Chapter 3277

The relationship between nail and soul has a long history. Like hair, it is regarded as the growth ring of life and records everything in a person's past.

Of course, this statement comes from witchcraft and is a mysterious legend all over the world.

From China to Africa, from South America to northern Europe, nails are regarded as important spell casting materials in mystical legends in many regions.

However, in Meiman, these traditional things have a different name from magic in the mysterious side. They are called voodoo or witchcraft.

Interestingly, when humans on earth did not have communication or effective means of transportation thousands of years ago, the use of nails around the world was surprisingly similar.

It is regarded as part of the soul.

In China, a traditional curse method is to collect the enemy's nails, and then professionals, such as witch doctors or shamans, come to a set of spell casting process, saying that this can make the enemy fester and destroy his children and grandchildren.

When Su Ming was a child in his previous life, he heard a similar story from the doorman of the orphanage. He told him to put away his nails after cutting them. It was best to wrap them in paper and burn them. Otherwise, if the nails were eaten by a mouse, the mouse would become another Su Ming, and then kill the real person, and it would take them instead.

I don't know if it was true, but at least it sounded scary at the time.

In northern Europe, the use of nails has directly become a myth. It is said that Haila has a ship made of the nails of the dead, which will transport the soul to Heim in the twilight of the gods. Only such a soul ship can carry the dead soul through different countries.

The death knell asked Hella. Unfortunately, the goddess of the underworld of 40K earth didn't have the famous death ship naglfar. She said that playing with other people's nails was disgusting just thinking about it, let alone shipbuilding.

In South America, the Mayans used blood, hair, nails or foreskin to sacrifice to gods. Of course, kings or nobles can generally enjoy this treatment. Ordinary slaves directly cut off their heads to sacrifice, and heroic soldiers sacrifice with their hearts.

It's not very popular to play with human nails in North America. Indians like to use animal nails, such as making 'lucky rabbit feet'.

In previous lives, the famous British folklore scholar Fraser also recorded a large number of things about nails in his witchcraft Book Golden branch, telling all kinds of legends and rituals about nails in Britain, France, Russia and Africa.

There are no mysterious legends about nails in Australia, but yes, Australia was a place of exile for British criminals. After sailing on that long sea route for several months, it is estimated that the criminals in the cell cabin were bored enough to chew all their fingernails.

What even the ancestors don't have, the offspring naturally don't have either.

In short, with the help of the devil, the process of finding the chief is much easier. As a hell creature, it will not die completely outside the hell dimension, so it will not die because of nausea by stirring the shit in its boots with its claws like branches.

............................

Tired of the ugliness of human nature, he wandered in time for centuries, trekking thousands of miles in the invisible and tangible world and wasting his time.

But the loud sound of the broken wall of origin was like a bell, waking up the wanderer on the journey, so after a period of flying, he returned to the dimension that once belonged to him.

For a person, being forgotten by others may be one of the most terrible things, but if he becomes the source of fear, people will always think of themselves when they are afraid.

With a burst of black feathers falling, an old man with white hair and beard suddenly appeared in an alley. He was wearing a tight leather windbreaker with a large feather collar as decoration. Although he no longer looked young, his black high leather boots seemed full of punk meaning.

In addition, he also holds a round headed carved walking stick, which looks like an English Gentleman coming out of a Steampunk world.

There was a flash of red light in his pupils. His eyes scanned the street and found his destination. It was a second-hand bookstore at the corner of the street. At this time, the light was still on, just like a lighthouse in the night.

The name of the bookstore is also very interesting. It's called 1001 pages.

However, it was obvious that the old man didn't know the stem. He just walked through the deserted street with a crutch. The cold wind at night seemed to walk around him. He was upright and should not use a crutch at all.

"Ding Ling."

The copper bell on the door rang with the action of opening the door. Behind the counter of the bookstore, a fat boss with glasses put down his mobile phone and looked at the door.

"Mr. Willett?"

"It's Wales, thank you, although it's no difference." the old man walked to the counter, shook hands with the shopkeeper with a slightly unfamiliar gesture, as if he had never shook hands with anyone, and said, "we talked on the phone. You know what I'm coming for."

"Oh, of course." the shopkeeper bypassed the counter and smiled and took the old man to the bookshelf area in the back: "I don't meet such a tasteful collector every day. At the same time, I'm so generous. I've been waiting for you."

There is some smell of ink in bookstores, but second-hand bookstores are different from libraries. The most common thing here is the strange smell of paper after mildew.

Second hand bookstores are more like antique shops in essence. The only difference is that collections are only various books and do the business of reselling cultural relics.

"Oh, thank you so much. The night in Los Angeles is not so calm." the old man followed the shopkeeper with his back hands, like an ordinary guest, looking at books on the shelves on both sides of the aisle.

They have no value, at least ordinary ancient literary books are useless to him.

"Do you know those things, too? Yes, you do have a deep study of fantasy literature." the shopkeeper rubbed his belly. After asking questions, he seemed to think of something, answered himself, and talked about the city with a smile: "They all say that Los Angeles is a transit point between hell and the world, and demons will walk in the street at night and eat people's souls like jelly. However, I have lived here for 60 years and have never seen any demons or ghosts."

The shopkeeper stopped. At this time, they were located in the deepest part of the store. There was a safe. He opened it and took out a wooden box. It was very old at first sight. The slurry on it was shiny, as if someone often played with it.

"Well, maybe it's just a legend. Is this what I want?"

The old man stopped talking about angels and demons. He was not interested in those. Because God was dead, what should the rootless duckweed pay attention to?

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