What's even more frightening is that Watson's scepter has extraordinary permeability, just like an old priest teaching the Holy Scriptures, making people unconsciously convinced, changing themselves, and devoting their faith.
Fine electric lights appeared all over Ye Qingxuan's body, as if an invisible protective net was being set off, and there was a crackling sound.
He actually felt that Watson's music theory was infecting him...
It's like the power of natural disasters is contaminating others.
"Looks scary, doesn't it?"
Watson smiled happily and poured the remaining wine in the cup into the sea: "Thanks to the Inquisition, I supplemented the music theory of the sacred cauldron and created the scepter. Although I can make myself and others freely transform between the two parties, but After all, it is just a trivial theory - music theory cannot change people, nor can people truly be saved. Therefore, I call it - 'Apocrypha'."
Apocrypha means not following the right path.
Not the Book of the Abyss, nor the Holy Scripture, but somewhere in between.
It seems beautiful, but in fact it is extreme and radical.
Even if you can follow your own wishes, it will be difficult to achieve perfection in the end.
It is obvious that taking a step forward is sublimation, and taking a step backward is degradation, but it happened to stop in the middle.
This is Watson's scepter - a madman writing a book in the name of a sage, an apocryphal book hiding malice and poison, a hypocritical and empty redemption.
As long as Watson is willing, he can easily transform black and white, corrupt the musicians of the religious order, and make the black musicians receive holy grace.
But as he said, music theory cannot change people.
It is people who achieve music theory.
"You guy..."
Ye Qingxuan had a headache.
Watson's scepter is just like Watson himself.
It seems gentle and holy on the surface, but in fact it contains evil intentions.
Just like a cult that confuses people, once you are convinced by him, give up your own path, want to borrow his power and rely on his ability, you will gradually be changed by him. Under his control, you will indulge in superficial things. Redemption, not daring to face his true self, until in the end, he became his puppet.
You wouldn't believe it if he didn't do anything to help the island's musicians get rid of their problems.
He sighed and said, "Go back and ask Stone to fill a teaching position. You can go to Westminster Abbey and take up a position."
"You want me to be the next Archbishop of Westminster Abbey?" Watson understood what he meant and laughed strangely: "Do you really trust me to be a priest?"
"No, I'm not reassured at all. But as you said, music theory cannot change people, but people make music theory."
Ye Qingxuan shook his head. After thinking for a long time, he suddenly asked:
"And, are you interested in being the Pope of the Protestant Church?"
Watson was stunned.
For a long time, he laughed.
…
…
Ten hours ago.
Outside of Angelo, above the desolate northern sea.
After a short war, only one area of the sea has completely turned into an inhuman alien land, and the dark green sea water is filled with a fishy smell.
Wisps of mist linger in the air like cotton wool, the poison lingering in the Cup of Virtue.
In the eerie silence, the old musician stopped on the tide.
He was holding a wooden staff that was taller than him, leaning on his body, slightly hunched over, wearing a black robe, looking around at this dead sea, with a low voice.
"How long are you prepared to watch?"
He stared at the non-existent air with a cold expression, as if he saw Anubis hiding in the void.
Bitter laughter sounded, and the musician who transformed into the wolf-headed god walked out of the void and lowered his head to the old man in front of him: "We meet again, Teacher Bach."
Bach looked at him for a long time.
"It seems like you're doing well. Gaius is very kind to you."
Langdi nodded, "It should be."
"The Holy City treats you well."
Wolf Flute touched his proboscis, grinned, and showed two rows of white teeth: "I can't help it, I am a child raised by wolves, and I look like a white-eyed wolf when I am ungrateful."
Bach said indifferently, "Wolf Flute, you have a name."
"Isn't all this the result of the teacher giving me my name?"
Langdi asked back, "Just like you once said - as long as people work hard, mistakes are inevitable. Sometimes I really think, if I had been living like a wolf and died like that, maybe I would be better than Happy now.”
Bach heard this, but was unmoved, "You made the decision as a human being, why would you use the excuse of an animal to deceive yourself?"
"The teacher taught you right."
Wolf Flute lowered his head.
"So, since you dare to use a projection to appear in front of me, are you ready to go to war with me?" Bach stared at him, raised and lowered the wooden staff in his hand.
collapse!
The wooden stick hit the sea surface, like a whip hitting iron. Although there was no splash of water spreading, it made the huge ocean tremble slightly.
The projection of the wolf flute shook violently, and Anubis's skin cracked, revealing internal scars.
But soon, the shaking stopped.
In front of a pair of bare feet.
