Chapter 27 Chapter 10 The Sacred Forest of Merlin

Merlin Sacred Grove is the cultural center of Merilon.It was built to commemorate the wizard who led his people from the dark world of the living dead to this land of life.Today it is a treasure trove of art.The wizard's tomb is in the middle of the sacred grove, surrounded by a ring of oak trees that have patiently guarded the cemetery for centuries.A carpet of green grass stretched from the foot of the oak tree to the grave.The grass is soft and treadable, and there is peace and tranquility around the cemetery—probably because few people come here. The main activity place of the sacred forest is outside the oak tree circle.Brilliant rose hedges in every iridescent color form a vast maze around the cemetery.There are small spaces in the maze where painters paint, actors perform, clowns play, and music plays continuously throughout the day.The maze itself is easy to navigate - if you get lost, just fly over the fence.However, this behavior is considered "cheating".The tall acacia trees are taller than the fence, and are transformed by the druids into wonderful "signposts" every day, pointing out the way out of the maze, because the maze changes every day.One of the joys of coming to the Sacred Grove is the maze, and the trees often provide "clues."In fact, the exit of the maze always leads to the cemetery, which is considered as its disadvantage.Many aristocrats protested to the emperor - thinking the cemetery was outdated, ugly and depressing.The emperor and the druids discussed the matter, but they were stubborn and would not change.Therefore, visitors who understand here will not go through the maze.Only new arrivals, or travelers who don't know about it - such as Mosiah - follow it to the center.

The serf mage saw the oak rings from afar and was fascinated, they reminded him of his home on the edge of the forest.As he approached the trees he saw the cemetery, and entered the sacred circle with awe.Mosiah stood by the wizard's ancient tomb, laying his hand on the stele shaped by love and sorrow.This is a very simple tomb, built of white marble.The marble has been magically modified, and no trace of variegation has ever marred the purity of the stele.It is four feet high and six feet long, and it looks ordinary and simple at first glance. The young man solemnly recited prayers for the deceased, and passed his hand over the stele.In the moist air of the sacred grove, the marble was so warm to the touch, and there was something profoundly sad about the stone tomb, that Mosiah suddenly understood why the pleasure-seekers avoided the place.

He realized it was the sadness of homesickness, recognized and confirmed the feeling that was growing in him.Even though the old wizard voluntarily left the original world and brought the people to this place where they could thrive and be freed from persecution, he never had a sense of belonging to this place. "His body is buried here. I don't know where his spiritual abode is?" Mosiah murmured. Mosiah walked to the front of the stone tomb, rubbed his hands on the smooth marble, and there was an ups and downs under his fingertips.Something had been carved into the stone.He walked slowly around the stone tomb, trying to see what was on it through the shadow of the sun.When he got to the opposite side, he could barely make out the writing etched on the boulder.The wizard's name in ancient letters, with something under it that he didn't recognize.So... what's under there...

Mosiah gasped. He heard a snicker and turned to see Simkin standing next to him with an amused look on his face. "I said, my dear boy, you can really find a place. You are so perfect in your stupefied stupidity, still staring at the weirdest things. I can't see how you would like to nest in this musty antique ruin, but ..." Simkin glanced contemptuously at the stone tomb. "I'm not dazed," Mosiah muttered angrily. "And don't say that about this place! God damn it. Do you know anything about this?" He pointed to the stone tomb. Simkin shrugged. "I know too many things, all mixed up. Let me think."

"Why is there a sword on it?" Mosiah pointed to the figure engraved under the wizard's name. "Why shouldn't there be?" Simkin yawned. "Should a weapon made by a dark craft appear on a wizard's tomb?" Mosiah said in shock. "He's not a demon artisan, is he?" "Emin's blood, haven't they taught you anything but growing potatoes?" Simkin snorted. "Of course he wasn't a witchcrafter. It was Dikonduke, the highest-ranking sorcerer. Legend has it that he asked for a sword to be carved here. About some king, some magic kingdom, and all the tables there It's round, and people are running around in clothes made of iron looking for cups and saucers."

