him on this endless grassland. The poets set up their tents and set up bonfires, like small towns rising from the ground.

The poets danced, played and sang around the bonfire, and the melodious melody was accompanied by the chanting of poems, hovering under the sky.

"You may not believe it, Mr. Lazarus. Although I am a devil, the blood contract I signed with the Unbound Poetry Club did not come from those despicable desires."

Belphegor stared straight at the movie, and Burlogo also focused on the movie. The two were immersed in the story like good friends meeting in the theater.

The poets met and danced in the fields, and with each passing day more poets came from afar to join them, until on the seventh day a visitor waded in.

The poets surrounded him and told him their stories. From dawn to sunset, after another seven days, the visitor finally heard everyone's stories.

It's time to leave.

The poets packed their luggage and demolished this small town built on flat land. They hugged and bid farewell to each other, and agreed to meet next year.

As each poet departs, he pauses for a moment in front of the visitor, who blesses the poets, and the poet strokes the visitor's robe, leaving bright colors on it.

This is the first touch of color in a black and white movie. More and more poets bid farewell to visitors and dye the visitor's robes into colorful colors. In this black and white world, he is like a gorgeous bird.

All the poets have left, and the splendid birds have started their next flight.

"I don't really like to call our connection with gods and believers. This is not equal. We are more like... a group of like-minded friends."

Belphegor said softly, "That's right, friends, they entrusted their souls to me, and I gave them strength. All this is not just for the devil's nature, but for our consistent and lofty ideals."

"Ideal? Does the devil have such a thing?"

Burrog grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth, mumbled.

Belphegor laughed and said, "Sounds unbelievable, right? But it's also true. There are always things that even the devil can't do."

"So it's not a movie, is it?" Burrog said, "It's the memory of those souls, and you make the memory into a movie."

The scene of a hundred years ago is played on the screen. Judging from the amount of viewing of Burlogo, the costumes, props, and acting skills of the actors in this movie can be said to be the most extreme he has ever seen. Compared with movies, they are more like It's a real documentary.

This is the documentary. With the power of the devil, those pictures are stripped from the soul, and they are cut into endless documentaries that record the times.

"Yeah, that's part of the deal."

Belphinger said as he picked up a cassette and pulled out the film in it. The pictures in the film grid were not static, but constantly changing, and even the movements of the man in it were changing rapidly.

This reminded Burlogo of the rejection of movies by some people when movies first appeared. They said that movies are a kind of magic that seals people's souls into the film.

Now the sorcery seems to have come true, and the man in the grid watched Bologo, showing a terrified expression, and screaming for help.

Burrog could hear him screaming, and every frame the man was wailing.

"I am a devil after all, no matter how much I love them, I still have to do my job."

Belphegor pushed the film back roughly, and casually threw the cassette into the darkness. In the corner illuminated by the light, Burrog could see the mountain of cassettes.

"I like to trade with people in order to fulfill their wishes, in exchange for their sight, so as to spy on their life, you can understand me as an audience, and they are my actors."

Belphegor picked up another cassette and pointed to Burrog's name on it.

"Scott Martin, you should have seen him."

Burrog remembered the name, and he recalled the silent sculpture in the club of the undead.

"That's right, it's the one from the Undead Club," Belphegor continued. "When I was young, Scott traded with me in exchange for funds to explore the unknown. I gave him abundant funds. As a price, I To witness his adventures with your own eyes."

Belphegor disappointed, "Unfortunately, our deal should be terminated at that time."

"Scott became a world-renowned adventurer, and I also won an amazing film. After that, Scott was not satisfied. He began to fear death and asked me for the power of eternal life."

Borogo whispered, "You gave him immortality, but in a different form."

"But that is indeed eternal life," Belphegor jokingly said, "From the perspective of alchemical material science, the current Scott is one of the hardest substances in the world, and neither time nor swords can leave him. any trace."

Belphegor put away his smile, he gently stroked the surface of the cassette, and stared at the screen.

"Actually, I promised everyone who traded with me that they would have eternal life in my hands, but they didn't believe me, they were just obsessed with living in front of them."

Burlogo roughly understood Belfinger's trading rules. If the tyrant is interested in everything of value, then Mammon Coin is the quantification of the value of the tyrant's contribution.

What Belphinger likes are interesting stories, other people's brilliant and beautiful life, and shocking artistic creation. The more touching Belphegor's life is, the more valuable it is in Belphinger's eyes, and the more he longs for the other party's love. Sight, witness the life of others.

Burrog asked, "The promise of eternal life? Is that one of your great ideals?"

"Of course, this is what I promised. Every poet who joins the Unbound Poetry Club and shares his life with me will be compiled into the endless poems and gain eternal life."

Belphegor clenched his fists slowly, his voice stern and full of anger.

"Unfortunately, the Unbound Poetry Society has been corrupted, and the endless poems have been cut off."

(End of this chapter)