The Ring: Sell Dung Beetles in Junction

Chapter 449 Believe in the wisdom of our ancestors
Wuming sent the little horned man away and thought about how to run to the Tower Town of Barrett reasonably.

"Lord Yongren, what are you doing?" After the people of the horns finished discussing, they found Wuming was in deep thought and came over to ask.

"Nothing. Have you made a plan? How are you going to get there? Have you found a mount?" Wuming asked.

"Mounts are not a problem. We can tame any wild beast on this land." The Horned Man said, "Bears may be a little more troublesome, but cows, sheep, and pigs are all fine."

Wuming gritted his teeth, something was wrong.

These creatures would stay away from him, and he couldn't ride them. But would it be a revelation if he just said he couldn't ride small animals?

Wuming said pompously, "I want to ride something more majestic!"

"What do you want to ride?" The Horned Man said respectfully, "We will hunt it for you right away."

Wuming was in a dilemma for a moment. His ability of taming animals was so poor that he would be easily exposed if he mentioned an animal.

Wuming was quick-witted and had a flash of inspiration:
"No, I'll take care of it myself. I'll go ride the bird."

"A divine bird?" The horned man stood in awe, "You are actually a divine bird warrior."

"It's not a divine bird, it's a tomb-guarding bird." Wuming said and left the cave.

In this plain of graves, many gravestones have grave-guarding birds perched on top of them. These grave-guarding birds are not living creatures, but golems.

This golem won't be afraid of me anymore, right?
Wuming was full of confidence. He came out of the cave and quickly found a grave-guarding bird. He rubbed his hands and rushed over.

He put his arms around the grave-guarding bird's neck and rode on its back.

Stimulated by this, the grave-guarding bird screamed and flew away.

The wings made of stone were very strong, and Wuming was now quite light, and after flapping a few times, the grave-guarding bird actually flew up.

"Okay, okay! Bird, just fly like this!" Wuming shouted happily, and his voice passed through the air and reached the cave.

The horned people looked at Wuming in awe:

"I saw the shadow of our ancestors in him."

"Which ancestor?"

"The Divine Bird Warrior, this is how you tame the Divine Bird."

"As expected of a brave man, you remind me of the bird warrior Onis, who became a guardian god."

The horned men looked at Wuming with admiration and respect, longing for the day when they themselves would become heroes.

Someone suddenly said:

"But Lord Onis, you became a guardian god after you tamed the divine bird and fell while flying with the help of the divine bird."

As soon as these words were spoken, the people in the corners suddenly fell silent, staring at Wuming Si, sweat breaking out on their faces.

In the sky, the grave-guarding bird screamed, rolled wildly in the air, and fell into the distance.

The people in the corners were silent for a moment, and someone said:

"Do we...have a new patronus now?"

Wuming never expected that there was actually a soul inside this tomb-guarding bird golem. Soon after getting close, the soul jumped up in joy, and the tomb-guarding bird's body began to struggle with the greatest force.

Naturally, it is impossible to stay in the air.

The flapping of wings made Wuming's fall sometimes faster and sometimes slower, with no regularity in the air.

Wuming had no choice but to wait for the right moment and insert his dragon claw hands into the wings of the grave-guarding birds one by one, forcing them to spread their wings.

As expected, it worked. Their descent speed immediately slowed down a lot, and they slid while falling towards the ground at an accelerated speed.

Wuming looked at the ground gradually approaching, and feeling the speed of his fall, he felt that it was no big problem and he would not get hurt.

The ground disappeared.

Instead, there is a cliff.

The cliff, which was originally not far from the cave, now appeared at his feet, and below the cliff was an endless sea of ​​red flowers.

A gust of wind blew by the cliff, and immediately the wings of the golem bird, which was only held by Wuming, were tilted, and its body twisted, and it fell directly onto the protruding rocks on the cliff.

"Gah, ah, oh, rua..."

Wuming screamed every time he hit the cliff, and kept hitting the cliff. The wings and body of the grave bird were gradually breaking apart, and the speed of its fall was getting faster and faster.