"Oh, look—forget about it!" said Mosiah angrily. "I'm telling the truth," said Simkin haughtily. "Those cups and saucers have a religious meaning. They've been trying to find a set. Come on, do you want to stand here moping all day, or do you want to have some fun together? The illusionist and the shaper are practicing in the big tent." "I'll go." Mosiah looked in the direction Xin Jin pointed.Colorful silk banners hung from mid-air, hunting and dancing above the crowd.From all directions he could hear seductive laughter, gasps of awe, and applause.His pulse quickened at the thought of the spectacle he was about to see soon.However, as he turned to leave the cemetery, there was a sudden rush of pain and regret.It's so quiet here, so peaceful...

"Wonder what happened to that magical kingdom?" Mosiah murmured, stroking the warm marble one last time as he prepared to leave. "There's always something going on in the Magic Kingdom," Simkin said casually, pulling his orange silk scarf out of the air and dabbing it on his nose. "Someone wakes up, and then that person's dream must end." In the open space where illusionists gather, groups of people come and go in brightly colored silk satins.Mosiah had never imagined that so many people could squeeze into one place at the same time, and he stood at the entrance, intimidated by the crowd.But Simkin flitted about like a brightly-feathered bird, and taking his friend's arm, he led Mosiah into the arena, with astonishing ease through the crowd.Getting close to this person, turning around that person, and passing another person, Xin Jin can chat and laugh leisurely while walking towards the front of the crowd.

"Excuse me, man. Is that your foot? I mistook it for a cauliflower. You really should let Zelda handle those toes... Just passing by, leave us alone. Do you like this dress? My name is It's rotten red plums. Yes, I know it's not my usual quality, but my friend and I should go out in modesty. Let's hope no one notices us. Duke Richarlo! Make me swoon! Coming into town for the holidays? Did I ever do that? I'm very, very sorry, man. Must have bumped your elbow. Honestly the wine stain would make your rustic robe look better, if you don't mind me saying - well... if you No auditory hallucinations, let me go." Xin Jin pulled out the orange silk scarf out of thin air. "I can make you clean, dude, just like your wife's reputation. Ah, is it my fault you're drinking this cheap brandy that won't come off? Try a lemonade wash. Duchess hairstyle Quite a spectacle, isn't it? Ah, Countess! Charming. Is this your chartered bodyguard? I don't think we've seen it. At your service, Lower Simkin. Relatives of the Countess? Cousin? Ah, of course. , I should have known. You're probably the eighteenth cousin I've ever met. A cousin who can kiss, I bet. I envy the Countess's big family... You're talking nonsense, dear I was just thinking, countess, what a coincidence that all your cousins ​​are male, all six feet tall, and have such fine teeth..."

People turned their heads, people laughed and pointed, some floated higher or lower to see clearly, and many gathered to listen to the sarcastic young man's stinging remarks.Mosiah, trudging along behind Simkin, felt himself tossed between searing embarrassment and icy terror.It was in vain that he took Simkin by the sleeve, and that Simkin let go of his hand when he greeted two earls and a marquise; It only spurred Simkin to do more egregious things - like changing the color of his clothes five times "to throw off his pursuers". Mosiah looked around uneasily, feeling that Duke Xisi's black robe would appear at any moment.But no black hoods popped out of nowhere among the flocks of flowered, feathered, and bejeweled heads.Nor did clasped hands cast a shadow over the laughter.Gradually, Mosiah felt relieved, and even began to enjoy the fun around him, thinking that those frightening watchmen felt that there was no need to guard such a happy crowd.

