Hundreds of years ago, after countless trials and sacrifices, the nine surnames of the dragon vein successfully completed the miracle of 'music theory inheritance', and music theory was passed on to future generations along with the bloodline.

Hence the birth of talent, which itself is the condensation of music theory, the sound of the heart and even the rudiments of the chapter of fate and even the scepter!

After all, a person's life is finite, and compared to the huge world, it is not worth mentioning, and it is as small as dust.

In order to explore the essence of Dayuan, the ancestors of the nine surnames of the dragon vein created the blood of heaven and man, and took music theory as a legacy, leaving it in the bloodline from generation to generation.

Countless descendants have passed the torch from generation to generation.

As long as the bloodline is immortal, then one day, it can evolve to the realm of the Great Source.

After dozens of generations of ancestors, the 'ladder' that has been passed down to Ye Qingxuan's hands can be said to be perfect.

Its remarkable adaptability across the Seven Series is undeniable, not to mention its terrifying ability to defy boundaries, resonate over long distances, and transmit its power thousands of miles away.

And all Ye Qingxuan needs to do is to combine the ladder with his own music theory.

After careful consideration, Ye Qingxuan felt that what he had learned was so complicated that he simply gave up the way of change, summoning, and chanting, and focused on the school he was currently mastering.

Revelation, illusions, psychics, and forbidden as the core.

That's why he had a headache.

It's so hard to get so many things together in one go.

What's more, there is also the music theory of the Philosopher's Stone. If you abandon it in order to complete the heart sound, it is tantamount to buying a pearl, not only will the research on Xiaoyuan be wasted, but also the huge foundation brought by the Philosopher's Stone will be lost.

It's heartbreaking to think about......

So, now the question arises.

How do you reconcile so many vast and complex music theories into a coherent whole?

Thinking of this, Ye Qingxuan's expression became sad and melancholy.

"Exactly...... What's wrong?"

He muttered softly, staring at the myriad intricate notes, looking for omissions in interpretation.

However, the music theory involved is too complicated and huge. Even with the assistance of a large-scale tuning instrument, it is a huge project, and it is simply not enough to rely on oneself, and the results of each mental calculation are often in the opposite direction.

It's been nearly half a month, and he still has no clue.

He closed his eyes and stopped thinking, his fingers tapping against the wall, humming a fuzzy tune in fits and starts.

It's okay, don't rush.

There's still a long way to go.

In the same afternoon, across the corridor, two old prisoners were bored behind the bars.

The old man in the wheelchair swayed and picked up the teacup, took two sips, and shook his head as if dissatisfied.

"Has the pharmacist changed? The 'condiment' is a little too little, and it has no taste. ”

He put down his teacup and sighed softly:

"I can feel my feet. ”

In the cage opposite his room was a bald old man with his face buried in a **** magazine. He was already dizzy from the afternoon sun, but he was extremely focused.

When he heard his voice, he pursed his lips and looked up, saying:

"Your feet are long gone, and I cut them off with my own hands, have you forgotten?"

"It's because you're old and confused, and I picked up a new one later, which works better than the old one. ”

The old man in the wheelchair lifted the blanket covering his knees and shook the soles of his feet proudly at the other party: "Oh, look, look at ......"

Beneath the severed calf, there was nothing at all.

But the old man's cloudy old eyes stared at it for a long time, and he suddenly patted his head, "yes, how did I forget this stubble." ”

"Right. ”

The old man in the wheelchair covered the blanket again, and under his calves, there was obviously nothing left, but the shape of his body was highlighted. It's like some kind of twitching limb, slowly squirming.

"It's itchy......"

The old man in the wheelchair stretched out his hand, scratched his non-existent feet through the blanket, and his expression became sad: "Hey!

Lao Tang is going to die tonight, and Lao Qiao is also about to die, it should be the day after tomorrow. ”

The bald head was stunned for a moment, and closed the **** magazine: "Isn't it still good to look at yesterday?"

"In his early years, his heart was modified too much, and now he can't beat anymore. The old man in the wheelchair shook his head, "He won't last long." ”

"That's right......"

"I've lived to this age, and I'm going to be damned. The old man in the wheelchair clicked his mouth, "It's not easy for everyone to be neighbors to each other for so many years." ”

"Eighty years ago, he was damned. ”

The bald head unfolded the magazine again, buried himself in it, and just said lightly: "It's a pity that the 'old immortal' died." If you don't persuade him to hurry up, maybe the Holy City will have mercy and find him a prostitute to provide him with hospice care. ”

"Forget it. ”

The old man in the wheelchair shook his head: "Eighty years ago, I was able to change the secret of three cities, and now let him change it to a prostitute? If you want to do your best for the Holy City, you can do it yourself. ”

"I want to do my best, but the Holy City doesn't. ”

The bald old man laughed strangely: "Otherwise, after the dissolution of the Inquisition, why did they send me in to read the Yellow Book? I can't figure out why the Holy City is ......."

"Because you're a pervert, Molian. ”

The old man in the wheelchair said expressionlessly, "You're a." ”

"Thank you for the compliment. ”

Silence returned.

After a long time, the old man in the wheelchair asked, "Why are you reading that thing again?" ”

Mollian raised his head and smiled old and kind:

"I don't know why, I want to kill someone. ”

The old man in the wheelchair felt something, raised his head, and stared in a certain direction: "Because of him?"

"That's right. Molian sighed: "You only have itchy feet, but my hands are itching, itchy very much." Thirty years earlier, I might have been unable to bear it. ”

He listened to the faint humming sound coming from afar, and couldn't help biting his nails.

Teeth rubbing, clicking.

"Young people nowadays ......"

He whispered, "That's amazing." ”

"That's right, your parallel import master in the Holy City was detonated by him, and he killed six of them in an instant, and he didn't even breathe. ”

"That's not what I said......"

Molian looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot scarlet, "It's not this. ”

The old man in the wheelchair was suddenly silent, his mouth tapping, listening intently to the faint sound in the wind, the fingers on his knees tapping to the beat.

The sound was just a vague humming, indistinct, without any detail to speak of, intermittent, like an illusory sound of the wind blowing.

But for these two old antiques who have been immersed in music theory for decades, it is enough to hear some clues hidden in them.

Then the finger that was tapping the beat on the knee stiffened.

Under the blanket, the wriggling right foot wriggled like a snake, and soon, it regained its stillness.

"Original...... So. ”

He sighed softly: "I remember that I was less than twenty years old?

Molian looked at him, his eyes mocking, "If you have such an amazing talent without the help of gods, who do you think would be stupid enough to be a black musician?"

“......”

The old man in the wheelchair was speechless, but just looked at him deeply: "I've been a neighbor for so many years, I advise you, don't beat his idea."

You don't want to be blindfolded and taken away as a test subject one day, do you?"

"Don't worry, I'm just sorry. ”

Mollian laughed, "Whether I do it or not, those old monsters of the Cardinal Church won't let him get out of here alive."

It's a pity that such a good young man can't die at my hands......"

"That's all for the topic of the scenery. ”

The old man in the wheelchair sighed, "If you continue to talk about it, the tea will become unpalatable." ”

He picked up the teacup, drank the cold tea, and wiped his mouth. The remnants of the tea fell from the rim of the cup and spilled on the table, sneering.

I'm sorry, it's a bit of a cardin, ask for a monthly pass incentive~ (although it doesn't feel like it will have a great effect, but everyone votes for it first, maybe it'll be useful~) (To be continued.) )