The dark clouds covered the figure of the shining moon, and outlined silver-gray light bands on the scattered edges. The night was so heavy, exuding a depressing silence.
The gray-black rocks are like raised stone monuments, standing chaotically on the edge of the coast. The sharp stone edges cut the waves into pieces, and the huge black waves broke into thousands of foams and dissipated in the black gaps.
The man was lying on the edge of the boat, one hand dropped into the sea, feeling the bone-chilling cold and falling into the center of the storm.
Everything was swaying slightly with the surging waves, like a mother's cradle. She was singing in a low voice, trying to calm the man's anger and make him sleep here forever.
It seems like this is a good ending...
The man thinks so.
Blood overflowed from the wound, and the heart beat feebly until it slowly calmed down. Those gray-blue eyes reflected the burning night, and finally engraved everything into the depths of memory.
The waves continued to sway violently but slowly, like undulating ferocious beasts, until they swallowed up everything on the sea.
So he was dragged into the sea, fell, kept falling, hit the deep seabed, and felt heartbreaking pain.
…
Lorenzo opened his eyes. There was no hazy sleepiness, and he had no time to appreciate what the ceiling looked like this time. He curled up into a ball on the soft bed, as if he had fallen to the ground from a height, but this time
The pain of the impact comes from the mind.
He covered his head and gritted his teeth, trying his best not to let out any painful whines.
This state lasted for a long time, and the pain seemed to subside. Lorenzo slowly stretched his body and took a deep breath.
His head was tilted to one side, and the dim light fell from the window. It was already dawn, but Lorenzo could still smell the moist freshness of rain in the air, as well as the ticking sound. It seemed that the heavy rain had not stopped yet.
That was a really strange dream.
After a long time, Lorenzo slowly thought about it.
There are always some strange sequelae of fighting monsters, such as some mental illnesses or physical pain. Normally, Lorenzo wouldn't care about those. After all, he is a demon hunter and his vitality is ridiculously tenacious, so
He didn't care about many symptoms.
But only then did Lorenzo notice changes in himself, such as headaches. Long before the fight with Lawrence, Lorenzo had such symptoms. This kind of headache from time to time. If you dig deeper, it seems that all this happened to Lorenzo.
Start by killing the burning demon.
That burning demon...Lorenzo remembered that it was called Horner.
Lorenzo killed many monsters, too many to count, but Horner was the one he always remembered. It was not that he was special, but that Lorenzo killed him in the [gap] at that time.
he.
There are still many mysteries in [The Gap], but that time Lorenzo found another way to completely kill the demon, destroying the poor man from the [Gap], and his entity also died, in that chaotic place
In death, Lorenzo also got some of Horner's memories, which were intertwined together, and then Lorenzo began to have a headache.
It seems that it all started at that time, and that fight in the [gap] triggered something that Lorenzo didn't know yet.
He thought about this until Hercule knocked on the door.
"Good morning."
Hercule was wearing brown pajamas and holding the big chinchilla in his arms.
"Good morning." Lorenzo nodded slightly.
"How are you feeling today? Are you feeling better? If so, let's get started."
Hercule looked at Lorenzo's face. Although it was still ugly, it was much better than yesterday. The cheerful detective in the past was gone. Now that he was silent, he felt much more reliable than before.
"That memory palace, right?" Lorenzo asked.
"Of course, but I'm not a hypnotist. I taught you the method. You need to find those lost memories on your own... How did you learn?" Hercule asked.
There was still some time last night, and before going to bed, Hercule told Lorenzo the basic method of building a memory palace. Ordinary people may need a long time to learn, and they may not be able to learn it to the same extent as Hercule, but Lorenzo
Lonzo is different, this guy never lacks surprises.
"It's okay, I just have a rough understanding of it and haven't tried it yet," Lorenzo said.
Hercule was looking forward to what Lorenzo would do next. He motioned for Lorenzo to come over, then turned around and led the way.
"Memory Palace... after all, this ability is a bit like a slight hypnosis on oneself. Through constant suggestion of memory, this extraordinary memory becomes instinctive. Just like a skilled swordsman, they don't need to think at all during war.
To face the enemy, they just need to follow their body's reaction. The instinctive warning and the skills they have honed over many years will help them kill the enemy.
And the memory palace itself is not specifically a palace," Hercule said.
"To be precise, it is just a metaphor, a symbol, a place that we can instinctively think of no matter what the situation is."
"Then what is your 'palace'?" Lorenzo asked curiously.