If the naive serf mage had asked Simkin, he would have told him that the ubiquitous Dukexis was here too, watching everything discreetly and stealthily.At the slightest ripple that mars the seductive satin of festive splendor, they appear in the blink of an eye, erasing it in an instant.Three college students drank too much champagne and started singing fretless ditties.A black shadow flashed, like a cloud shadow passing by, and then several students disappeared, falling asleep in a drunken state. A troupe's show, which made a slightly sarcastic reference to the emperor, thought it was innocuous, was dismissed at halftime.With skillful techniques and quick movements, the audience dispersed unconsciously, thinking that the play was over.A certain pickpocket was discovered, punished, and released, and the whole process was swift and silent. The unlucky ghost thought everything was a nightmare, but now his hands were five times larger than normal people by magic, but this It is an extremely cruel reality.

Mosiah knew nothing of it, he had seen nothing, and it was impossible for him to find out or know.The merriment of the crowd must not be disturbed.So he got carried away, forgot his modest attire (Sinkin offered to change him, but Mosiah firmly declined after seeing his pink silk trousers), and blended himself into the world around him. beautiful view.He even intended to forget Simkin more or less.No one, it seems, could stand up to the bearded youth's on-the-spot humiliation or humiliating comments.He pulled out so many intimate scandals, like prying out a skeleton hidden in a closet, Mosiah thought he could see a bunch of bones dancing behind him.Although from time to time there would be a certain nobleman blowing his beard and staring or turning his pretty face pale, but all the lords, lords, ladies and princesses were happy to keep a distance from the same kind, and happily watched Xin Jin stab the next victim neatly. Knowing that he would quickly lose his way if he was alone, Mosiah stayed close to the witty clown.But his mind is not on these well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and these people also look down on him.They glanced at his simple clothes, tanned skin, rough hands, and strong arms, and immediately showed contempt, and pursed their mouths, as if he had left a bad smell in his wake. "Why does Joram want to be like this?" Mosiah asked himself as Simkin stood still and greeted another acquaintance with a happy face.Again he felt the homesickness he had experienced next to the wizard's graveyard.Surrounded by these indifferent crowds, he felt more alone than he had ever felt before.Tears stung his eyes as he remembered his parents.He blinked quickly, suppressing tears, hoping no one noticed him.In order not to let himself indulge in childish thoughts, he began to focus on the floating stage in front of him. Mosiah's eyes widened, his breath turned into a sigh, and he was drawn to slowly float down to the soft grass.Before, the crowds had bothered him, he'd felt anxious when he was worried about Duke's presence, he'd been uneasy when Simkin walked from stage to stage without looking.But now... this is really amazing!He had never dreamed of such a wonderful thing. It's really just a water dancer.She was good, but not top notch, and the only audience was Mosiah, a small group of kids, a half-blind old Catalyst saint, and two college students who were about as drunk.The children quickly dispersed in boredom.The catalyst saint dozed off standing up, while the college student staggered to find a drink.Only Mosiah remained obsessively. The stage was a platform of crystal floating on a shimmering stream that ran through the sacred grove.The druids changed the course of the great river that runs through Merilon, and let it pass through the sacred forest, watering the flowers and trees here, and bringing joy to the people.The water dancer uses her magical skills to make the stream below the stage come up to dance with her. The young lady was pretty, with aqua-colored hair.She seemed to be wearing clothes made of water, and the thin and wet dress stuck to her flexible limbs, as if the water was swirling around her, dancing complicated dance steps.Her magic makes the water seem to come to life.The water's bubbly arms took her and held her; she swayed as if she were a water. The dance ended too quickly.Mosiah thought he would see the river run dry.The lady on the crystal stage waited for a while, the water flowing from her body made her glisten, and she looked expectantly