Silent Crown Chapter 162: Place with flowers

The pale moonlight hung high in the sky, illuminating the silent city and the turbulent city. The moonlight reflected the indifferent silver-white marble palaces and the shacks that collapsed in flames.

The wisps of mist traveled through the burning fire, lingering in the city like a living thing. The mist was misty, covering the blood and killing with a cold white.

In the depths of the fog, a hoarse and distant song came vaguely.

That is a memorial song for the dead.

Downtown area, Whitechapel District, Highgate Cemetery.

Smoke hovered over this quiet and desolate land, and the dark iron gate of the cemetery opened wide, revealing the way to the world of the dead.

The gray-white tombstone is stuck on the ground like a tree, with the dead tree pointing diagonally to the sky, a dead silence.

The seabirds arriving from afar brought seeds, so thumb-sized white wildflowers grew among the muddy mulch.

The finely divided petals carry yellowish pistils, covered with dew, and sway gently in the cold wind, like the last breath of a buried person from the ground.

Right between the tombstones, the shaman stood in the quagmire in a dark sacrificial clothing.

He stared at the tomb in front of him, in which lay a simple wooden coffin.

It was an already cold corpse, as if it were still alive. The corpse stared at the sky, glaring at the sky, as if preparing to draw a knife and split the enemy into death.

His enemy beheaded his head and he died, but his companion won the victory and brought back his body.

"——Yvesley."

The shaman pressed the wooden coffin, his eyes were compassionate and complicated. His hoarse voice echoed in the cemetery, like introducing this new member to the world after death:

"He is my loyal subordinate, a heinous villain. He will follow me to death and never change his original intention.

He is addicted to alcohol and violence. Not a good husband, not a good father, let alone a good person.

He is dead. "

The shaman spreads out his palms. He covered the two silver coins in his hands on the pair of dead eyes, and paid for him to sail through the Styx.

He glanced at the face of the deceased one last time. Say goodbye softly:

"——Avalon thank you for your dedication."

The coffin lid closed, and the shaman put a nail on him, watching the dead sink into darkness, enjoying eternal peace.

A new wooden coffin was brought up. There was no hideousness or serenity on the face of the deceased, but he fell asleep quietly.

"Eric?"

The shaman looked at that face: "I know you, so you are dead too."

He compassionately wiped the dust off the face of the deceased, and whispered:

"He is a small gangster in Xiacheng District. He has done a lot of things, but he has not succeeded in those things.

He used to be full of enthusiasm for doing big things, and couldn't wait to get ahead, and then he did everything badly.

He did nothing. "

The shaman put the silver coin on the deceased’s eye pupils, and whispered goodbye:

"May you find the meaning of life in endless sleep."

The coffin lid closed, and the shaman took the hammer and tightened his ‘bag’ to the kingdom of the dead.

The wooden coffin sank into the quagmire and disappeared.

-

The new coffin was delivered. This time, the shaman couldn't help but sigh softly.

"Tianzhu people, Shi Luo Yiduo."

He looked at that distorted face. There was no sorrow or joy in his eyes, just pity: "I saw you again, let me see you off."

He smoothed the distorted face for Shi Luo Yiduo, and declared quietly:

"He came here sixteen years ago, and this city did not refuse his arrival.

In order to get ahead, he sells banned drugs for a living, and opens brothels and prostitutes. He had two sons and one son died as a result. A son sent back to Tianzhu, and he dared not let his son know what he was doing.

In order to make money. He poisoned many innocent people, but his arrival also brought the chaotic drug under control. A few people were spared.

He was guilty of death, but he was not worthy of death. He was just a poor worm that could not be reached by both ends.

He has given a lot to this city, and he has also obeyed the rules.

Unfortunately, he went the wrong way. "

The shaman put the silver coin over his eyes, closed the coffin lid for him, and nailed it:

"Rest in peace, your name will remain in Avalon's memory."

-

The last thing that came up was a heavy iron coffin. In the iron coffin, the man in heavy armor had passed away.

It was like experiencing the slashing of swords, the burning of fire, and the stabbing of arrows. The deceased had no skin, but he did not release the heavy sword in his hand until he died.

There is a thick blood color remaining on the crack of the broken blade, and it trembles gently in the cold wind, like a sigh of a soul.

"Werner the dwarf dog, the leader of the Asgardians, you are dead upright."

The shaman wiped the blood off his face with a handkerchief and folded his hands on his chest. He looked at his face as if he saw his life's courage and roar:

"Ten years ago, he and his men came here to replace the one-eyed, selling their own force and plundering wealth.

Avalon accepted him unselfishly and gave him a place.

He doesn't have a long-term survival skill or outstanding long-term vision, and he never lives on being sentimental. He only admires power and follows power.

He was fearless to death and was an outstanding warrior. He could have made this city better, but unfortunately..."

He put the silver coin over the eyes of the deceased, looking cold and regretful:

"——He failed this city."

The iron coffin closed and sank into the quagmire.

The shaman turned his head, looked behind him, and looked at the coffins sent from the end of the white mist. The dead were asleep in those coffins. Some of them are his friends, and some are his enemies. Those who could not survive in the sun died tonight and were buried in the darkness, sinking into the shadow of this city forever.

He will witness their deaths and give meaning to their meager lives, even if the meaning is as light as a feather.

-

During the long funeral, the ghost staggered behind him with a cane in his hand, and said something softly. The shaman nodded ~IndoMTL.com~ to signal that he knew.

The ghost hand was silent for a moment, and asked softly, "Do we really care about the lunatic asylum?"

"I let the butcher go, just let him bring Alberto's corpse back. If he did, it was enough. Someone will take care of the rest."

The shaman said: "We only solve the things we should solve."

Ghost nodded and heard the shaman's hoarse whisper:

"Ghost?"

"Hmm."

He raised his head and looked at the shaman's back.

The old man stared at the tombstone gradually growing out of the mud puddle, like talking to himself, but also like a faint sigh:

"We planted so many corpses this year, will there be a lot of flowers in the coming year, right?"

No one responded. (To be continued)