Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

"A fool who does not belong to this era."

"Great Master farther than far."

"Rooted in the ancient gods of mystery."

"I beseech your gaze..."

In the dark tomb, countless corpses were piled up in the corners of the surrounding walls. Tristan knelt on the ground, and a long corridor that faintly revealed light was constantly blowing in the breeze.

The gray mist descended from the top of the tomb, and the surrounding walls were stained with abundant spirituality, and the complicated and fine frescoes gradually took on color.

The thin mist turned into a hazy spun yarn, slowly covering the surface of the murals, which either represented war, or there was a **** carrying brilliance standing between the heavens and the earth, and another existence surrounded by mist beside him. follow the screen.

The thin mist continued to reshape these seemingly ordinary paintings, and Tristan, who was in the middle of the mist, still closed his eyes, even if the response he expected did not appear, and there was no sign of getting up.

"The Lord has already fallen asleep. Unless you go to the top of Hornakis to meet Antigonus now, or break into the main hall, it is impossible for the Lord to hear your response."

At the main entrance of the tomb, Edmund Jason in Chinese clothes walked in silently, looking at the very similar figure on the wall mural, and slowly stopped.

"But I still hope to receive the Lord's blessing." A pious Tristan stood up straight, holding the mist rising and falling in the air with both hands, his eyes blank.

"If it weren't for the shock of everything in this mausoleum today, I wouldn't want to pray for the Lord's blessing."

He looked around at the shimmering murals and couldn't help sighing.

"With the help of the state of the 'Sage''s own mythical creature, it can be transformed into a special state of information, and the simplified copy is engraved on the wall in the form of a painting."

"With the help of the Lord, with the help of the projection that exists in the fog of history, it echoes with the copy here, and finally achieves a resurrection effect similar to the 'Master of Miracles' through loopholes."

Tristan turned to Edmund, who was staring at him, and sighed slowly:

"His Royal Highness, after seeing your insurance, how could I not long for the Lord's care and for a miracle to come again?"

Edmund smiled sarcastically as he looked at this "Mystic Mage" who was young in appearance but was actually born more than 300 years later than himself.

"I now regret lending you the mausoleum here as a protection for promotion."

Butterflies covered with deep blue light flew from under his feet, Edmund applied more protection to the mausoleum, and his tone gradually eased.

"No one is omnipotent. Whether it's a 'miracle master' or my resurrection with the help of this mausoleum, it is essentially an arrangement in advance with the help of its own authority and some external forces."

"Although in the time of the pale disaster, the minions of the **** of death always declared that death was not the end, and those 'undead' could return again and again under the protection of the gods."

"But in fact they will also die, just like the **** of death finally fell into the violent sea..." The flying butterflies left splendid traces in the air, Edmon paused for a while before continuing:

"Just like the creator died in the rebellion, and the three emperors of the Battle of the Four Emperors fell on the spot, nothing is absolutely eternal."

Looking at Tristan's surprised gaze, Edmund suddenly lowered his voice:

"These words are the teachings of the Lord before he fell asleep."

Before Tristan reacted suddenly, Edmund suddenly retracted the butterflies flying around him, his body collapsed suddenly, and turned into a flood of information, rushing around.

Under the echo of the gray fog and the scarlet stars, the huge information torrent turned into a closed ring, rotating at a high speed, and actively separated the corresponding area where the mausoleum was located from the spiritual world.

Amplified several times, the distorted voice echoed in Tristan's ears.

"Prepare to fall asleep, the Lord will never condescend miracles to useless people."

The gray fog that escaped to the point of being barely visible was enveloped by the sudden hunting wind, and crowded towards the faintly lit corridor.

Tristan followed the steps of this fog, the light in front of him became more and more real, and the throbbing in his heart became more and more uncontrollable.

Finally, the corridor came to an end.

The thin gray fog did not escape again, but tightly adhered to the surface of the strange cocoon hanging from the air.

This dark gray cocoon hangs in the air and above the water waves. It is essentially an item that stores enough nutrients and "lifespan" to support the demigod in good condition until three hundred years later to complete the ritual.

However, Tristan did not pay attention to this important item to him at this time, but looked at the transparent ice coffin placed next to the cocoon.

Black curly hair fell from her shoulders and fell from her chest. Evelyn with a beautiful face was lying in the ice coffin, her pale cheeks still maintaining this tinge of blood.

In Tristan's sight, several illusory black silk threads spread out from the lady's body, connecting the top of the cocoon.

This is the thread of her spiritual body. If Tristan is successfully promoted, the "Frenzy Mage" will open his eyes again after more than a thousand years.

The gray-white cocoon opened its coat, and tentacles with hidden mysterious patterns pulled the "Mystic Mage" in front of them into it.

Facing the misty future, Tristan smiled little by little.

"Good night, Evelyn."

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