Chapter 116: The Style of Painting is Wrong

Chapter 116: The Style of Painting is Wrong

Under the night sky, a thin mist floated on Peony Steet like silk, floating against the clear water channel.

On the second floor of Peony B&B, Du Sixian leaned against the window, staring at the canal in a daze.

Earlier, An Qing told her that she was a genius. She believed it, and she even thought she would be able to master the spells on the scroll with ease.

However, when she actually tried, she realised that perhaps An Qing was just lying to make her feel better.

From 3 in the afternoon to 9 in the evening, she couldnt even stimulate her powers.

Mantras are like mathematics in the world of urban legends. If you cant decipher it, then its all gibberish.

Du Sixian herself is also stubborn. If she believes in something, she will fight for it.

She practised the mantras until she felt strangely exhausted, and An Qing carried her back to her residence.

When they parted, An Qings hesitation to speak made her suffer a lot.

She thought that An Qing was just lying to make her feel better, but she wouldnt give up. Now that shes come into contact with the world of urban legends, its too early to give up.

She raised her hands again, murmuring the inscription of the scrolls she had seen earlier.

Desolate wilderness; straw; bones; fan a fire, and a red flame will come!

As she chanted, she recalled the description of the operation of psychic energy on the scroll.

Imagine withered grass in an empty wilderness, igniting in red flames. Then, try to envision the shape of the flames at your fingertips.

The moment she sketched the flame out in her mind, she suddenly felt something stir within her, followed by a ray of crimson that gleamed at her fingertips.

It lasted for only less than a second, however, and it fizzled out before it even formed a flame.

She was immediately struck with a wave of dizziness again, and a cold sweat ran across her pale face.

Damn it-!

She sighed, got up to close the window, and collapsed back onto her bed.

Hiding her body under the sheets, she let her exhaustion take over, and soon she found herself in that weird dreamscape once again.

The biting wind choked at Du Sixians face, and after a short panic, she found herself in a dilapidated street.

Again?

She muttered to herself, bending down and picking up the sand formed by the weathered buildings that towered above her, rubbing it lightly between her fingers.

The sand and stones slid across her delicate fingers. It all felt real.

Dusting the sand off her clothes, she found a puddle of sewage accumulating under a rusty fire hydrant.

I might become premium Witch Steak if I go there!

Thinking about it, he turned around, picked up the paper on the table, and blew on the ink that hadnt completely dried out. There were crooked hieroglyphs written on the paper, copied from what he wrote on the bamboo scrolls.

Although he remembers less than a third of the content, if Jumeng could recognise the text, she should be able to remember everything.

Alright, come take a look. Youre proficient in many languages, right?

Youre asking the right person, she said as she leapt from the sofa.

Tell me! What language do you want the great goddess to translate for you? If you beg me, I might consider!

Any language?

Exactly!

Could you translate it into C?

Jumeng visibly froze, followed by a light dusting of pink on her face, Ah, except for that. Any other language!

Java, then.

Seeing that Jumengs eyes were gradually darkening and his eyes were starting to burn, he hurriedly cleared his throat and said, English. Translate this into English.

Perhaps angering an ancient goddess wasnt the wisest thing he had done.

Snatching the piece of paper from him, she spat disdainfully as she read the writings, The Writings of the Southern Barbarians. I could read it in a single glance!

Great! Whats in it?

In modern terms, you could call it a diary.

A diary?

Look, right here is the date: the third day of the month. The diary entry talks about a king asking the writer to lead 300 soldiers and bring 120 children to the mountains to worship the gods. The king is f*cking inhumane.

Sacrificing children I agree. People like these are f*cking inhumane. I cant believe a goddess like you can swear like this!

Oh, its just written on here.

Oh.

And here, she pointed to another paragraph. On the sixth day, they went eight hundred miles, and they couldnt find anybody in any of the places they went, losing a lot of people to poisonous miasma in the forest. He wrote, and I quote, [These f*cking children are so annoying. I cant sleep at night!]

!

Its not that he doesnt believe in what Jumeng is saying. Its just that the contents

He couldnt believe that a diary full of swears would lead to urban legends forming.

Did Professor Ma make a mistake?