The Ring: Sell Dung Beetles in Junction

Chapter 207 Coprophagy

Anonymous is bothered by those laymen who point and point, pretending to understand if they don’t know, and really think they understand.

But the person in front of him is different. Wuming is not sure if he understands music, but he must understand his metaphor.In this way, the credibility of what this person said will be greatly increased.

Nameless observed the man.

The man was not handsome - a big nose, one eye was cut and covered with a white cloud, a goatee on his chin, narrow and crooked eyes, and he looked a little awkward everywhere.

With the aesthetics of the boundary, it can be called extremely ugly.

But Wuming believed that he was not inferior in this point, and was not overwhelmed by the man's appearance, but approached him quite confidently, with a proud face.

The man sat cross-legged in the shadow of the hillside. In front of him was a bone plate, which looked like it was made with a raised skull.The remains of faded gold lie on a bone tray.

Behind the man, there was a huge pile of golden garbage that was as tall as a person, and it was unknown what had piled up here.

And judging from the other bone discs placed beside the man, this is not the most profane and defiled existence.

The appetizer is sashimi of large intestines with rotting fresh corpses, and the main course is bread like ominous horns, stained with a sauce like a soggy old disease.

After the man cleaned up the internal organs, he lit a bonfire and burned the body.The flesh and blood burst under the burning of the flames, and the corrupt breath dissipated under the purification of the flames.Seeing the flames, the man's expression rarely revealed relaxation and a touch of joy.

The flame at the foot of the golden tree is still a manifestation of taboo, the man looked at the flame with a kind of pleasure in his expression.

He didn't move until the body was completely burned.

When the dead bones were also turned into ashes and scattered with the bonfire, the man finally made a move—he pulled the ashes together with the ashes of the bonfire, and ate them with golden residue.

The man's face was serious and meticulous throughout the whole process, neither showing enjoyment nor disgust, but as if he was dealing with a math problem, frowning slightly, savoring carefully.Compared with taste, he is more like fighting, fighting against some invisible oppressive aura - with madness and persistence.

And as the bibimbap with ashes ended, the man finally moved the biggest plate in front of him.

The main course was a loaf of ominous horns in a pool of blood.

But judging by the man's hard chewing, it was not bread, but a real ominous horn.

For the people of gold, this is a food that is more taboo than anything else.

The man chewed the ominous horn, the hard horn pierced his mouth, mixed with the flesh and blood of the food, and swallowed it.

The man finally took a look at Wuming:
"It seems that you are not the people of gold."

"Good eyesight, how did you tell?" Wuming asked.

"If it was the people of gold, they would have fled a long time ago. They are afraid of me to death - they are not afraid of death, but they are afraid that I will defile them." The man said, "But you watched me eat quietly."

"I'm just nostalgic." Wuming said, "I'm also a little surprised."

The man stared at Wuming with his ugly one eye: "Oh? How should I say it?"

"It reminds me of my homesickness—there was an old woman who liked your way of eating very much." Wuming said, "It's surprising that in a place like the Yatan Plateau, there is actually such a way of eating like you. Do you like this stuff?"

"I don't like it." The man grinned, "but I hate so-called normal food even more. Those people don't like it, so I like it."

The man answered in an incoherent manner, as if his mind was not normal.

Wuming tasted this sentence like a man eating, and said slowly:

"Then you are really rebellious."

"Because the people of gold are like a pile of shit." The man grinned, gold residue still smeared on his jagged teeth.

"It can be seen that you really understand shit." Wuming said, "But I need to double-check my judgment on music and singing voice—you say I can't sing well?"

"I said what you sang is a piece of shit." The man corrected Wuming.

"I won't be convinced just by talking about it." Wuming said, "If you can sing, can you say something?"

The man hiccupped, got up drunk, and took a deep breath, as if he was brewing something.

Then there was a soaring howl, which seemed to be full of pain and anger. Along with the howl, countless cursed souls danced around the man, and then circled into the air with the howls that became more and more wild and with higher tones. The breath forms a whirlwind together.

Most of the ominous cursed souls flocked to the only spectator present—Wu Ming, surrounding him with a screaming chorus.

The man suddenly stopped talking, and the cursed souls seemed to cut off the source of power, and dissipated at the same time, and the surroundings suddenly became extremely quiet.

The man gave Wuming a self-explanatory look, as if the two had already decided the winner with this voice.

Wuming scratched his head: "I don't really understand, but the voice is indeed louder than mine."