at Mosiah.Finding that he had no money to throw her, she tossed her wet blue hair and the stage rose and floated downstream. Mosiah watched her go away, and did not come back to his senses until he suddenly found himself being stared at by the crowd around him.He was startled to see Simkin falling from the air and standing on the grass beside him.The young man with the mustache has changed his clothes.In front of him, he was dressed in all colors, and he was wearing a jester's hat and a bell.Mosiah slowly realized with increasing nervousness that he was pointing at himself. "Gentlemen and ladies, brought to you at great cost and at the risk of your life from the darkest and most remote wilderness of the Outlands! This is, gentlemen and ladies, a true gem, one of a kind in Merilone. I offer you all—a redneck!" The crowd roared with laughter.Mosiah's blood rushed straight to his head, and he grabbed Xin Jin's colorful arm. "What are you doing?" he growled. "Do as I say, this is a good brother!" Xin Jin whispered. "Look, there it is! The Kenhana mage who almost caught us at the gate! Told him we were all actors, remember? Gotta pretend, don't we?" He twisted Mosiah back suddenly. "Oh my God! This is a personal attack!" he yelled. "Brutal beasts, these bumpkins. Ladies and gentlemen. Go away, I say! Go away!" Simkin took off his hat with the bells on it, and swung it desperately at Mosiah, causing the crowd to burst into laughter. Mosiah stared at Simkin in bewilderment, wondering quickly if he had enough life force to become invisible, or at least choke Simkin to death, when the bearded kid jumped at him and started beating his nose! "See?" Simkin shouted to the audience. "Very docile. I'll stick my head in his mouth when the show is over. What are you doing, Mosiah?" Simkin whispered in his friend's ear. "What about the actors in the traveling troupe? Do you remember? That Kenhana is watching! You have to exaggerate the look of struggling, man, but I'm afraid in a while, someone will smell like stinky fish The smell is coming. Get creative. We can't draw attention to..." "You're attractive enough! What the hell can I do?" Mosiah snapped back. "Bow, bow." Simkin gritted his teeth.He smiled, bowed, waved his hat to the crowd, and put his hand on the nape of Mosiah's neck.Simkin's fingers dug into the nape of Mosiah's neck, forcing the "rough bumpkin" to bow his head stiffly. "Let me think about it," he muttered. "Are you sentimental? Can you sing and dance and tell wacky jokes? Keep bowing. No? Hmm. I get it! Eat fire! Very simple. You don't mind the smell, do you? Maybe a little dangerous..." "Don't bother me!" Mosiah shouted, struggling to break free from Xin Jin's hand.He stood up straight, his face flushed, his palms sweating.He faced the crowd, and everyone looked at him expectantly.Mosiah's hands and feet were as cold as ice, and he froze. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even turn his head.Mosiah looked at the people hanging around, looking down at him standing on the grass; he saw Kenhana—at least someone in the robes of Kenhana's mage.He wasn't sure if it was the one who was on duty at the city gate that day.Still, he thought they couldn't risk it.If only he could do something about it... "Hey, Simkin! Your redneck is no fun. Take him back to the Outlander—" "No, wait! Look! What is he doing?" "Ah, kind of like that. He's drawing! That's special!" "what is that?" "That's... oh, my God... that's a house. A house made of a tree! It's so strange, so primitive. I've heard that serf mages lived in such quaint little houses, Never thought I'd see it, though! Isn't it interesting? He must be drawing us his village... Well, redneck! Well!" All kinds of comments chattered, accompanied by bursts of applause.Simkin said something, but Mosiah couldn't hear it.He couldn't listen to anything anymore.He was listening to voices from memories of the past.He is painting a painting, a living painting, the air is the canvas, and his longing for his hometown is his brush. As the crowd gathered around the young man, Mosiah's magical drawing took shape in mid-air above his head.As the pictures grew clearer and more detailed—animated by the memories of youth—the laughter and excited chatter of the crowd faded to whispers.Eventually it turns into awe-inspiring silence.No one bothered him, not even talking.All watched as Mosiah painted the life of a serf mage to a bejeweled convivial crowd. The people of Merilon saw that the house was originally a tree, and the trunk was slowly transformed from