Endless vast other world

Chapter 81

No one responded.

A lot of anxiety flashed in Siegel's heart.

"Boom, boom, boom..."

He slammed on the door hard and frantically.

After a long time passed, I heard a weak voice coming from the room.

"Who is it?"

In the house, there was a sound of light footsteps.

The reason why the footsteps were said to be light and light was because the sound was like a person recovering from a serious illness crawling on the ground.

"Squeak" sounded.

The door was slowly pushed open from the inside.

Bismin poked his head out from inside.

Siegel was taken aback.

Is this still him?
At this time, Bisming was like the kind of scholar who lived in seclusion and did some academic research for many years.

He has all the hallmarks of such a man.

Thin, stooped, with a broad forehead and long, gray hair.

His pale cheeks were sunken and he was clean-shaven.

He had, moreover, an air of bewilderment, a timid shrinking more than the usual shyness of a recluse.

And every look of his dark-rimmed, disturbed eyes, and every movement of his bony hands betrayed a constant anxiety.

Nine times out of ten, his overwork has seriously affected his health.

Siegel couldn't help wondering what it was that made him look like he was about to collapse.

but.In some respects Bismin—perhaps his broad arched shoulders and his angular facial features—revealed the once powerful impression.

It seems that his vitality has not been completely exhausted.

"It's Siegel."

Bisming forced a smile on his face.

Bismin welcomed Siegel into the house.

"I'm so glad you're here," Bismin said.

He sat by the window, his face pale.

He held two long candles between his elbows.The pale yellow-brown candlelight shone on his nose and slightly receding chin.

Siegel walked into Bismin's house.

There was no life in Bisming's room.

At this time, Bismin was like a medieval ascetic.

He likes yellowed manuscripts better than money, and oddly shaped stone carvings better than power.

Bismin made room for a settee for Siegel.

Siegel sat on the armchair and glanced at Bismin's desk.

Siegel was surprised to find that Bismin seemed to be working on some mathematical formulas.

Moreover, many strange geometric figures have been drawn on many thin yellow papers.

"What have you been up to lately?"

Siegel looked at Bismin's mathematical diagrams and the sixty or seventy strange books on the shelf.

Bismin's ebony bookshelf is filled with all kinds of strange books.

On the chairs, on the tables, and on the desks, were scattered pamphlets of wizard and witch spells, and dark witchcraft, and all those queer things that were not accepted by the common man.

"Is there something wrong with your body?" Siegel asked with concern.

Siegel was very worried.

He suspects that what is really wrong with Bismin is not his body, but his spirit.

Bismin smiled charmingly.

He hands Siegel a pipe.There are strange patterns carved on the cigarette tray.

"I have just discovered," said Bismin, "that the ancient magicians and wizards were right two-thirds of the time. Our contemporary scholars are nine out of ten wrong."

(End of this chapter)