With a bang, Wuming fell to the ground, dust flew, and flowers scattered.

Wuming fell into a cage. The structure of the cage gave him a little cushion in the end, and he finally survived unscathed.

Wuming climbed up from the cage that had collapsed into the soil, and covered his back in pain: "My back..."

Stumbling, Wuming saw a cave next to him.

In the cave, a faint human voice could be heard.

Wuming felt a palpitation in his heart, and an epiphany came to him - there was something healing in the cave.

Wuming pounded his back, spat out two mouthfuls of blood, and walked in, stroking the rock wall:
"Is anyone there? I'm so pitiful and in urgent need of scorpion soup. Is there any kindhearted person…"

After crying for a few words, Wuming went deeper into the cave and became silent.

"I thought there was soup." Wuming entered the cave and looked around.

There were large pots all over the ground, and blood and pieces of flesh everywhere.

"It turns out to be just a soul, that's ok." Wuming picked up a piece of meat from the ground, stuffed it into his mouth, and ate it with relish. The wounds on his body were also healing rapidly.

"It stinks here..." Wuming chewed.

He didn't feel much. The stench was more like a collapse spreading from the body to the soul than an odor.

Wuming had a familiar feeling towards this aura.

"Where have I smelled it before..." Wuming pondered, "A volcano... There are indeed corpses everywhere over there, but it doesn't look like..."

Wuming fell into deep thought and couldn't help but walk forward, carefully feeling the breath, hoping to awaken his memory.

The moment before he stepped on the ground, the inconspicuous large pot next to him suddenly exploded.

A bloody thing let out a sharp roar, and the roar set off a wave of sound, piercing into people's hearts with madness and pain.

Wuming raised his shield, jumped back lightly, and observed the mass of flesh and blood.

Wuming had also seen the contents of the large pot, but this one was a little different, as it still retained some human form.

It looked like a woman with a pretty face, her eyes covered by a cloth, and a diamond-shaped symbol of unknown meaning carved on her head. The woman was naked - to be precise, only flesh, no skin. Pink muscle fibers were exposed to the air, and except for her limbs and face, her whole body was festering and ulcerated, connected to other pieces of flesh, as if she had grown a huge tumor.

Wuming noticed that the woman had no horns on her head.

The piece of flesh extended all the way to the back and bulged high. The slender woman looked like a dung beetle with amber several times its size dropped on her body and solidified. Her legs were trembling and she could barely support herself.

Wuming could tell at a glance that the pieces of flesh on the woman's back and body were not diseased from her own body. Instead, they were attached to the souls of other people, and they kept wriggling.

The moment he saw the monster and heard the roar, Wuming remembered the source of this aura.

In Stonewell City, Greg's limb-surgery room.

And there are many similar things in my hometown.

The bodies are forcibly glued together, and the souls are mixed and bitten against each other, producing a breath of pain and despair.

That roar was exactly the same as that of the noble who had undergone limb-replacement in the limb-replacement room.

Many faces emerged from the huge lump on the woman's body. Each face had an expression of pain and roared along with the woman.

Wuming thought of the witches he had known in the past.

"They are probably the same..." Wuming looked at the suffering women and sighed, "It's also very hard."

The woman who had turned into a tumorous monster seemed to have already gone mad and lost her mind. After roaring, she pounced towards Wuming.

Wuming opened his arms, without dodging or evading, and hugged the woman. The moment the contact came into contact, juice from the tumor splattered everywhere, and the face on the tumor twisted and began to struggle.

But soon those faces returned to calm - a deathly calm.

The ball of flesh fell down, and all the faces, including those of the women, returned to calm, the calmness brought by death.

All the souls were forcibly sucked out by Wuming and put into that spiral-like chest.

Wuming smacked his lips, "At least twenty souls."

After getting rid of this tumor, Wuming looked deeper into the cave.