a druid into a rough dwelling. The branches and leaves intertwined to form a canopy and covered with thatch to form a roof.The gale of winter stuffed snowflakes into the cracks in the wood, and mages used their precious life force to create warm bubbles around their children.Mages ate meager food, and out in the snow, wolves and other hungry beasts roamed about, twitching their noses in search of warm flesh.A mother holds her dead baby tightly in her arms. Winter loosens its grip on the world, letting the warmth of spring seep through its fingers.The mages returned to the fields, chipping away at the still-thawed fields, and when it rained they waded through knee-deep mud.Then they floated into the air, and the seeds flew from their fingertips to the plowed field, or planted the seedlings carefully tended in winter into the earth.Children work beside their parents, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Summer comes, and people clear fields, mend houses, and work endlessly to weed, tend to young crops, and fight gnawing bugs and beasts incessantly.There will always be scorching sun during the day, and torrential rain and thunderstorms at night.But there are also simple joys.The Catalyst Saint and his children chased and played during their lunch breaks, and the children somersaulted in the air, learning how to use the Life Force, which they eventually needed to earn a living for themselves.The moment of dusk and night was peaceful, and the serf mages gathered together after a day's work.And Emin Day.They listened in the morning to the shrill voices of the catalyst saints describing the golden gates of heaven, the marble halls, things they did not know.In the afternoon, they worked twice as hard to make up for lost time. Autumn brings fiery colors to the trees and hours of spine-breaking toil to the serf mage.They are to reap the fruits of their labor, but only a small part of this fruit belongs to them.The Messenger of Wings flew into the village with a huge golden saucer.The mage piled corn and potatoes, rice and barley, vegetables and fruits on the dishes, and watched as the winged messengers carried them away to fill the granaries and storerooms of the homes of the nobles who owned the fields.Afterwards, they retrieved the little ration they had left for themselves, and figured out how to survive the winter on it.The icy breath of winter has blown near.The children of the mages are picking up the ears of rice in the fields, picking up every strand, every piece of rice, and every grain of rice is regarded as jewelry and properly collected. Then winter came again, and the snow swirled around the tiny huts, and the mages endured weariness, cold, and hunger.The saints in the village curled up in their small dwellings, with their hands tucked into their worn clothes, chanting to themselves that Emin loves his people so much... Mosiah's shoulders slumped and his head dropped.The pictures he drew among the crowd dissipated as his life force drained away.The people watched him in silence; Mosiah raised his head apprehensively, expecting to see boredom, contempt, or sneer in the faces.But what he saw was confusion, surprise, and suspicion.These people see a landscape of how a group of animals go about their lives on a distant world, rather than humans like them going about their lives. For the first time, Mosiah saw Merilon clearly, and the city's magnificence, which was far more dazzling than the bright spring, prevented him from seeing the truth before.These people are all enclosed in their own magic kingdom, and they are willing to be trapped in this crystal kingdom designed and built by them.What will happen?Mosiah thought.He looked at their rich robes, their soft bare feet, and wondered what would happen if someone woke up? He shook his head, looking left and right for Simkin.He wanted to go, wanted to leave this place.But suddenly people were rushing towards him, reaching out to touch him, to touch him. "Incredible, dear, absolutely incredible! There is such a delightfully crude art form. The colors are so natural. How did you do it?" "I'm crying like a child! Such a fantastic idea, to live in a tree! Amazing idea! You must visit my gallery..." "That dead baby was a bit of an exaggeration. Personally, I'd prefer a slightly subtler metaphor. If you did it again, I think you'd replace that with a... er... a lamb. Yes! The woman died lamb on his lap. More symbolic, isn't it? If you could change that scene..." Mosiah stared at the people around him in bewilderment.He answered incoherently and stepped back when a hand grasped his arm firmly. "Sinkin!" cried Mosiah gratefully. