Rewind time by a few minutes.

When night falls, the moonlight shines through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows into the museum's exhibition halls, and the exhibits in the exhibition hall wake up from their sleep and begin to enjoy their freedom.

Sunflowers stretch their petals on the canvas and despise each other for the presence of their companions. Those with three flowers look down on five flowers and feel that things are scarce and precious, and those with fifteen flowers look down on twelve flowers and below, thinking that they cannot show the splendor of sunflowers at all. When Vincent first created, he must not have imagined that his works would appear so ugly.

Leaning against the railing, the shouter cleared his throat, and the clouds and sea behind him swirled in its sound, rolling up bottomless whirlpools, as if one could see through those vortices the endless starry sky or the ancient palace that sat at the deepest bottom of the sea.

The Sphinx shook the dust off his body and stood up, a rumbling sound echoing throughout the exhibition hall. The stones on it are so old that even the museum's most senior researchers are unsure of their age, and it is said that the human-faced lion in front of the pharaoh's tomb in Giza, Egypt, was a replica of it, which added a lot of prestige to the museum.

There were also groups of Cupids, bare-assed, flapping their little wings, flying around, shooting arrows at every wizard and witch they saw. It's just that the wizards who can have a place in the wax section of the museum are no longer young, and they have passed the age of spring.

Then there are Thestrals, when they are alive, the wizards can't see their appearance, and when they die, they leave only dry bones, and the wizards still can't see their appearance clearly.

The false sun hung over the sand table, spewing blazing flames into the valley below. Glass-fired horses and camels hid in the shade, sticking out their tongues and gnawing on the sand. From time to time, black-robed wizards would dig out the arms or legs of white-robed wizards in the sand—the traces of the day's war on the sand table—and then they shouted, brandished their magic books, and helped with the formalities.

The whole museum.

Except for the contemplative who likes to sit alone on the stone platform in a daze, almost all of the long-legged and moving exhibits in the museum will walk off the booth in the moonlight and night, stretching their muscles and bones, and shaking their spirits.

It's their freedom.

It's the immobile exhibits, such as the skull of the legendary cyclops Kukropes, who has only one head left, so he can only stay in a glass case, singing strange songs that no one else will ever understand.

The young hunters of the Sin Hunting Team sneaked into the museum through the side door, without attracting much attention from the exhibits.

Every year, every month, too many young people sneak into the museum by night.

There are male and female witches holding hands, hiding in the shadows, some holding homework books, coming to the museum to find exhibit descriptions, hoping to polish their papers, and hearing the rumors that the museum is haunted at night, bringing magic books and rune paper, coming to subdue demons and subduing demons in search of excitement.

No matter what these young wizards do, or how they do it, the museum exhibits mostly turn a blind eye and pretend not to see the sneaky figures.

After all, they are not in the same world as them.

It was supposed to be the same tonight.

Someone walked into the house.

Someone walked up to the stage.

There were also people standing guard outside the door, sitting on the stone steps, with their backs to all this.

Everything should have been so clear.

Until the hard thorn on one of the branches of the Arala tree pierced the finger of a young wizard, and a little red blood beaded on the tip of the thorn.

With that bit of blood spreading.

Everything is different.

Although the museum is alive, the occupants who 'live' in this museum are all dead.

Tonight, as the blood-colored breath spread, the dead creatures who had been in this living coffin all their lives suddenly smelled a glimmer of opportunity to break the law of death.

A glimmer of opportunity can take them out of their puppet-like life day after day, like a real wizard, or a real magical creature, out of the moonlight and into the sun.

The hollow eyes of the skeletons were stimulated by the breath, and in the deepest part of the black hole's eye sockets, a red glow flickered, the specimens made of magic touched their empty chests, as if they heard their hearts beating, and the heavy stone statues, clumsily moved off the booth with their hands and feet, and walked with heavy steps, looking for the direction of the breath, and the whole museum rumbled.

......

......

The young wizards, who are being chased by a flood of fossilized bones, are in a daze of what is happening in the museum. The rush of pursuit only allowed them to focus on the flight in front of them, and they did not have the energy to think in the slightest depth.

But as the best young people at the First University, they are not too pessimistic, even when they run away.

They would joke and complain to each other, and guess together the cause of the rebellion of the bone exhibits.

So far, Zhang Jixin has put forward the most direct guess - he threw the incense ash from his right shoulder when he entered the Baicao Garden, so it brought bad luck to everyone.

Throwing incense ashes over the left shoulder before entering the garden is an ancient custom of shamans and is said to bring good luck.

But what will happen if you throw it over your right shoulder, no one knows.

Theoretically, if you lose in the opposite direction, the consequences should be the opposite. It is not surprising that Zhang Jixin feels that he has brought bad luck.

But this explanation is also a bit too far-fetched.

Zheng Qing flipped through a page of the law book, summoned a few vines, twisted them together, and tied a thick rope, one end tied the tail of the two-headed dragon fossil, and the other end circled a few times on the black pillar farther away, tying a knot.

Watching the dragon howl and writhe in mid-air, he turned his head, his face gloomy, and said:

"Throwing away a handful of incense ashes can't bring such a bad result...... The fat man just knocked a bird away, so isn't he going to be beaten to death with a peachwood stick?"

According to legend, Hou Yi was cursed by the big rabbit because he bullied a bird, and was finally killed by his disciple Xiaomeng with peach wood.

Although the fat man has become larger, his ears have not failed, but because his ears have become larger, his hearing has become much more sensitive.

After hearing Zheng Qing's speculation, he stumbled under his feet and almost fell in the white bones like a tide.

Then he ran and complained with a crying voice: "This thing...... How can I see what's in front of me...... There are so many of them!"

In last year's Potions class, the fat man suffered for a few days because he mistakenly picked a bowl flower.

So he's extremely sensitive to this kind of godly chatter.

Rumbling cries echoed through the exhibition hall.

It's kind of funny.

It's also a bit pitiful.