The cave was a prison. The narrow passage was filled with iron bars, bones, and cages. There were many large pots like this sitting around, some hanging in the air. In some low-lying areas, bones were thrown away at random, blood and water mixed to form streams under the feet, and maggots crawled in the mud.

The further down they went, the colder it became. Wuming saw some people who were still in prison picking up the frozen maggots on the ground and eating them with relish.

Occasionally you can see some blackened people walking around, most of the people are hiding in the corners, but there are also people walking around normally, seemingly working.

Wuming thought of his current image, puffed out his chest, highlighting the huge curved horns on his head, and walked up to the little black man who was working.

"What's going on here?"

The Horned Man did not answer Wuming's question. Instead, he rushed over excitedly when he saw him coming:
"Sir, please let me go! I don't want to be here anymore! I'm still young and not old enough to be tortured."

"Calm down and speak slowly." Wuming cast a calming spell on the horned man. "What's going on here? Who is doing the limb grafting?"

"Limb transfer?" The Horned Man didn't understand what Wuming was talking about. "Oh, you mean the sinner's reincarnation ritual."

The Horned Man said: "This was originally a prison. Our duty is to punish and torture the criminals and to encourage them to do good. But... Alas, more and more people have become Lamenters. I'm so scared. I don't want to become like that. I'm not mature enough."

"The one who sighs, are those tumors?" Wuming asked.

"Tumor? Those are sinners." The Horned Man said, "I mean the Horned Man. Alas... you will know if you go to the lower level. Alas, I don't want to become a sigher... that is not happiness at all."

"Sinner..." Wuming pondered, "So that form is a form of punishment?"

"Punishment? No, no, no, it's a ritual to make them do good." The Horned Man said, "It's for their own good."

"Is the carrier of the dismembered body also a sinner?" Wuming asked, "I see that all the contents are attached to women, and the souls are obviously entangled around those women. The features of those women are quite consistent, all with white hair. It's new, what kind of ritual would limit gender as the core of the ritual?"

"Those are witches," said the Horned Man. "They have strong vitality and are suitable to be the core of the combination. Witches are born to do this."

"Born? It seems to me that they are in a lot of pain?" Wuming said.

"That is their birth mission," said the Horned Man. "The vigorous vitality comes from the furnace. The furnace needs to be channeled before it can communicate with God. Only after being tempered can these sinners become good people."

Wuming frowned as he listened, feeling that something was wrong.

"Aren't these so-called witches sinners?" Wuming asked.

“They are the glue,” the Horned Man said, “but now, at least in my opinion, they are also sinners.”

"Now they are criminals?" Wuming was a little surprised by the wording used by the horn people. "What crime did they commit?"

Speaking of this, the horn man suddenly became very angry:

"Because of Marika! How dare that bitch betray us! And she sent Messermo and his minions to burn us with fire!"

"Wait, wait." Wuming interrupted the indignation of the Horned Man and suddenly discovered a big problem, "What does this have to do with Marika?"

"Malika is the witch." The horned man replied.

The answer was confident and reasonable.

The answer made Wuming gasp, and the cold air in the prison even stung Wuming's chest.

"You Horned People...are you so brave? Don't you know who she is?" Wuming's eyes widened.

"We are the Horned Man?" The Horned Man was puzzled and looked at the several tangled horns on Wuming's head. "Aren't you a Horned Man?"

"I... cough, I'm a divine beast warrior, don't lump me in with you." Wuming thought of an excuse and quickly confirmed it, "You used Marika's people to do this? Don't you know she's a god?"

"God?" The Horned Man got even angrier when he said this. "Without us, how could she become a god? That evil woman betrayed us, used our tower to become a god, blocked the tower, and even massacred us!" Wuming didn't know how to react, and scratched his head:

"But...you...is it because she betrayed you that you treat the witch like this?"

"No, it has been like this since ancient times." The Horned Man replied.

Wuming held his forehead with his hand: "Then isn't this just pure revenge by Marika?"

"What right does she have to take revenge?" The Horned Man protested, "This is our custom since ancient times, and countless sinners have become good because of it."

