40. The balance of the dead. Reverse life and death
"I often ask myself, what is the meaning of death?"
"You see, I have been dying for too long, but I still don't have an answer that satisfies everyone to this very simple question."
"At first, I thought death was the end, the end of all things, representing despair, pain, coldness, and deathly silence."
"However, I soon discovered that my understanding of death was too plain and no different from those of mortals. This hindered me from continuing to explore the deeper power of death, so I began to concentrate on research."
Tyrion sat cross-legged on the ground of the Naaru's Seat in Sha'tar City. In this dark scene, he was like a teacher preaching and dispelling doubts, teaching a newbie about death.
His own precious knowledge, and in front of him, Prophet Velen held the body of his son, and he just knelt on the ground, letting his blood-stained robe be stained with ashes and stains.
The Draenei leader's seal filled with holy light on the prophet's forehead has long been broken. Now he is like an old man who has reached the end of his life, or as if he has been defeated by something painful.
With his own will, he witnessed his original blood being strangled by his own hands, and witnessed the most important person in his life dying under his own sword. This was a true human tragedy.
His eyes were no longer shining, no longer filled with the bright light of the stars as before, no longer like the wise man who had mastered all the mysteries of the stars. His eyes were cloudy, full of dullness and pain, which made him
It looks like a crucifixion statue.
This is perhaps the most substantive interpretation of suffering
A story about family love, hatred and killing, and the only witness to this story is the chattering agent of death sitting next to him, Tyrion Blade of the Dawn, who likes to appreciate all tragedies and comedies.
"Hey, man!"
Tyrion stretched out his fingers and snapped them in front of Velen's eyes. He tried to attract the prophet's attention in this way. He asked softly:
"Do you know what kind of truth I realized after I entered death at a deeper level?"
The prophet didn't answer, he didn't want to answer, he didn't want to pay attention to anything, he just wanted to hold his son, stay here quietly, and die quietly.
In fact, he now hopes that Tyrion will swing his sword and give him a hard blow so that he can meet his son in hell.
At this moment, Velen felt like a heartless monster. Maybe the accusations his son made against him before he died were true. He was a monster, a monster shaped by the Holy Light!
That was a choice. Everything Lakish did was torture. If Velen calmed down and thought about it, he would find the deep disappointment behind Lakish's questioning.
It's a pity that Velen finally chose faith between his family and faith. He didn't even spend a little more time to explore Rakish's identity, just because this demon was about to destroy a Naaru, an old friend.
Faith, at that moment, blinded his eyes.
He did something he could never forgive himself for.
"Ouch."
The great lord looked in front of him without saying a word, as if he was a prophet who had completely closed himself off. He shrugged. In the darkness, he took out two of the best cigars from the cigar box he carried with him, and smoked them in the black fire.
After lighting it, he put one into the prophet's hand and enjoyed the other himself. While puffing away the smoke, he said to the prophet:
"Throw aside all the advice about health. You see, compared to the harm caused by these enjoyment products, doing bad things is obviously more detrimental to your health. This thing can relax your tense spirit.
For a moment, my discussion with you is not over yet."
"Do you know what I saw and what I learned after you entered death?"
Tyrion's voice floated and flowed in the darkness, like a poisonous snake snaking forward in the deep light curtain, spitting out vicious letters, and wrapped around the prophet's body bit by bit. He used that
The lingering voice said in the prophet's ears:
"I was wrong, death is not cold, it is not heartless, it is not ugly, it is beautiful, very passionate, very fair, it is a blessing! An ultimate interpretation of freedom and order, you see, in
In this world, not everyone can live the way they imagine, but anyone can arrange their own death at will."
"That is the last resistance of the incompetent against the indifference of the world! But unfortunately, death will not spare anyone, no matter you are a powerful man or a humble farmer, no matter you are an evil person who has thrown himself into the darkness, or"
Tyrion's words stopped, and he let out a short laugh:
"He is also a prophet who claims he can predict the future!"
"It's punishing you! The deaths Velen carried because of you, the innocent souls in Draenor who died because of you, the painful screams echoing in the Black Temple, the desperate cries in Shattrath City, the ruins of Taymor
Have you seen the ones that never rest?"
The great lord patted the prophet on the shoulder and lowered his voice:
"Look, they are right behind you. They pray for death to punish you. That is their last expectation, and death will never let them down! Your son told you that he was atonement for you, and what he said was true.
He died instead of you, and you, what you are still living in the world is just a meaningless body. Your heart has died long ago. The moment you are too addicted to belief and ignore the reality, your heart will die.
Dead."
"Of course, you can continue to pray for the Holy Light. Maybe the omnipotent Holy Light can bring your son back?"
Tyrion's sarcasm was like a heavy hammer, hitting the broken soul of Prophet Velen, causing his already bad state to quickly slide into an even worse scenario, echoing in that body.
Under the impact of despair and pain, a trace of oozing blood emerged from the prophet's chapped lips, and an abnormal blush shone on his blue face.
"What do you want to say?"
The prophet raised his sleeve and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the burning cigar in his hand. The collapsed old man held his son's body in one hand and put the uncontaminated treat in the holy place with the other hand.
Putting the addictive temptation in the teachings of light to his lips, he took a deep breath of smoke. Between the low coughs, the prophet said in an inaudible voice:
"If you can help me, then talk"
"If you laugh at me, then go away! I need peace, and my Nuri needs peace too. I want to be with him. I haven't been with him for too long. I am not in the mood and have no time to listen to you!"
