Chapter 348 Dream (ask for guaranteed monthly ticket at the beginning of the month) "It takes great endurance to resist the decline in self-control brought about by carrying 'Torture' with you, and the intensification of various desires and emotional fluctuations... 'Mendicant Monks' are very good at this kind of thing..." While reading the letter from the "Magician" lady, Lumian quickly thought about whether he could meet the requirements to use that magical item. Of course, he didn't have to carry the "torture" gloves with him to use them. Lumian could have put the gloves somewhere in advance, lured the enemy into an ambush, and then taken them out. He could also save some money and buy a steam robot, letting a tool without emotions and desires to help him carry the burden. But since the ability of the "mendicant monk" could allow him to control the negative effects very well, he didn't need to take too troublesome methods. Thinking about this, Lumian thought of the negative effects of various contracts on the "Bound Person". A large part of them also seems to be attenuated by the patience and restraint of the "mendicant monks". "First you get the gift of the 'mendicant monk', then you can become the 'contractee'. Is it because you have to improve your endurance before you can bear the contract? Otherwise, someone like the parish priest who has more than a dozen negative influences would have 'exploded' long ago... "Well, Guillaume Bene is not very good at applying the abilities of 'Mendicant' and 'Ascetic'. Is it because he has long been accustomed to indulging his desires and cannot change back, or is it that he is the type who jumped in one step to 'The Contracted One' and then became a 'Life Hunter', and he does not have a good grasp of the gifts of 'Mendicant' and 'Ascetic', and uses them more instinctively?" Lumian muttered to himself silently. Thinking back to the dream in which the parish priest transformed from an ordinary person into a "life hunter" in one day, he was more inclined to the latter possibility, thinking that the performance in the dream was a symbol that Guillaume Bennet was promoted to "life hunter" with only two or three blessings. Lumian turned his gaze back to the letter in his hand and read the rest of it in one breath. Using the "torture" gloves would attract dangerous creatures, so he planned to find an opportunity and a suitable place to invite Franka to help confirm the specific situation. If it is really dangerous, then you have to consider reserving a "spiritual world shuttle" to escape the influence or attack.

The red flame rose silently and ignited the piece of letter paper filled with words. In the scattered ashes, Lumian reached out for the pair of iron-black gloves. It didn't have the texture of metal or the cold feeling, but it was very hard. Almost at the same time, among all the voices Lumian heard, two naturally magnified in his mind: One was the noise of the eloping couple swearing and cursing, and the other was the noise of drunks on the street smashing bottles and shouting. The former gave Lumian some sexy thoughts, while the latter brought him the urge to pull out his revolver and shoot. They are not too strong and are within the range of being tolerable and controllable. After making sure the gloves were the right size, Lumian placed them next to the pillow. ………… Late at night, in a daze. Lumian seemed to have come to an ancient beige castle, with many black and red marks on its surface, as if it was stained with a lot of blood. Hysterical laughter and shouting came from the castle. Lumian subconsciously raised his head and saw a dark red-haired face looking at him from a narrow window on the third floor. As soon as their eyes met, the man raised his right hand and suddenly dug out his reddish brown eyes. Tiny blood vessels then separated from the eye sockets, leaving behind a pair of bloody black holes. "Hahaha! Hahaha!" The man who lost his eyes laughed wildly. Lumian's thoughts were fuzzy, and he walked into the castle reflexively. What greeted him were bloody scenes: The maid used a dinner knife to cut open her stomach and pulled out the pale intestines stained with blood; the male servants kept climbing up the stairs to the second floor and then jumped back to the hall, falling down again and again; the man who looked like a butler held a beautiful female head, but he had no lower body, and he crawled with difficulty using his elbows to support himself, leaving a thick and long blood mark; the headless lady sat on the single sofa, picked up the coffee, and poured it into the crack on her neck... The strong smell of blood and the atmosphere of madness pierced Lumian's mind, causing him to snap his eyes open.