"How did this custom of yours come about?" Wuming didn't understand.

The Horned Man shook his head: "I don't know, but we have been doing this since ancient times. Our ancestors must have their reasons. Can we be smarter than our ancestors? There must be a reason for doing this."

The Horned Man said, "We followed the custom and built a great tower. Doesn't this prove that our ancestors were right?"

Wuming stared at the horn man, his brows furrowed from the beginning and never relaxed.

Even through a layer of bandages, his expression looked very serious.

==========
As Patch and his group walked towards Ensis City, Roger felt that the atmosphere on the road was a little subtle.

Most people were silent. Dann was a silent ascetic who didn't even fart during the journey. Moore wore the thickest and fattest armor, but he was timid and didn't dare to speak in the crowd. He could only mutter to the little insect in his hand.

Even worse than the silence was the tense atmosphere that permeated the team.

Leida looked at everyone with a cold gaze, and stared at Ampah with a covetous eye, bearing in mind the past grudges and preventing the Blood Dynasty from carrying out any bloody conspiracy.

And it's not Reda who provides the most tension, it's Patch who provides the most.

Since coming here, Patch's sharp words have increased several times, especially when he was against Colin, trash talking one after another.

And because these ten people came from five different factions, the caravan leader Patch and Michaela's leader Leida seemed to dislike each other. Anyway, Patch would nag Leida from time to time, and Roger didn't know why Patch was so angry.

We weren't even halfway through the journey, but it felt like a big fight was about to break out within the team.

One of these two people crawled at the front of the team, and the other walked at the back of the team. Once they had some communication, they would always start a quarrel.

Roger walked to the front, parallel to Patch, and sighed meaningfully:

“It’s not easy to lead a team.”

Patch clicked his tongue and said, "I didn't intend to come at first, so I let Michaela's people come. Now that I want to come, it's not easy to deny the previous proposal."

Roger said, "You don't get along well with Mr. Colin. Why is that? Do you know Mr. Colin?"

"I don't know him, and I'm not interested in knowing him," Patch said. "Do you know him?"

"We used to work together in the Round Table Hall," Roger said. "Mr. Colin is a devout clergyman."

"That's why I hate him," Patch said. "That guy exudes a smell that I hate, and it's definitely not because there can only be one bald guy in the team."

Roger looked back at Colin, whose hair was bound in cloth, and who was wearing a rough linen clerical robe, with a heavy wheel-shackle around his neck.

"He just has short hair and it's wrapped in cloth, he's not bald," said Roger.

"Humph, I'm not interested in the priesthood anyway." Patch said, "Those people in Michaela's group have a similar stench, except for that fat guy."

Roger smiled and handed Patch the skewers he had grilled himself:

"But you are traveling with your wife and children after all. If the atmosphere is so tense, it will not be good for the process and it will not be good for the children either. Children are most easily affected by the atmosphere."

Patch hummed twice and said nothing.

Roger walked to the end of the line again and talked to Colin: "Mr. Colin, long time no see, why did you leave the round table too?"

"Hmph, Gideon is no longer worthy of being the leader of the Round Table. I don't want to stay at the Round Table and serve him and others anymore." Colin was quite angry in his words.

"What happened to Sir Baizhi?" Roger was surprised. He didn't often stay at the round table, but he remembered that Sir Baizhi was a very smart person. As a scholar and magician, Roger still respected Sir Baizhi very much.

Thinking of Colin's beliefs, Roger asked tentatively:
"Did he betray the Golden Tree as well?"

As soon as Roger finished speaking, he saw several veins popping out on Colin's forehead, which seemed to have aroused his anger.

It seems that my guess was right, Roger thought. I don’t know what kind of outrageous thing Sir Baizhi had done to make Colin hate him so much.

"That guy watches Michaela's live broadcast every day!" Colin's fists hardened.

Even though he knew Colin couldn't see it, Roger still had an awkward smile on his face.