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see you, but—" "I suppose it's flattery, old chap, but you've got yourself into trouble and no time for hugs and kisses," whispered Simkin hastily. Mosiah looked around alertly. "Over there." Xin Jin nodded. "No, don't turn your head! The two black-robed bystanders decided they wanted to be art critics." "The name of Emin!" Mosiah's throat clenched. "Dukesis." "Yeah, I think they'll see more from your little display than the refreshments here. When they see it, they'll know it's all true, and you're blatantly claiming to be a serf mage, now take it by ear It's as eye-catching as growing corn. Honestly, growing corn isn't so bad. I can't think of anything that bumped into your head to make you do such a stupid thing!" Simkin raised his voice. "I'll have to think about it, Countess Dalrymple. A week's dinner-time performances from Tuesday? I'll have to look up his schedule. I'm his agent. Now, excuse us for a moment—no, Baron, I really don't want to say where he got such natural clothes. If you want something similar, try the stables..." "It's you who made me like this!" Mosiah reminded him. "But it doesn't matter now. What shall we do?" He watched with horror at the two black hats hanging on the edge of the crowd. "They're waiting for the commotion to die down," muttered Simkin, pretending to straighten Mosiah's clothes, but he kept his eyes on the wizard. "They're coming. Do you have any mana left?" "It's gone." Mosiah shook his head. "I'm so tired. I can't even melt a cream." "We will be melted away." Sim Jin said ominously. "What, Duke? Dead baby? No, I disagree. Shock effect. Audible gasping. Passed out woman..." "Singin, look!" Mosiah was relieved and almost passed out. "They're gone! Maybe they don't care!" "It's gone!" Sim Jin looked around more and more excitedly. "My dear boy, I hate to break your dream--it's such a mess in here--but disappearing means they must be standing next to you, reaching out--" "Oh my God!" Mosiah grabbed Xin Jinhua's sleeve. "Do something!" "I'm doing it," Simkin said dryly. "I'm going to hand over what they want." He stretched out his finger. "It's you." Mosiah's jaw nearly dropped. "You bastard." He said angrily, but shut his mouth in surprise.In his panic, it was his sleeve that he grabbed.Inside the sleeve was his own arm, which was attached to his body.In fact, his own face was smiling back at him. Suddenly there was an uproar around him, there were laughter, shouts, and screams.Mosiah looked back at herself dazedly.He saw himself floating above his head.Mosiah looked in all directions, and Mosiah's face was everywhere he could see. "Oh, Simkin, you are wonderful!" cried a Mosiah in a distinctly female voice. "Look, Geraldine—is it you, Geraldine? We're all in this wonderfully simple primitive dress, and look at these trousers!" "Pretend it!" Mosiah, who was pulled by Mosiah, quickly poked his chest. "This spell won't last long, and won't fool 'em forever! We've got to get out of here! I say, duke! That's pretty darn good, old Simkin, isn't it?" cried the Mosiah. "Keep pretending!" He ordered in a low voice. "Well, that's right, Earl, Earl," stammered Mosiah in a low voice, following closely behind the man who had last seen Simkin. "Go!" Simkin-Mosiah whispered to him, pulling him toward the exit. "I have to show His Majesty the Emperor!" he yelled. "Your Majesty must not believe that Sim Jin, that genius, absolute master of magic, king of comedy—" "Don't go too far!" Mosiah roared, squeezing out of the Mosiah crowd surrounding him. But he couldn't make Simkin hear his words. "His Majesty the Emperor! Go show it to His Majesty the Emperor!" Everyone joined in the cry.The Mosiahs giggled, pushed and pulled, and began to greet the rental vehicles.Some mosiah conjure cars with magic.Some mosiah simply disappear.Teleportation corridors opened up among the crowd one after another, holes leading to nothingness appeared in the air, and the surroundings of the sacred forest became more and more like a piece of cheese eaten by mice.Hundreds of mosiah entered the portals, and these passages sent the operators of the portals away into the vast space. "Got it." Xin Jin-Mosiah contentedly took out the silk scarf from mid-air and touched his nose. "I'm really a genius." He walked into a teleportation corridor, pulling in another Mosiah behind him. "I said, man." A dazed Song Li heard him ask. "It's really you, isn't it?"