Chapter 207 Coprophagia

Author: Crowtopia

Chapter 207 Coprophagia

I am annoyed by those laymen who point fingers, pretend to understand, and really think they understand.

But the man in front of him was different. Wuming was not sure whether he understood music, but he must understand his metaphors very well. In this way, the credibility of what this man said was greatly increased.

Wuming observed this man.

The man was not handsome - he had a big nose, one eye was cut and covered with white shadow, he had a goatee on his chin, his eyes were narrow and crooked, everything about him looked a bit awkward.

According to the aesthetics of the junction area, it can be said to be extremely ugly.

However, Wuming believed that he was not inferior in this regard, and was not overwhelmed by the man's appearance. Instead, he approached him quite confidently, with a face full of pride.

The man was sitting cross-legged in the shadow of the hillside. In front of him, there was a white bone dish, which looked like it was made from a tilted skull. On the white bone dish was placed the faded residue of gold.

Behind the man, there was a huge pile of golden garbage that was as tall as a person. It was unknown what had accumulated here.

And judging from the other white bone plates placed next to the man, this is not the most blasphemous and defiled existence.

The appetizer was fresh corpse sashimi with rotting entrails, and the main course was bread that looked like a bad omen, stained with a soggy sauce.

After cleaning the internal organs, the man lit a bonfire and burned the corpse. The flesh and blood exploded under the burning of the flames, and the smell of corruption dissipated under the purification of the flames. Seeing the flames, the man's expression rarely showed relaxation and a touch of joy.

.

The flame is still a symbol of taboo at the foot of the golden tree. The man looked at the flame with a kind of pleasure in his expression.

He didn't move until the body was completely burned.

When the dead bones were reduced to ashes and scattered with the bonfire, the man finally made a move - he pulled the ashes together with the ashes of the bonfire, and ate them with the golden residue.

The man's face was serious and meticulous throughout the whole process. He showed neither enjoyment nor disgust. Instead, he seemed to be dealing with a math problem, frowning slightly and savoring it carefully. Rather than savoring, he seemed to be fighting against some invisible oppression.

The aura is fighting - with madness and persistence.

As the ashes bibimbap ended, the man finally moved the largest plate in front of him.

The main dish was a piece of bread shaped like an ominous horn placed in a pool of blood and flesh.

But judging from the man's difficulty in chewing it, it was not bread, but a real omen horn.

For the golden people, this is a food that is more taboo than anything else.

The man chewed the horn of bad omen with big mouthfuls. The hard horn pierced his mouth, mixed with the flesh and blood of the food, and swallowed it in his stomach.

The man finally glanced at Wuming:

"It seems that you are not a golden citizen."

"How do you tell that you have good eyesight?" Wuming asked.

"If they were the golden people, they would have run away long ago. They are scared to death of me - not even to death, just because they are afraid that I will taint them." The man said, "But you watch me eat quietly."

"I'm just a little nostalgic." Wuming said, "I'm also a little surprised."

The man stared at Wuming with his ugly one eye: "Oh? How do you say that?"

"It reminds me of homesickness - there was once an old woman who liked your way of eating." Wuming said, "I'm surprised that in a place like Yatan Plateau, there is actually such a way of eating.

Do you like this thing?"

"I don't like it." The man grinned, "But I hate so-called normal food even more. Those people don't like it, so I like it."

The man answered nonchalantly, as if his mind was not right.

Wuming savored these words like a man eating, and said slowly:

"Then you are really rebellious."

"Because the golden people are like a piece of shit." The man grinned, with golden residue still on his jagged teeth.

"It's obvious that you really know shit." Wuming said, "But I still need to confirm my judgment on music and singing voice - you said I can't sing well?"

"I said what you sang was a piece of shit." The man corrected Wuming.

"I won't be convinced just by saying that." Wuming said, "If you can sing, can you say a word?"

The man burped, stood up as if he was drunk, took a deep breath, and seemed to be brewing something.

Then a wild howl sounded into the sky, which seemed to be full of pain and anger. Along with the wild howl, countless cursed souls danced around the man, and as they became more and more wild, the howls with rising tones spiraled into the sky, and the smelly...

