In the endless life, Vladimir deliberately touches the true meaning of life.

He began to try to create life, he spent hundreds of years raising butterflies, and according to certain rules to choose the traits he wanted to live, and finally came up with this almost artistic axe-winged butterfly.

Contemporary Mendel!

In addition, he tried to transplant rare plants from exotic lands to the barren land of Noxus, and transformed them.

Fukuko Island, where the land is rich and full of magic, can only bloom for one night, and the night flowers that will wither after one night bloom all year round in his garden.

The secret of this is that he has changed the things that water the flowers, using the mixture of blood and tears to lure the delicate ones to take root in the barren land, and the red petals are as bright as flames, so beautiful that people forget to breathe.

There was more to the garden than that, but the clock had already struck midnight, and Jeno did not stop there, and led the two girls over the threshold and into the mansion.

The vaulted vestibule was empty, with only a cloth-covered easel standing on the fishbone floor, and the rest of the moonlit areas were completely dark.

It's strange that there is no servant in a huge mansion.

"Baron Vladimir, are you there?"

Jeno held up the letter, his voice echoing through the deserted space.

"I'm here." A voice came from above, revealing upbringing, demeanor, and aged mellowness.

Jeno followed the voice, a curving staircase rising high up to the middle level and a wide archway, but beyond that he couldn't see anything.

"I'm Jeno, I'm invited, these two are my companions, Sivir and Rivan."

The owner of the voice did not show up, and Jeno introduced himself into the air.

"Very well, put the weapon on the shelf and come up, I will lead you into the history behind this mansion, and the sharpness of the weapon will hurt those fragile paintings."

As soon as the words fell, the cloth on the easel naturally fell.

The painting is so old that it has faded, the light bleached the colors, and time has smoothed out the brushstrokes. But the power in the painting is still strong - a young man in the prime of life, dressed in bronze plate armor in an ancient style, with a fiercely curved sickle painted in a banner fluttering on his shoulder. Most of the details had been lost, but his blue eyes were still bright.

Jeno saw an army behind the man, a group of burly and tall warriors, such a large body could not be human, and the beast-like form could not even be real.

Jano "Darkborn...... recognizes these warriors for what they really are.

Those giants are fallen Celestial warriors, they are the Darkspawn, and the man in front of him actually uses the Darkspawn army as a background board, you can imagine how arrogant he is.

"Yes, my first life was spent in the age of the Darkspawn."

"The first life?" Jeno clearly heard what Vladimir said, and it seemed that the other party did not intend to hide his life experience.

In the first life, he was a prince of a small country, too young to be qualified to fight for power among the many heirs, and was offered as a hostage to the Darkspawn as proof of royal submission. But the king did not have the letter to vote for his lord, and the prince should have been killed to warn the king, but the master of the Darkspawn had cruel pleasures. He asked the prince to lead an army to conquer the prince's country and presented the king's head to him.

The prince was thus appreciated by the master of the Darkspawn and learned a little bit of the magic of the Darkspawn. In the end, he took advantage of the Darkspawn Civil War and used the blood sorcery he learned from his master to kill the dying Darkspawn master, absorbing some of his power and gaining the power of immortality.

Jeno urged the two to place their weapons on the heavy black wooden frame that supported the front hall, Riven decisively put down the rune broadblade, while Sivir struggled for a while before putting down Calikar and following Jeno up the stairs.

The arch above the middle level of the staircase leads to a wide hallway, the black stone of the walls so cold that it almost freezes for breath.

Rows and rows of lacquered wooden planks are fixed to the black stone walls, and thousands of butterflies with their wings flattened are nailed to the boards.

This is a compassionate history of evolution, showing how the ordinary black-winged butterfly can be artificially selected to transform into a Noxian flag-like axe-winged butterfly.

"Did you make these specimens all by yourself? This patience is admirable. Jeno didn't reach out to touch the specimens, knowing that the fragile corpses would disintegrate the moment they touched, turning into countless itchy particles.

"Specimens...... Very incisive words, I get inspiration from the death of these butterflies, but their lives are too short, and the meaning of their death is condensed in the wings. ”

The voice paused, looking a little surprised.

"A short life means frequent generational changes, which is a good option to reduce the cost of time." Jeno said.

"It's unbelievable that you can understand what I mean by doing this, and most people only feel compassion for the death of these butterflies. You know, their death prompted me to gain enough knowledge, and with my will and knowledge, combined with a hundred years of time, and thousands of generations, I finally created a new species. ”

There was a burst of laughter from above, and Vladimir felt genuinely happy, and his soft voice like velvet slowly drifted down.

"It's amazing, I think if the test subjects were replaced with crops, maybe there would be no shortage of food in the whole of Noxus now."

As he spoke, Jeno led the two girls into a large circular room, where the texture of the light changed.

The walls of this room are ancient cut-out stone blocks and are located on the ground floor of the ancient tower. The rough staircase on the inner wall spiraled upwards in a clockwise direction, and a strange ruby light fell from somewhere above through a faint curtain. The air was filled with the smell of red-hot metal, like the hot air of steel from the furnace of the Armament that fed the Empire's war cravings.

The circular walls on the ground floor of the tower are covered with portraits, framed and painted, no two are the same, ranging from crude abstraction to realism as if a real face was imprisoned in a canvas.

The painting in the antechamber depicts a young man in his prime, and the painting here depicts the same person, but at a very different stage of life.

In one painting, he is middle-aged, still physically strong and full of energy, but there is a little more resentment in his eyes. In the other painting, he is old and devastated by the years, and he is not even sure whether it is a living person. There is another painting in which he is at the end of a great battle with a bloody wound, with a large ivory-colored stone statue behind him.