Hercule's steps stagnated, then he turned back, looked at Lorenzo meaningfully, and then said.
"Guess, you're not a detective?"
There is nothing to guess, Lorenzo said directly.
"The ship you were shipwrecked on."
"almost."
Hercule did not continue speaking, but turned to the Memory Palace again.
"This is a very abstract concept. After all, it exists in our minds, not a specific physical object. Just like the curse of knowledge you said, no matter how I describe it to you, you can't think of my 'palace'.
"
As he spoke, he opened another secret door. This door was very secret. It was inlaid with brass hangers and covered with coats. If Hercule hadn't pushed it open, Lorenzo wouldn't have realized that there was another secret door here.
Door.
"bring it on."
Hercule walked directly into the secret room. The secret room was not big. It was not even a secret room. The space was so narrow that only two people could sit down.
Lorenzo sat on one of the chairs in confusion. There was no light in the secret room. Hercule sat opposite him in the darkness. There was only a short table between them.
"What is this going to do?" Lorenzo asked.
"The Memory Palace... I usually call this place the meditation room."
Hercule said and began to introduce.
"Didn't I say it? The memory palace is actually equivalent to a self-hypnosis. Of course, the hypnosis environment cannot be too noisy. The environment here is just right."
Indeed, when the door of the secret room was closed, all sounds were cut off, leaving only the sound of the two people's heartbeats in silence.
"But this is only for newcomers like you. Unless you need to carefully inspect the palace and look for clues, I can no longer use this environment." Hercule said.
"So let's talk about how to build a memory palace..."
"I know, you said it yesterday."
Lorenzo interrupted Hercule's teaching. In fact, Lorenzo was also very smart, but he was too lazy to use it. He would only become serious when the enemy was a demon.
"Using space and symbols and memory, right."
Lorenzo recalled what Hercule explained to him yesterday and tried it bit by bit.
"That's right, represent those memories with a symbol, and then place those symbols in your palace in a regular manner."
Hercule said, taking something out of the darkness and lighting it on fire.
It was a small incense stick, with a faint white smoke emitting from it, filling the secret room in the blink of an eye.
The smell was a bit familiar, Lorenzo couldn't help but ask.
"This is... mandrake?"
"Huh? You know this too?"
Hercule looked surprised, "This is not a local crop, and it can easily be confused with mandrake. I thought no one knew about it."
"But...it's hallucinogenic," Lorenzo said.
For a long time, great detectives have relied on rolling cigarettes with this thing to solve crimes, and Lorenzo knew its function very well.
"Really? I've been using this thing to help me meditate and enter the memory palace," Hercule said, "Oh, it's nothing anyway, just use it."
He didn't care about this and continued.
"Like I said, build your palace in your mind, and then look for those lost books and lost memories.
Just like falling asleep, Lorenzo, let yourself relax...but don't fall asleep!
Yes, that's it, close your eyes and go to the bottom of your thoughts, to the place that belongs only to you..."
Lorenzo completely leaned back in the chair, and his whole body relaxed completely.
"Continue downward and arrive at the palace..."
Hercule's voice was very soft, getting softer and softer until he could no longer feel it.
The smoke of mandrake was inhaled into the lungs and blended into the blood. They surged through the body, dragging his thoughts into the deepest part. Lorenzo could feel his body gradually becoming lighter until it became heavy again and dropped.
His feet hung in the air for an unknown amount of time before finally touching the bottom. He stood firmly in the darkness and slowly opened his eyes.
"Is this... my palace?"
Lorenzo looked at the only building in front of him. He didn't think about it deliberately, but relied entirely on instinct to imagine the place he was subconsciously most familiar with.
"Sure enough, this is it."
Lorenzo thought he would never see it again, or that it was once glorious. Lorenzo thought it would be buried in the long history of the church, but it was still there, living in Lorenzo's memory.
The magnificent palace was built in the huge natural cave. The stone walls were mottled and had simple and complicated patterns. They seemed to be carved out of the rock and spread to the end of the field of vision. The stone bricks were along Lorenzo's path.
The feet rose up and led him into the palace.
There is no gate to this palace, or in other words, this huge dome is its gate. Tall stone statues stand on both sides, holding nailed swords and looking fiercely.
There was solemn divine music, and from inside the palace, there was a burning light, there was a clanging iron sound, and the shouts of warriors, as if there was an army fighting and killing in it.
Lorenzo strode forward and stepped into it. After many years, he returned here again. The place that was once considered his residence only existed in his memory, the glorious Temple of Stasis.