"Ah, this kind of thing..."

This matter seemed particularly worthy of indignation, and Colin opened his mouth and began to talk incessantly:
"The Golden Rule that Michaela preached is totally against the right path! He is simply a heretic! During the live broadcast, he secretly modified part of the Golden Rule!"

Colin said confidently: "I just want to ask him, I want to ask him, has Michaela ever learned the Golden Rule?"

Roger's face was covered with sweat:
"From what I know, Master Michaela's parents are the founders of the current Golden Rule. He learned the Golden Rule from Marica and Radagon."

"But he abandoned the fundamentalism of the Golden Rule!" Colin became more and more angry. "He obviously has such a unique condition, but he can't recognize the benefits of the Golden Rule! Instead, he spreads fallacies and heresies."

"So you left the Round Table just to find Michaela and ask him if he has learned the Golden Rule?" Roger asked, "Then why did you come to the Shadow Land again?"

"I left the Round Table simply because I felt that Gideon was not worthy of my service. Not only did that guy read Michaela's heresy every day, but do you know what he also said?" Colin said.

"what?"

"He actually said that Lord Two-Fingers has been damaged." Colin was heartbroken. "He has been corrupted by Michaela, so I will leave the Round Table and find someone worthy of my following."

"Michaela?" Roger was surprised.

"How is that possible? I'm going to find the Master of the Golden Mask." Colin said, "Have you heard of the Master of the Golden Mask?"

Roger recalled briefly: "Oh, it's that——"

"The Master of the Golden Mask is a true genius and a master of the Golden Rule!" Colin interrupted Roger with an excited look on his face, "You know Marica's motto, right?"

"Yes," Roger said, "When I took Miss Feiya away from the Round Table, we hid in a tour group. There was a one-eyed tour guide who was promoting the Marica motto. She took us to visit many Marica churches."

Colin said, "Besides, you and I are both faded ones, so we should understand this better - after we die, the blessing will come again and awaken us again. Resurrection is the real miracle of the Golden Tree."

"It's a pity that I can't see the guidance now." Roger felt a little regretful. He also missed the feeling of being free from confusion when the blessing came to him.

Roger glanced at Fia and said, "But now I have found my own guidance."

Colin said, "The dead will be guided again, and the Master of the Golden Mask was not dead at that time. When he was a faded person and was still outside the border, he had accurately predicted that the blessing of guidance was coming, so he drank the poisoned wine in one gulp."

Colin's words were full of longing and praise:
"He must be a more pious master who understands the Golden Rule better than I do."

"Then how did you find Master Michaela?" Roger asked, "Didn't you find the golden mask?"

Colin's enthusiasm seemed to be dampened, and he felt a little disappointed: "No, I found it. But, but..."

Colin became excited again: "The Master of the Golden Mask is also watching Michaela's live broadcast!"

Colin coughed excitedly, and Roger patted him on the back:
"Don't get excited. Maybe people will look at it critically."

"Yes, the master must be reading it critically." Colin said, "It must be to refute Michaela's wrong remarks!"

Colin whispered, "But... I saw hesitation in the movement of the master's fingertips. This is terrible, Michaela. He must be using charm to control others! This kind of perverse theory must be turned off, it must be turned off!"

Colin said: "In order to remove Michaela's enchantment, I left the Master of the Golden Mask, went to Michaela's house, and faced her directly."

"They are so young." Ampah, who was also standing at the end of the line and heard the conversation, stroked his beard and felt deeply moved.

"Then how did you get here?" Roger hesitated, "You... were also bewitched?"

Colin glared at Roger, and even through the blindfold he could see his angry eyes. "My faith will not waver! Michaela promised me that he would turn off the live broadcast as long as I helped him, as a priest of the Golden Tree, to negotiate with the Golden Tree forces in the Shadow Land and get the caravan owner back."

"Right." Roger said, "Since we are working towards this goal, we are still companions and we still have to get along well with each other so that we can work together to achieve our goal."

After persuading Colin, Roger and Leida made eye contact.

