Compared with the spacious and empty classrooms on the first floor, the space on the second floor seems much smaller, and the decoration and space are more divided. It looks like the reception room of a private club.
But there are no waiters or bartenders in this reception room.
Some of them are ferocious specimens of various magical creatures scattered around the room, such as the Tanggula ice dragon, the Welsh green dragon, the Minotaur in armor, the unicorn wearing a saddle, the paws of dwarves, and the feet of giants.
Eyeballs, whisks made of centaur mane, handicrafts made of fish-man scales.
Many of the ornaments are still 'alive'.
Nikita could clearly hear the wails coming from 'deep' in the bodies of those ornaments. This pain was like rich spice, enriching the lichs' gradually drying up emotions.
Sir Ulrich led the guests deeper into the reception room.
Like a catfish falling into a lifeless sardine box, the fresh smell brought by the strange guests attracted the attention of many old lichs in the reception room.
They slowly turned their necks, a little red light bloomed in the depths of the dark eye sockets, and the joints made a clicking sound, like a rusty machine restarting, and gears lacking lubricant turning.
Nikita lowered his head, held his breath, followed the captain, and passed through the tables quietly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the bowl held by an old lich - it was a pale skull bowl filled with bright red liquid, hot and bubbling. The old lich's hands were like slough.
The skinned chicken feet were skinny, pale, and covered with horrific scars.
The banshee swallowed quietly, retracted her gaze, and stared at the captain's heels, daring not to make the slightest move. The wizard's rationality and the demon's impulse mixed together to create a group of crazy lichs, and the older the lichs became, the more they became older.
, the ability to control emotions becomes worse. Only by becoming a great lich and relying on the power of law to control the madness can one maintain sanity in his decaying age.
The 'elders' who stay on the second floor of the mage tower all year round are old lichs with very high magic power, but not strong enough. They rarely interact with the people downstairs.
The young banshee was very doubtful that these crazy old lichs on the second floor would chop off her head just because she walked with her left foot first.
At the end of the reception room is a dark wall, with rows of shriveled heads hung on the wall. There are heads of husbands with four antlers; there are Gorgon sisters with snake hair; and there are heads of three heads.
Cerberus, three dog heads, each with a bloody mouth, with dry poisonous snakes coiled in the hair.
Of course, the most numerous 'hanging ornaments' are the wizard's heads.
Old wizards, young wizards, wizards, witches, wizards wearing pointed hats, wizards with totems painted on their bald heads, wizards with beards hanging to the floor, wizards with half human face and half bear face, and so on.
In front of the black wall, there is a small altar.
The meter-high pedestal is divided into three floors and is in the shape of a pyramid. The pedestal is roughly decorated with several stone pillars, several sculptures that look like they were smashed with stone tools, and a few dirty cloth belts. On top of the pedestal, there are
A bronze tripod with three legs and two ears.
There is no lid on the cauldron, but there is a fire under the cauldron. The sound of gurgling water comes from the cauldron, as if someone is making tea.
"Didn't you always want to know the respect the lich has for the True Ancestor?"
"Now you can see."
As he spoke, Sir Ulrich leaned down and bowed in front of the altar, then took out a piece of dry bacon from his pocket and threw it towards the bronze tripod on the altar. The mouth of the tripod looked like a monster with an open mouth.
Swallowed the old lich's sacrifice in one gulp.
There was a grunting sound coming from the cauldron, which sounded like the monster burping after eating, or the sound of the monster's stomach digesting.
"May the True Ancestor bless you."
Sir Ulrich clasped his hands together and recited a sentence very reverently, then stood up, got out of the way, and looked towards the audience.
"May the True Ancestor bless you!"
"The true ancestor bless you!"
The old lichs who were sitting in their respective seats drinking tea in a daze were forced to stand up, follow Sir Ulrich's sacrifice, and send their blessings.
At the same time, they also took out some sacrifices from their sides and threw them at the bronze cauldron - the better ones, similar to Sir Ulrich, threw a piece of blackened bacon, and the worse ones threw a few pieces with ribbons.
The bones of shredded meat, and a few old lichs who were a bit over the top, actually threw bugs at the True Ancestor.
Nikita could see it very clearly, it was the kind of bug with a hard skin and sour flesh!
When she was starving to death in the Sahara Desert, she couldn't even eat the kind of bugs!
Sir Ulrich turned around and showed his hands to the captain of the Mist:
"At this age, the lich's respect for the True Ancestor is almost the same."
The old lich's tone was somewhat innocent, but his wrinkled old face was filled with a mocking smile: "...many wizards were forced to fall, and have never had the honor to face the power of the True Ancestor. So we
Offer sacrifices to Him, and He will give us some psychological comfort... Young lichs need more psychological comfort, and the sacrifices may be more generous; older ones, depending on the situation, need little comfort from others... so the sacrifices are just that.
That’s a little bit.”
"A very fair deal. Don't talk about faith, just talk about some food and drink, and everyone is still a monster."
Captain Misty's eyes fell on the black wall.
"A very beautiful collection." It sincerely praised: "Especially the head of the little wizard... As soon as I went upstairs, I could feel the unyielding soul in his skull, shining like a beacon in the storm."
Sir Ulrich replied meaningfully: "The younger the soul, the more powerful and powerful the impulse is, and it is as refreshing as a piece of crisp hard candy. The old soul is like brown sugar due to decay. Although the taste is rich,
But it is easy to be manipulated, and it will stick to your teeth when you eat it.”
call!
The door at the entrance to the second floor was opened again.
A small group of young lichs filed in, led by a banshee with closed eyes, with the lich's 'work'-shaped mark printed on her eyebrows, and wearing a large cloak. Followed closely by
A muscular male demon, with his head hidden under his hood, seems to be holding a little girl in his arms, with only two calves exposed, shivering outside the cloak.
After the male demon, there are several figures, some are tall and thin, some are short, some are slim. The only thing they have in common is that they all lower their heads and hide their heads under their hoods, as if they are full of awe for this unknown world.
Along with the breeze in the hall, Nikita faintly heard the banshee asking the old lich at the entrance holding the skull and blood bowl who Sir Ulrich was in a very pleasant voice.
Just as Nikita thought, the old lichs are all bad-tempered.
The old lich refused the banshee's inquiry in an irritable tone.