"I was on the stage back then, but I faced the 360-degree abuse of the audience and at the same time scolded back without losing the wind. Naturally, my voice had to be louder." The man sat back in front of the dung heap, "but the most important thing is emotion. My voice is full of emotions. Your passion is not something you can compare to. Singing, you must have emotions, and you must have the skills to express your emotions."

Although Wuming didn't understand, but since the man spoke so eloquently, he still decided to believe him.

"You eat a lot of shit, listen to you." Wuming nodded.

Wuming no longer intends to discuss this issue with the man. After all, he listened to the man. The man did not deny his feelings and beliefs, but said that he did not show it because his skills were too poor.

Now that his belief has not been denied, Wuming no longer struggles with it. His singing level is not the focus of his attention.

"Then I won't bother you for now." Wuming was about to bid farewell to the man.

"Stop," the man said. "You should stay."

"Is something wrong?" Wuming asked.

"You're kind of interesting," the man said. "I think you should be blessed."

"I also think that I am a good person and deserve to be blessed." Wuming said, "But this thing is not up to you, it seems to be based on the meaning of two fingers—and my client's approval."

The man said, "The blessing I'm talking about is not that kind of blessing."

"What's that like?" Wuming asked.

"Just like that person just now." The man said.

"Just now?" Wuming was puzzled, "Is there anyone else here? I didn't meet them on the way here."

The man pointed to the bonfire with only ashes and embers left:
"that person."

Wuming was even more puzzled: "Huh?"

The man said, "Shoot the curse into you - into your entrails, your bowels, and use your body to grow the curse until the ominous horns start sprouting from your body... Ah, be blessed by the curse , what happiness."

The man expressed his excitement with a trembling voice, and pulled out a large sword from the dung pile.

The big sword seemed to be made of some giant monster's spine, with spikes on the left and right sides, sharp and thin, interlaced irregularly, like an asymmetrical serrated knife, very ominous at first glance.

Staggered spikes pulled golden filth from the dung heap and fell to the ground like pus from a long-term illness.

"Hey, sword in shit." Wuming raised his head slightly, and was forced back by the "ominous aura" on the big sword.

He sheathed his long sword and held his shield in both hands:
"Use this to deal with you."

Facing the god-skin nobleman, Wuming tried to ask for reconciliation. Facing this one in front of him, he had no intention of convincing him with words.

This man's thinking obviously cannot be persuaded by words.

Only by fighting.

Wuming had to admit that even before the fight started, this man was extremely oppressive - who would not be afraid of a guy covered in shit, that would be possessed by the god of war.

"Although I often freestyle in the cesspit, I'm going to meet my idol soon, so I really don't want to be too disrespectful." Wuming said, "You just lie down honestly."

Before the words were finished, Wuming had disappeared in place, his feet were showing sparks, and he had appeared behind the man, raised his shield, and slammed it down on the man's head.

The man did not react at such a speed, and was directly smashed to the ground.But Wuming didn't feel relaxed.

It feels hard.Wuming thought.

The man got up like nothing happened, swung his big sword, slashed like a big club, and slammed the nameless shield.

Huge forces acted on the nameless shield, and the cracks expanded with each heavy blow.

The man raised his sword again and slammed heavily, but this time Wuming didn't block again, but tilted the shield, inserting the edge of the shield into the gap between the spines of the great sword.

The man's big sword threw out sword energy - a golden excrement residue was thrown out from the sword body.

But Wuming blocked the sword body with a shield, and had predicted the trajectory of the "sword energy", he had already dodged ahead of time, raised his foot, and kicked him flying out with a footprint on the man's stomach.

Wuming withdrew his feet and rubbed on the lawn on the ground, while observing the man in the distance.

The man got up again.

"Indomitable, indomitable." Wuming exclaimed, "Where did such a stunned person come from—he was just like me back then."

Wuming didn't let the man get close this time, and controlled the distance to prevent the man from rushing to his side. At the same time, he used long-range attacks such as fireballs and thunder guns to continuously reduce the man's physical strength.

But the man became more frustrated and courageous, the parts and flesh of his body were constantly cut off, but his movement became more and more swift, and he began to gradually adapt to Wuming's attack rhythm, and continued to approach Wuming.

He even ran into the dung pile and rolled, like a porcupine rolling in the mud, and his resistance to flames and thunder guns had improved a lot.

Wuming clicked his tongue, stopped trying to attack, put on his shield, turned and ran.

The man chased after him, and the two quickly ran uphill, next to a battlefield relic.

Wuming didn't hold back anymore, and controlled the thunder and lightning to absorb the surrounding weapon wreckage to the shield, forming a "sword wreck shield" that was one person tall.