The breaths come together to form a whirlwind.

Most of the ominous cursed souls rushed towards Wuming, the only audience present, and surrounded him with a screaming chorus.

The man suddenly stopped talking, and the cursed souls seemed to have cut off the source of their power and dissipated at the same time. The surrounding area seemed extremely quiet for an instant.

The man gave Wuming a look that spoke for itself, as if the two's musical attainments had already determined the winner between the two voices.

Wuming scratched his head: "I don't quite understand, but his voice is indeed louder than mine."

"When I was on the stage, I faced 360-degree insults from the audience and I couldn't help but curse them back at the same time. Naturally, my voice was louder." The man sat back in front of the dunghill, "But the important thing is emotion, my

The passion in your voice is beyond compare. Singing must have emotion, and you must have the skills to express your emotions."

Although Wuming didn't understand, since the man spoke so clearly, he decided to believe him.

"You eat a lot of shit, I'll listen to you." Wuming nodded.

Wuming no longer planned to discuss this issue with the man. After all, according to the man's opinion, the man did not deny his feelings and beliefs, but said that he did not show it because his skills were too poor.

Since his belief has not been denied, Wuming no longer worries about his singing level. It is not his focus.

"Then I won't bother you anymore." Wuming was about to say goodbye to the man.

"Stop," the man said, "you should stay."

"Is something wrong?" Wuming asked.

"You are an interesting person," the man said. "I think you should be blessed."

"I also think that I am a good person and should receive blessings." Wuming said, "But this thing is not yours to say. It seems to depend on the meaning of two fingers - and the approval of my customers."

The man said: "The blessing I am talking about is not that kind of blessing."

"What's that like?" Wuming asked.

"It's just like that person just now." The man said.

"Just now?" Wuming was confused, "Is there anyone else here? I didn't meet them on the way here."

The man pointed to the bonfire where only ashes and remnants of fire remained:

"That person."

Wuming became even more confused: "Huh?"

The man said: "Put the curse into your body - into your guts, into your intestines, and use your body to cultivate the curse until the horns of omen begin to sprout from within you... Ah, be blessed by the curse.

, what a happiness.”

The man expressed his excitement with a trembling voice, and pulled out a big sword from the dung pile.

The big sword seemed to be made from the spine of some giant monster. There were spikes on the left and right sides, sharp and thin, interlaced irregularly, like an asymmetrical serrated knife. It looked very ominous at first glance.

The staggered spikes pulled out the golden filth from the dung pile and fell to the ground, like pus caused by a chronic disease.

"Oh, the sword was hit by shit." Wuming raised his head slightly and was forced back by the "ominous aura" on the big sword.

He sheathed the long sword and held two shields:

"Let's use this against you."

Facing the god-skin noble, Wuming even tried to ask for reconciliation. Facing the person in front of him, he had no intention of convincing him with words.

This man's thinking obviously cannot be persuaded by words.

You can only rely on fighting.

Wuming had to admit that even before the fight started, this man felt extremely oppressive - who wouldn't be afraid of a guy covered in shit? He was simply possessed by the God of War.

"Although I often freestyle in the cesspit, I'm going to meet my idol soon, and I really don't want to be too disgraceful." Wuming said, "Just lie down."

Before he finished speaking, Wuming had already disappeared from the spot, with sparks on his feet, he appeared behind the man, raised his shield, and smashed it down on the man's head.

At such a speed, the man did not react and was knocked down directly. But Wuming did not feel relaxed.

It feels very hard, Wuming thought.

The man got up like a normal person, swung his sword, slashed it like a stick, and smashed the unknown shield.

Huge force acted on the nameless shield, and the cracks expanded with each heavy blow.

The man once again raised his sword and struck hard, but Wuming did not block this time. Instead, he tilted his shield and inserted the edge of the shield into the gap between the spines of the sword.

The man's sword swung out sword energy - a golden excrement residue was thrown out from the sword.

But Wuming jammed the sword with his shield and predicted the trajectory of the "sword energy". He had already dodged it in advance, raised his foot, stamped his foot on the man's stomach, and kicked him away.

Wuming retracted his feet and rubbed them on the grass, while observing the man in the distance.
To be continued...