Bach turned around and looked behind him. When he saw the young man, his expression became enlightened, "You should be Charles from the Caucasus."
"First meeting, Your Excellency Bach."
The young man nodded and saluted with a respectful expression.
Bach looked at him, "Are you sure you can beat me?"
"Although I can't beat you, can you give me some face and not go to Angelo, but stay and chat?" Charles grinned, "This is the first time we meet, so it's not good to fight and kill."
Bach shook his head indifferently.
A harsh and sharp noise suddenly erupted. It was a melody with countless overlapping movements. In an instant, it seemed as if the sea and the sky were resonating.
The entire northern sea area was sealed in an instant, and the heaven and earth moved under Bach's will, catering to his rhythm. The Blue King's will runs between heaven and earth, controlling the elements from the etheric realm, and taking over the control of everything.
It was as if the sky suddenly collapsed and the ocean surged.
The sea and the sky merge here.
collapse!
The sharp sound stopped suddenly.
Charles stretched out his hand and pressed it into the void, as if he were holding down the moving sea and sky, forcibly eliminating the vibration and crushing the noise.
It's like holding up a speeding wheel. The skin on the palm was broken, the unhealed wound was torn again, and the wound on the little finger oozed blood again.
The blood flowed out, fell into the sea water, and became infected.
Just a drop of blood made the aura of disaster lingering over the entire sea area dissipate.
In an instant, the sky was clear and the fresh wind blew from afar, so magnificent that it was almost miraculous.
Bach didn't do anything again, but looked at his missing little finger silently, his brows furrowed, as if confused.
Charles's face was already red from suppressing it, and he forced a smile: "Mr. Bach, when my junior brother went to school, he still used your letter of recommendation. We always have feelings for each other... Why is this necessary?"
Bach didn't speak, just stared at him silently.
Watching him walking barefoot on the sea, without using any music, the sea water lifted him up, like a miracle.
After a brief silence, Bach seemed to understand something and suddenly asked:
"Char, do you really think you are the Son of God?"
Charles was stunned for a moment, and his smile became embarrassed: "I don't think I look like it either. I'm so shy and droopy. If God really had a child like me, that would be such a sin."
"Is your finger hurt?" Bach asked.
Charles looked at his palm, put away his little finger, and smiled: "It's due to fatigue, just a minor injury."
"Is it?"
Bach said coldly, "You are consuming yourself. You should know - I don't know what you exchanged for it. Such a sacrifice is not normal for you and the Caucasus."
Charles was silent for a moment and replied: "Someone must solve the urgent problem."
"People's affairs should be solved by people, and people should bear the consequences, not you."
Bach's tone was straightforward without any euphemism: "Charles, no matter how much you sacrifice, it will only let them understand the huge gap between them and you - you should know everything about your own nature. Don't do anything redundant. The more you do, the more mistakes you make. Now, get out of here and don't block my way. If I hope I have mercy on you, then this is the last mercy."
"Mr. Bach, have you ever heard someone cry?"
Ciel suddenly asked.
Bach said nothing.
"Have you ever seen people suffering?"
Charles asked in a low voice: "Those homeless people are wandering in the wilderness, eating weeds, living like dogs, lying on the ground, looking up at anyone who comes towards them, hoping that they can save themselves. Can you turn around and leave? Have you ever longed for help from others? Like me, I longed for someone to save me and help me, even if it was just to be my friend, someone would tell me that I have not been abandoned by this world. , living in this world is not meaningless..."
"That's who I used to be and now I'm not - so I'm not going to give up and if I can do it, I'm going to do it and if someone comes to me for help, I'm going to save them. I don't want anyone anymore. Sacrifice for me, I want to carve out a place for them where they can live.”
Charles stared at the silent Bach, his flattering smile disappeared, and his expression was serious: "Mr. Bach, I don't want to be your enemy, and I don't want to leave here. But if you want to continue moving forward, then you will be my enemy. .”
Huge wings of light slowly unfolded from his back, covering the sea and sky, casting a bright glow.
Behind him, the kingdom of heaven called Eden slowly emerged, reflecting the young man who was like a god and the musician who was known as the strongest.
Bach closed his eyes.
After a long time, he sighed softly.
"Do you know why the blue kings of all generations have left the human world, Ciel? It's not just to open up human land, nor to prepare for natural disasters in the dark world... "
"—Because humans don't need gods."
Bach raised the wooden stick in his hand towards the young man in front of him, and his silent eyes were no longer filled with compassion, but filled with thunder.
"Now, there is no need to talk nonsense anymore, let 'your enemies' experience your abilities."