There was a trace of undisguised disgust in that hoarse voice. It was obvious that Old Velen no longer planned to compromise with Terry Ang.
The high lord was not angry because of the prophet's bad attitude, and he was not a villain! Please! This poor old man in front of you just lost his son, can't you let him vent his frustration?
"I am Lord of the Dead, Velen, my friend."
The great lord put his hands on his knees where he was sitting cross-legged, and he said plausibly in the darkness:
"Perhaps when you were alive, you people either believed in the Holy Light, or worshiped the evil energy, or you believed in the weird things of nature, but after death you are all under my control!"
"I came here to generously provide you with a useful means, a means to replace the powerless pain and meaningless self-blame! A means to regain dignity in the face of death!"
As he spoke, he took out a delicate small bottle from the lining pocket of the swordsman's robe. It was made of crystal and looked like a potion made by alchemists. As the big lord shook his finger,
, the rippling liquid in the small bottle exudes a colorful and gentle halo in the darkness, as if it is covered with a layer of moon veil.
"This is the means I will offer you, my friend."
"Let me introduce it to you. This is a treasure that my lovely daughters accidentally found during an expedition. Oh, it may not be called a treasure. In short, on the continent of Pandaria, the treasure that has been passed down for thousands of years
, the legend about the Fountain of Youth. It is said that as long as you drink a sip of the spring water, you can obtain true immortality without any side effects. It is a treasure given by the gods to the luckiest people. When you hear this, you may ask, does this thing really exist?
?”
A strange smile appeared on Tyrion's face:
"Of course it exists! It's here!"
"However, there is no perfect thing in this world, and this spring water cannot make you immortal. Mortal people like to add their own imaginations to such legends, and then it will become different as it is passed down from word of mouth.
It’s getting more and more outrageous, but in fact, it only has one effect, a very simple, but very, very important effect for you now.”
"Life Transformation!"
The high lord handed the crystal bottle filled with the fountain of youth to Velen and said:
"Give your dead son a sip, and then take another sip yourself. Your immortal life will be like the flow of spring water, flowing into your son's dead body. He will be resurrected and even change.
Healthier than ever! He will become an immortal like you, he will be your successor, and you"
Tyrion's voice became extremely cold at this moment:
"You will die!"
"Bang"
The crystal bottle was taken by Velen in a rude way. Without any hesitation, he was about to twist the mouth of the bottle and pour the spring water into his son's mouth. But at this moment, Tyrion's faint voice came from
Come:
"Are you really in such a hurry? Evil energy is infecting little Nuri's body and soul like tarsal poison. Is it really wise to resurrect him without any treatment? Or, Velen, you want your resurrection
His son, continue to be Kil'jaeden or Sargeras' lackey? Is it really okay to let him continue to be the destroyer of all things?"
Velen's movements stopped in mid-air. The next moment, the great lord put his cold hand on Velen's shoulder and said:
"As hard-working fathers as you and me, we always hope to create a perfect and bright future for our children. I know your inner thoughts very well, Velen, you hope that your son can become the savior of the Draenei people.
, can become the liberator of Argus, you hope that he will become a legend, I know, I also hope that my daughter can do great things."
"Remember Vihari?"
Tyrion said a name that made Velen clenched his fists:
"Vihari did not escape from the Legion. She experienced the "redemption" of death. Of course, she is my person. I believe you already know this. Don't be angry. What I want to tell you is that my subordinates
We have perfectly processed the evil energy in Vihari's body, turning her into a healthy and beautiful Draenei girl again. I can save her, and I can also save Nuri and save your son."
The great lord said that at this moment, he stopped talking, but Velen had a premonition from Tyrion's silence. After a moment, the prophet stood up tremblingly, and he looked at the big man sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him.
Lord, he asked in an obscure voice:
"What did you want me to do?"
“Awesome!”
Tyrion clapped his hands and said like a happy child:
"Now everyone can understand the way Dark Blade behaves. This is great. As for what I want you to do, let me think about it."
The great lord stretched out his fingers and rubbed his forehead. After a moment of thinking, he tilted his head, looked at the prophet in front of him, and whispered:
"I want you to be an Avenger!"
"There is no mercy, no bottom line. I hope you will repay the evil deeds Kil'jaeden did to you and your family ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times! Don't be merciful! Don't give up halfway!"
"I hope you will brutally remove every piece of flesh and blood of the fraudster in front of me and break every bone of his! Let him kneel down like an old dog with its spine broken while wailing in the most painful way.
In front of me, he cried bitterly and begged me to give him a "merciful" death."
"And I will reject him! His skull will become my most proud collection, and his blood-stained bones will become the starting point of your dark journey."
"Kil'jaeden's eternal despair and torture will become the "Avenger" Velen, and will be your wildest proof of the dark power of the stars! And you will be the first to bring the Dark Blade Knight back to Agu.
As the death lord of Argus, you will personally place the roaring death banner of Dark Blade on the top of the burning throne of Argus!"
"In that cold and dead way, declare the Dark Blade's absolute control over Argus! There, that world will become the new fortress of the Dark Blade, it will become the dawn of the age of death, and I will also gain a death titan worth collecting.
!”
Tyrion narrowed his eyes, looked at the prophet in front of him, and said softly:
"How's it going? What's your answer to this request I made that you can't refuse?"
