Chapter 207 Coprophagia

Wuming is annoyed by those laymen who point fingers, pretend to understand, but really think they understand.

But the man in front of him was different. Wuming wasn't sure if he understood music, but he must understand his metaphors very well. In this way, the credibility of what this person said is 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 looked a bit awkward.

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

However, Wuming believed that he was no inferior in this regard, and was not overwhelmed by the man's appearance. Instead, he approached him quite confidently, with pride on his face.

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 by tilting the skull. On the bone plate lay the faded remains 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.

Judging from the other white bone dishes 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 sauce that was as wet as a chronic illness.

After cleaning the internal organs, the men lit a bonfire and burned the body. The flesh and blood exploded under the burning of the flames, and the corrupted breath 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 looks 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 the golden residue.

The man's face was serious and meticulous throughout the whole process. He showed neither enjoyment nor disgust. Instead, he looked like he was dealing with a math problem, frowning slightly and savoring it carefully. Rather than taste, he seemed to be fighting, fighting against some invisible depressing aura - 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 hard chewing, it was not bread, but a real horn of bad omen.

For the Golden People, this is a taboo food more than anything else.

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

The man finally glanced at Wuming:

"It seems 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 worried that I will taint them." The man said, "But you quietly watch me eat."

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

The man stared at Wuming with his ugly one eye: "Oh? What should I say?"

"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 the 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 he was not in his right mind.

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 say 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 drunkenly, 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 then spiraled into the sky with increasingly wild and high-pitched howls, and the smelly The breaths formed a whirlwind together.

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

The man suddenly stopped speaking, 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 self-explanatory look, 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."

"I was on the stage back then, but when I faced the 360-degree insults from the audience and I couldn't get behind the curse at the same time, my voice naturally had to be louder." The man sat back in front of the dunghill, "But the important thing is emotion, my The passion in the voice is beyond compare. Singing must have emotion, and you must have the skills to express the emotion."

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

"You eat a lot of shit, it's up to you." Wuming nodded.

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

Now that his faith has not been denied, Wuming no longer worries about his singing skills. It is not his focus.

"Then I won't bother you for now." 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 you don't have the final say on this. It seems to depend on the meaning of two fingers - and the approval of my customers."

The man said, "The blessing I'm 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 nurture the curse until the horns of evil begin to sprout from within you... Ah, be blessed by the curse. , what a blessing.”

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, and irregularly interlaced, like an asymmetrical serrated knife. It was 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, shit hit the sword." 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.

Only by 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 could finish his words, 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 really didn't react and was knocked down directly. But Wuming didn't 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 hit it hard, but Wuming did not block it this time. Instead, he tilted the shield and inserted the edge of the shield into the gap between the spines of the spine sword.

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

But Wuming used his shield to jam the sword, and he 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.

The man got up again.

"Unyielding, unyielding." Wuming exclaimed, "How can such a stupid person come from - he is just like me back then."

Wuming did not let the man get close this time. He controlled the distance to prevent the man from rushing to his side. At the same time, he used long-range attacks such as fireballs and thunder guns to continuously reduce the man's physical strength.

But the man became more frustrated and braver. The parts and flesh on his body were constantly being cut away, but his movement became faster and faster. He actually began to gradually adapt to the rhythm of Wuming's attacks and continued to get closer to Wuming.

He even rolled in the excrement pile, like a porcupine rolling in the mud, and his resistance to flames and thunder guns was greatly improved.

Wuming clicked his tongue, stopped trying to attack, picked up his shield, turned around and ran away.

The man gave chase, and the two quickly ran uphill to a battlefield ruins.

Wuming no longer stopped, and controlled the thunder and lightning to attract the surrounding weapon debris to the side of the shield, forming a "sword and shield" as high as one person.

Then sparks spurted out from behind, and with the same momentum as when he smashed the lava earth dragon with his elbow, he hit the man with his shield.

Facing the meteor-like attack, the man howled wildly again. The roaring sound and the huge amount of cursed souls pushed forward, continuing to reduce the strength of the shield.

But in the face of Wuming's exertion, these could only be slowed down slightly. The sword and shield broke through the cursed soul and sound waves, and blasted towards the man.