Leida said, "Don't worry, the mission given to me by Lady Michaela comes first."

Roger said no more, returned to the center of the team, sighed, and felt deeply exhausted.

"Thank you for your hard work." Fia wiped the sweat off Roger's face.

"Alas, this team has to disband without me." Roger said tiredly.

Fia gently hugged Roger from behind, her chest pressing against the back of Roger's neck, and the warmth of her body under the gauze was transmitted to Roger.

Feiya whispered, "Are you feeling better? Are you still tired?"

Roger closed his eyes and felt the warmth behind him. His face flushed slightly and he remained silent for a moment before saying:

"Mentally, I'm not that tired anymore, but physically..."

"I'm sorry, I sprained my ankle." Fia lay on Roger's back, "I can only heal others, I can't heal myself."

"It's okay." Roger took out the staff, put it behind his back, placed it under Fia's butt, grabbed the staff with both hands, and carried Fia on his back.

The subtle scent of cemetery lily of the valley on Fia's body drifted in the air, constantly boosting the team's spirits.

Ampah at the end of the team sniffed the fragrance and said, "It's refreshing. Leida, you should relax more. You are much more tired than Brother Roger."

Reda, who was at the end of the team with Ampah, had bloodshot eyes in her helmet. She ignored Ampah and continued to stare at everything around her, the surrounding environment, and her teammates with her eyes flashing with sharp golden light.

"Someone is approaching," Leida said. "There are about a dozen of them, on horses, in armor."

Hearing this, Lance Shanks kicked his feet, spread the wings behind him, rose more than ten meters, and looked around.

A moment later, Lance Shanks landed:
"In the rear, half a team of Messermo soldiers and a black knight, all injured, will meet us."

Patch said, "Then change lanes and avoid it."

With that said, Patch carried Greg on his back and moved sideways away from the main road.

Roger said: "Judging from the trajectory, the other party should also be from Ensis City. Perhaps we can go together?"

"Traveling together? That's fine." Patch smiled, "Then Leida, go ask them."

"You don't have to command me." Leida said, but did not refuse. She was dressed and ready to negotiate with the Messermo soldiers.

"Let's hide," Patch said.

"Why are you hiding?" Roger was stunned.

"You don't have to hide." Patch carried Greg on his back and moved sideways, looking for a place to hide.

Roger was skeptical, but he still hid himself. Leuleda went forward alone.

The soldiers approached, and just as Lance Shanks had said, many of them were wounded, and their armor was covered in blood, which mixed with the black ash that was originally in the armor, like black molten mud.

Although all the soldiers were injured, they still achieved some results.

The soldiers held up their spears, piercing the enemy's corpses with their spear tips.

There were blood monsters, horned men, and some of the spears were stacked up in layers, so it was almost impossible to tell how many people were pierced. All the people pierced were burned into black charcoal by the flames, and were hardened into a single piece.

From a distance, they seemed to be talking happily. After a while, Leida gestured to Patch and the others to come out.

"Remember, don't let your guard down." Patch warned the others and then walked out.

As Patch and his group approached, the Messermo soldiers were a little confused at first. They observed for a moment in hesitation, and finally took out their axes, spears, and hammers.

"Huh? Why?" Roger was surprised. "Weren't we just talking happily?"

"Filthy! Damn it!" Messemo's soldiers roared and pounced on Patch and others fiercely.

"No, how are we dirty?" Roger shouted.

"We are the Faders, don't forget that." Patch said lightly, "We are hated by everyone."

“Although we are the Faded, we came from the Royal City!” Roger drew out his rapier and shouted at the other side before the close combat, “We even reported to the Blessed King and the Golden Tree. Look here, here, there are priests who believe in the Golden Tree——”

"Shut up, you lowly Lightless Ones!" the Messermo soldiers shouted angrily, "Queen Marica's order is to purge you. Do you dare to question the queen's wisdom? The queen must have her reasons for doing this! Go to hell!"

(End of this chapter)