He saw the familiar, dirty ceiling and heard the constant noise of the noisy street at night. "Was I just dreaming?" Lumian could clearly recall the scene in his dream, and there was still some fear in his heart. As an extraordinary person who has officially entered the world of mysticism, he did not take such dreams lightly. That was most likely a revelation given to him by the celestial spirit, or some influence from the outside world. After quickly reviewing what happened that day, Lumian identified two "suspects": "Is it the aftereffect of the King Cake game played during the day, or the effect of the 'torture' gloves?" He looked at the iron-black spiked boxing gloves that he didn't carry with him but just placed next to his pillow, and felt that it must be a problem with that game. He tried to ask Thermopylae, but received no response. After moving the "torture" gloves to the drawer of the wooden table, Lumian went back to sleep. That night, he had several nightmares, and every time he dreamed of the strange castle. Fortunately for him, the clarity of his dreams kept decreasing, and in the end, they were no different from normal nightmares. ………… The next morning, Lumian ran and practiced boxing as usual, looking for a special breakfast in the market area. After sitting in the Breeze Ballroom until almost twelve o'clock, he rang the doorbell of Apartment 3, No. 601 White Coat Street again. "Very positive." Franka opened the door with a rosy face and in high spirits. Lumian did not hide his intention at all: "Didn't you say you wanted to talk about Emperor Roselle?" "This, this..." Franka's expression became strange again. She cried out: “I’m sick!” “What’s wrong?” Lumian felt that the “Witch of Joy” was in extremely good condition. As Franca walked towards the living room, she muttered: “It’s an embarrassing disease!” Lumian closed the door, sat on the sofa, and asked thoughtfully: "Embarrassed for Emperor Roselle?" "Yeah." Franka, who was sitting cross-legged in the easy chair, scratched her flaxen hair. "I'm really afraid that He will be so embarrassed that He will crawl out of the coffin and strangle everyone who knows about it!" After saying a bunch of illogical things, Franka finally sighed: "To put it simply, Emperor Roselle, like us, also comes from another world." “Is Emperor Roselle also the ‘time traveler’ you mentioned?” Lumian blurted out in astonishment.

Franka said "hmm": "Many of his inventions and ideas are originally from our world. More importantly, his diary is written in the language of your sister and I's country, so no one has been able to decipher it for so many years until we traveled here." Lumian's mind was in a mess. He felt that this was unbelievable and like a story. At the same time, he could sense the truth of what Franca had said from his sister Aurore's attitude towards Emperor Roselle and his diary. Seeing that he remained silent, Franka added with understanding: "But he is indeed a very powerful person. He started out as an ordinary person with less than Sequence 9 and completed the Path of God step by step. He overthrew the Sauron Dynasty and brought great changes to Intis and the world. He has profoundly influenced the history of the past two to three hundred years and generations of humanity." That’s right, Emperor Roselle said, “A hero is a hero, regardless of his origin”… It doesn’t matter where Emperor Roselle came from… Lumian quickly adjusted his mindset and asked curiously: "Those famous quotes of Emperor Roselle were said by philosophers from your world?" "Most of it is." Franca helped her "fellow countryman" to whitewash his image, "but some of it is his own. Think about it, a person who has experienced so many things, so many glories and setbacks, must have his own unique insights on all aspects, and there will be no shortage of famous quotes." “No wonder Aurore laughs whenever I tell her what Emperor Roselle said…” Lumian suddenly realized how his sister felt at that time, and also understood the Curly-Haired Baboon Research Society’s mocking attitude towards the emperor. He asked instead: "The Secret Records of Emperor Roselle was written by one of you?" "Yes, but I don't know who it is." Franka was very honest. "He has good writing skills." “Is everything in there true?” Lumian wondered whether he should buy a copy from an underground bookseller. Franka laughed: "Half and half. Even the half that is true is to expand two or three sentences in the emperor's diary into a chapter, filled with erotic details. For example, the emperor once had a super-friendly relationship with a witch..." Having said this, Franka suddenly paused. She remembered that she was also a witch now. Worth collecting... Emperor Roselle is indeed as romantic as the legend says... Lumian began to look forward to the underground book. He did not continue the topic of the emperor and the witch, but mentioned yesterday's King Cake game and the nightmare at night, and asked Franka, who was good at divination: "What revelation does that dream hide?" "I can't interpret it." Franca thought for a long time and said, "It means danger and stay away. Well, those nightmares are more like the sequelae of being infected with some kind of crazy aura." Lumian thought about it for a few seconds and did not discuss the issue any further. He planned to consult the two "psychologists" in the afternoon. ………… At 3:20 in the afternoon, Lumian arrived at the Mason Café in the botanical garden, sat in booth D, and ordered a cup of fragrant Intis coffee and two soft little cakes coated with cream. He waited for another minute or two for the dessert and coffee to arrive, and then he heard Susie's gentle female voice: "Good afternoon, Mr. Lumian Lee." Lumian smiled in relief: "Good afternoon, Ms. Susie. Good afternoon, Ms. Justice." PS: Update in advance to ask for a guaranteed monthly ticket~ (End of this chapter)