Then sparks spewed out from behind, and with the aura of smashing the lava earth dragon with an elbow, he raised his shield and smashed at the man.

Facing the meteor-like attack, the man howled again, and the roaring sound wave and a huge amount of cursed souls pushed to the front, continuously reducing the strength of the shield.

But in the face of Wuming's strength, these can only be slightly slowed down. The sword skeleton and the shield broke through the cursed soul and the sound wave, and blasted towards the man.

The man frantically raised his big sword, and slashed at the big shield without fear of death.

The shield overwhelmed the greatsword, pressing the spine back into the man's cheek, and then the entire face of the shield slammed onto the man.

The moment the shield hit the man, the man's body was flattened for a moment.

Then a human shell flew into the distance, flying flesh and blood.The man drew a gully on the ground, bounced several times, and rolled until he hit a rock before stopping.

The man finally stopped moving and passed out.

Wuming succeeded with one blow, but there was no trace of joy on his face.

On his face, a puddle of golden excrement splashed onto the face shield from bottom to top, spreading along the top.

Like raindrops meeting high-speed glass and spreading upward, a golden-brown crown spread out on the top of the nameless helmet.

The "Great Sword Skeleton Shield" collapsed, and the weapon fragments fell to the ground, together with the nameless original shield.

"Ah!" Wuming held his head and went crazy.

When forming the shield from the remains of the weapon, Wuming had already thought of the gaps in the large shield of sword remains, and deliberately stacked several layers to ensure that the filth on the man would not break through the shield.

But after all the calculations, Wuming forgot one thing.

His clean and complete shield had been pierced with a small hole by the godskin nobleman before.

When the shield squeezed the man's face with great impact, the tiny hole was under great pressure.The filth on the man's body also endured tremendous pressure, rushing toward the only pressure relief port, transforming into an extremely strong jet——shooting Wuming in the face.

The nameless shoulder armor extended a rearview mirror, and stretched in front of the nameless face, reflecting the golden excrement on the nameless helmet.

Wuming knelt down powerlessly, put his hands on the ground, and was extremely frustrated:
"It's over, I can't dress up to meet him..."

Frustration was quickly transformed into anger, and Wuming rushed to the man angrily, crushing the man's face with his feet.

The rearview mirror on the nameless shoulder armor conjured up a mouth:

"I don't understand, won't you get more filth like this?"

"There is a saying called the broken window effect." Wuming said, "It's like once the shoes are a little dirty, it doesn't matter if they are all dirty."

After Wuming finished explaining, he continued to crush the man viciously and beat him violently.

"He seems to be dead," continued Mouth.

"Is it dead?" Wuming asked.

"Not dead?" Mouth said, "I can't detect any vital signs."

"I hope so." Nameless sighed.

"What do you mean?"

Nameless stopped and took a few steps back.

The man's body quickly repaired under the golden light of blessing, as if time was flowing backwards, the fatal wound healed directly.

Before the self-defense tears were amazed, the man got up again vigorously. Without saying a word, he raised his sword and continued to chop Wuming, as if the resurrection just now was just an ordinary fall.

"Fadeer..." Wuming's expression became serious, and he no longer cared about getting dirty on his body. His elbow spewed fire, and he punched the man's head off.

Within a minute, the man got up again.

"This is troublesome." Nameless said.

"How about an attack such as burning or corroding?" the imitation teardrop suggested.

"It's useless." Wuming tried to reject this method without trying it, "I'm familiar with it, no matter how powerful the move is, it's useless. Will—this is the only variable."

"Look at this invincible blessing, why do you refuse it?" The man rushed up again, attacking Wuming frantically.

Wuming dodged the man's attack and kept backing away.

Like a teardrop, he said: "How do you break his will? Language? Or great pain?"

"The will of this kind of person...can't be disintegrated by those little cleverness." Wuming said, "The only thing that can defeat the will is the will. In the end, it will only be a matter of who has stronger willpower and who can persist longer."

Wuming suddenly laughed: "I didn't expect that I would be treated like the powerful enemies I faced back then. I am also a boss."

He dodged the man's attack, retreated all the way, picked up the shield, and blocked the man's big sword.

Then the long sword came out of its sheath and slashed from his waist all the way to his chest, smashing his heart into pieces, and then kicked him away.

"Although he is crazy, he is a powerful fighter." Wuming set up his sword and shield and lowered his body, "Then let's compare our will."

　In fact, it can be written twice as detailed, but after thinking about it, forget it. I am afraid that some readers will not be able to bear the [-]-word shit.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)