The man fanatically raised his sword and slashed at the big shield without fear of death.

The shield overwhelmed the greatsword, pressing the spines back into the man's cheek, and then the entire shield surface smacked onto the man.

The moment the shield photographed the man, the man's body flattened for a moment.

Then a human cannonball flew into the distance, flesh and blood flying everywhere. The man drew a ravine on the ground, bounced several times, and rolled until he hit a rock before stopping.

The man finally stopped moving and passed out.

Wuming succeeded with one blow, but there was no joy at all on his face.

On his face, a pool of golden excrement splashed onto the face shield from bottom to top and spread along the top.

Just like raindrops spreading upward when encountering high-speed glass, a golden brown crown spread out on the top of the nameless helmet.

The "Sword Skeleton Shield" collapsed, and the weapon fragments fell to the ground, along with Wuming's original shield.

"Ah!" Wuming held his head and went crazy.

When arranging the weapon remains into a shield, Wuming had already thought about the gaps in the large sword and shield, and deliberately stacked a few more layers to ensure that the filth on the man's body would not break through the shield.

But after all calculations, Wuming forgot one thing.

His clean and complete shield had already had a small hole poked by the god-skin noble before.

When the shield squeezed the man's face with great impact, the small hole endured great pressure. The filth on the man's body was also under great pressure, and rushed towards the only pressure outlet, turning into a very strong jet - ejaculating Wuming's face.

The nameless shoulder armor extended into a rearview mirror, and then stretched in front of the nameless face, reflecting the golden excrement on the nameless helmet.

Wuming knelt down helplessly, holding his hands on the ground, extremely frustrated:

"It's over, I can't dress up beautifully to see him..."

The frustration quickly turned into anger. Wuming angrily walked up to the man and crushed the man's face with his feet.

The rearview mirror on the nameless shoulder armor turned into a mouth:

"I don't understand. Wouldn't you be polluting more dirt by doing this?"

"There is a saying called the broken window effect." Wuming said, "Just like once the shoes are a little dirty, it doesn't matter if they are all dirty."

After Wuming finished explaining, he continued to crush the man viciously and beat him wildly.

"He seems to be dead." Mouth continued.

"Is he dead?" Wuming asked.

"Are you not dead?" Mouth said, "I can no longer detect any vital signs."

"I hope so." Wuming sighed.

"What's the meaning?"

Wuming stopped and took a few steps back.

The man's body repaired rapidly under the golden blessing light, and like time flowing backwards, his fatal injuries were healed directly.

Before the self-defense could burst into tears, the man had already stood up again with great energy. Without saying a word, he picked up his sword and continued to chop at Wuming, as if his resurrection just now was just an ordinary fall.

"Faded person..." Wuming's expression became serious, and he no longer cared about the dirt on his body. His elbow sprayed fire and he punched the man's head off.

Within a minute, the man got up again.

"This is troublesome." Wuming said.

"How about an attack like burning or corroding?" the clone Teardrop suggested.

"It's useless." Wumingshi rejected this method without even trying it. "I'm familiar with this. No matter how powerful the moves are, it won't work. Will - this is the only variable."

"Look at this invincible blessing, why did you refuse it?" The man rushed up again, attacking Wuming feverishly.

Wuming dodged the man's attack and kept retreating.

Mimic Teardrop said: "How to break his will? Language? Or great pain?"

"This kind of person's will...cannot be broken down by those little cleverness." Wuming said, "The only thing that can defeat will is will. In the end, it will just be about who has stronger willpower and who can persist longer."

Wuming suddenly laughed: "I didn't expect that I would be treated like the powerful enemies I faced back then. I am also a big boss."

He dodged the man's attack, retreated all the way, picked up his shield, and blocked the man's sword.

Then the long sword was unsheathed and slashed from the waist to the chest, smashing his heart to pieces, and then kicked him away.

"Although he is crazy, he is a powerful warrior." Wuming set up his sword and shield and lowered his body, "Then let's show our will."

In fact, I could have written it twice as carefully, but after thinking about it I decided to forget it. I’m afraid some readers won’t be able to bear the 8,000 words of shit.