Chapter 37 Chapter 8 A Thousand Mosiah's Illusions

"I don't want to go inside." Gwendelin said tremblingly, looking into the rustling darkness in the sacred forest. "You... you and I... both," Simkin lisps, tripping and staggering on top of Joram, nearly knocking him over. Joram grabbed him angrily, for Simkin's legs were weak and he was about to collapse.Xin Jin grabbed Joram's neck and whispered in his ear, "This...it's boring as hell here at night." "I don't want you to go in there either." Gwendelin shivered in the night wind.Although Sihana allows the upper city to blow a warm and fragrant spring breeze, the lush vegetation in the garden makes it much cooler than the city.Perhaps not even Sihana's magic could warm the evening chill of the Sacred Grove.

"Why doesn't your friend meet us outside?" "He's running away, remember," replied Joram, helping Simkin up, who glanced sideways with the seriousness of a drunkard. "So do we. Life will never be the same from now on, miss." He didn't intend to say it harshly, but his anger and disappointment, which had been drowned in the excitement of fleeing the palace, now flew back to him on the wings of the black swan through Merilon.The dark and gloomy atmosphere of the Sacred Grove, and the anger at Simkin who emptied all the champagne glasses. "It's impossible for Duke Sis to...follow the bubbles along the way...to keep up with us," Simkin declared.

Gwendelyn hung her head.She returned to her own form again.Joram saw the blond hair hanging down, the beautiful shoulders slumped, and looked hurt by his words, and he realized that he had to control the dark beast trapped in his heart more carefully. "Stand up!" He grabbed Simkin and pulled him up. "Yes, yes, captain." Xin Jin gave a military salute, turned around gracefully, and sat down on the grass. Joram ignored him, but took Gwendelyn's hand. "Sorry." He murmured. "forgive me." "No, I'm the one who should apologize." Ge Wen said, trying to smile. "You're right, I have to expect such a thing." She pushed Joram away, stood up straight, pursed her lips, and raised her head. "I'll go in with you," she said.

"No, it's not necessary." Joran's smile was barely visible in the night. "You stay here with Simkin—" "'Stay with me and be my love.'" Simkin recited the lines drunkenly. "'Let's Grow Cauliflower Together'..." "Think about it," Joram said. "Perhaps you'd better come with me." "I will. I will! I will not be afraid. Never again. I want you to be proud of me." Gwen added the last sentence hopefully. "I'm proud of you. And I love you!" Joram leaned forward and kissed her lips lightly, as if he was applying ointment to the festering wound of his soul. "Then come with me. It's not far, Mosiah'll be in the cemetery, we'll bring him back, and take this drunken drunk on the road. Getting out of the city will be as easy as leaving the palace, and then we can go to Saraken !"

"Drunk alcoholic?" Simkin glared around angrily. "There's one thing that can't be done. People... don't know... when to stop..." Joram and Gwendelyn, holding hands, were tormented by the same inexplicable terror that Mosiah had been in the angry grove.The two walked quickly, hoping to see their friends soon and leave this place.They did not speak.A certain silence permeated the sacred grove.Not peace and tranquility, but a certain breathless silence, the silence of the hunter who waits for his prey.In the silence, a whisper is like a shout.Their hearts were pounding, and though Joram crept across the grass, with Gwendelyn not touching the ground at all, but floating beside him, the noise of their way through the sacred grove sounded to them both. Noisier than the thunder and roar of several armies.

The stream, which had been cheerfully murmuring during the day, now slid quietly and maliciously along its banks like a snake slithering through the grass.Gwen and Joram walked along the stream, through the maze of hedges with ease, and at last came to the heart of the sacred grove. Merlin's tomb stood alone in the middle of the oak tree ring, the snow-white marble reflected the cold and pale light like the moonlight.The hands of the lovers clenched and drew closer to each other.Joram suddenly found that his white robe was reflecting the tombstone, reflecting a strange white light.Once he stepped out into the open, he would become a prominent target.

But there is nothing to be afraid of.he reminded himself.How could there be?They all escaped from the palace... "Wait!" He grabbed Ge Wen and hid in the shadows of the trees. Although these shadows were not friendly, they still covered them with the black shadow cloak.The two waited and watched with bated breath.The glade was empty.No one is by the headstone.Or someone?Is the one moving next to it a human form?Too far away to tell... Joram's hand moved towards the Dark Sword little by little, but he dared not use the sword.The sword absorbs magic, sucking the power out of both Gwen and Mosiah.They needed the strength and magic of these two to get through the gates, and Joram thought unkindly that Simkin was worse than useless.

"I think that's your friend!" Gwen whispered, grabbing Joran's hand tightly. "Yes." Joram looked into the darkness, watching the figure come to their side of the cemetery. "Yes, you're right! That's Mosiah. No, you're here waiting for us." He let go of her hand and walked on. "Qiao Lang!" Ge Wen grabbed his sleeve. "What's the matter, dear?" he said softly.He turned to face her, forcing himself to look patient.But he certainly couldn't fool her, and her hand feebly let go of his sleeve. "It's okay." When she spoke, a wry smile was barely visible in the hazy halo of the cemetery. "It's just that I'm stupidly scared again. But please hurry up." Her lips were so stiff that she could barely move.

"I will." He agreed, then gave her a reassuring smile, turned and walked towards the clearing. "Mosiah!" he ventured to call softly. The figure turned and stared into the darkness in amazement.Joram held up a hand.Then, seeing the hesitation of the figure, he thought Mosiah hadn't recognized him in the white robe.He was close enough to see his friend's face, so he pulled off his hat so that Mosiah could see his face too. "It's me, Joram!" he cried even louder.After seeing the familiar facial features of his friends, he became more and more confident.

Mosiah grinned now, a sigh of relief that echoed across the clearing.He came running with his arms outstretched, and before Joram could figure out what was going on, he was hugged comfortingly by his friend. "My lord, Emin, it's good to see you!" Mosiah hugged him tightly. "Where are the others?" "Gwen is waiting in the woods over there." Joran responded awkwardly to his friend's hug, and then instinctively wanted to break free from Mosiah's arm. "Sinkin's pretty drunk. We've got to drive Marillon," he said, wondering why Mosiah didn't let him go. "Come on." He finally got angry and tried to push his friend away. "We gotta go! It's dangerous now. Let go—"

He can't move.Mosiah hugged him tightly, staring at him with a sneer, the halo of the cemetery reflected in his blue eyes. "Mosiah!" cried Joram angrily, and the fear welling up in him gradually turned him as cold as stone. "Let go!" He suddenly twisted his body, trying to get rid of the restraint of the young man in front of him, but it was all in vain.The arms tightened around him, and he knew now what the force holding him was - and he grew more and more afraid - magic.He was caught by a spell!Joram writhed to reach for the Darksword.But as the iron arm of magic tightened, he soon lost all his strength. The struggle that followed was not to get the sword, but to survive—struggling to breathe.Joram gasped and stared into Mosiah's face, wondering what was going on.He heard a scream somewhere, a woman's scream cut off with a deft touch.He wanted to talk, but he couldn't breathe at all.The darkness of the sacred forest quickly overwhelmed his vision.Death was approaching, so he stopped fighting and waited for the end of the pain. The arms that clamped him were familiar with this response and relaxed.Mosiah's face smiled and recited a word, and then the face disappeared. Joran raised his head at the last moment before losing consciousness, and saw the snow-white skin and expressionless face of a woman in black robe, who hugged him tightly until he fell down. She lowered him gently to the ground.As he slowly regained consciousness, he heard her warning a companion he couldn't see clearly. "Don't touch that sword."