It was the crowd in the stands that bustled with hustle and bustle.

In the blink of an eye, the founding day ushered in another major event in addition to the national sacrifice and the tower gift - the sword fighting competition.

Compared with the national sacrifice and the tower offering, the sword competition is a little less solemn and a little more enthusiastic. The children of the nobles who have been trained hard can dress up in strong costumes to show their excellent sword skills and elegant posture, and the audience will also send thunderous applause and large bouquets of flowers to their favorite players, which not only satisfies the sense of honor of the young people, but also makes it convenient for the elderly to find a suitable marriage partner - even if the title inherited by the other party is not noble and the territory is not very broad, as long as the performance is enough to shine on the lintel, they are also happy to include it in the family tree and cultivate it.

Today is the last day of the Sword Fighting Competition, and at this time of the year, eight proud sons who stand out from hundreds of contestants will compete for the championship under the watchful eyes of the Black Emperor, and the final winner will receive the Emperor's blessing and the right to make a wish. But in order to add to the fun, there have been some changes to the format this year: eight people have become eight teams, the individual competition has become a team competition, some people have the same hatred, some people are tense, and there are already people outside the stadium who have set up gambling games, leaving no effort to instigate the audience to use money to express their love for the team they support.

"Nonsense!" Trenthorst rebuked righteously: "How can you gamble on such a solemn and solemn occasion?!" Your Majesty the Emperor, please allow me to ......"

"That's it, Trenthorst." Solomon pressed his palm unconcernedly, "It's just a joke between juniors, isn't it, Bethele?" ”

"Thank you for your magnanimity, Your Majesty the Emperor." Duke Abraham, who turned a blind eye to the juniors scurrying around on the gambling board, rarely praised the Black Emperor sincerely.

On the other side, Tudor was talking to the Red Angel.

"Why are you suddenly interested in coming to watch the game this year?"

Medici glanced at him lazily, "Let's see how the future pillars of the empire are stupid." ”

It was also thanks to Tudor that he could continue without changing his face: "You are right, this year's competition has strengthened the sense of cooperation and competition, and the smart and the stupid can reveal their true natures more quickly. ”

Medici gave him a satisfied look, "Yes, this kind of team competition is more like the epitome of the collective art of 'war', and it is much more interesting than the one-on-one showmanship in previous years - it tests intelligence, physical strength, and especially awareness of the overall situation." ”

If there are good seedlings with bright brains and strong bodies, but from humble backgrounds and nothing to rely on, the red of war will not mind casting an olive branch.

"Sounds like Mistress Medici has a lot of faith in her child."

"They should show wisdom in my bloodline, or they'll send me to the north to grow potatoes." Remembering who was in charge of the north, Medici added: "I have to remind Big Eyes when I turn around, don't give anything but a pickaxe." ”

"You're kidding." Tudor snorted, "But you reminded me, why didn't you see the Hidden Sage?" ”

In order to ensure a good viewing experience for all, He and Zarathu discussed attaching the Voyeur's Eye to the secret puppet, and linking the Voyeur's Eye to several mirrors. Out of an abundance of caution, He is checking each of these devices to see if they are working as they normally would. ”

"It's admirable to be so hands-on."

No, you're thinking too much. Medici glanced over to the Black Iron Throne, he just wanted to be out of sight and out of mind.

Snow is falling with the wind.

Ten thousand points of silver are woven into a dusty silk and draped over the majestic back of the mountains - its name is Grotai, which means "giant's shoulder" in ancient sayings. This should be a name that boosts the morale of the half-giants, but for more than a hundred years, the power of the god of war has never been able to take advantage of the north of the empire, and the seemingly weak voyeurs can always bring them back to their horns again and again, not to mention that the hunters will help when they are interested, but this often means that they will be more discouraged and scorched when they retreat.

"It's a kind of irony to keep this ancient name hidden."

Adam thought. He was walking alone, the cold wind tearing at his blonde hair, the ice hooking his beard, the snow seeping through his shoes and socks, but he didn't care, walking step by step like a pilgrim. Strange to say, some angels enjoy aging and delicacies at feasts, while others have to trek through the ice and snow like ordinary people running for a living—a difference that may make many people feel uncomfortable, but only Adam knows that he is feeling, remembering, and remembering.

He even gave himself a hint that the cold that would make humans shiver was a luxury for the hard-to-numb mythical creatures.

He remembered the indestructibility of the ice, condensing from the windows, hanging from the eaves, spreading from the lake, and even seeing the free ice ballet when he was lucky, and the actress with the pearl hairpin on her head was as vigorous as an eagle, she jumped lightly to the thunderous exclamation, and landed in a perfect triple-A.

He remembered the softness and heaviness of the snow, or was caught into a snowball and thrown at each other, or was built into a fortress to fight offensive and defensive battles, or was piled up into a room for a tea party, or was piled up into a snowman with a carrot nose on his head—in ancient times, the ancestors made the snow into the image of the goddess of the harsh winter and worshipped him, hoping to touch his iron heart.

He remembered the relentlessness of the wind, cutting every inch of exposed skin like a blade, and whipping a sinner. At a time when the majority of the people were oppressed and a few were enjoying glory, those who supported the people were the most heinous people, who clamed out for the cold wind to extinguish the spark, but they never thought that the spark could also burn the plains, and the flames turned into red flags and fluttered, and the embers stained the long night.

It would be nice if this fire could keep burning.

Now, all he remembers is the ashes that seem to have a residual warmth, the ashes that burned out.

Scone Zaratul felt his hands and feet tremble slightly, as a descendant of the most treacherous families of the angel family, as a secret puppet master who was also very treacherous, he should be more unfazed than his peers, but, but ......!

But why would such a big man come and ask them about their work?

"Let your puppet fly twice over that quicksand landscape."

"Yes!" Sconi almost bit his tongue, but as a master of secret puppets, his fingers habitually moved faster than his brain, and immediately led the spirit thread to make the sparrow puppet flap its wings, and at the same time, a smooth and shiny, one-meter-eight high mirror also showed a piece of sand that seemed to be thick, but in fact collapsed when stepped on, the onlookers of the nobles couldn't help but be amazed, and Scone's face couldn't help but be a little hot.

"Yes, keep it that way." Just as Thoth was about to inspect the next mirror, a black-robed figure floated over like a ghost.

"Hide Your Highness."

"Ancestor?!" Scone almost fell to his knees in fright, and Thoth glanced at him helplessly, seeing if it was a historical projection that scared the child...... Oh, I see, it's not.

"Zaratulqing, why are you here?" Thoth couldn't contain the disbelief in his tone for a moment, because in his impression, except for some important annual occasions, Zarathu could use projection without using secret puppets, and he could use secret puppets to never appear on his own, all in all, very much.

Zarathu smiled bitterly and said, "I can't help but feel ashamed to sit there because you have done it so yourself, so I asked Your Majesty to allow me to be temporarily absent." ”

Thoth's heart blinked, in fact, if he hadn't avoided Solomon, he would have wanted to go up and have a fight with Medici.

"It's hard for you to have such a heart, there are four mirrors over there, let's go over and have a look, shall we?"

"Okay, please."

Rising was the mist of tea.

Just as a man on the verge of freezing to death feels hot, he thinks of the Garden of Eden in the bitter cold. The mellow aroma of tea and the fragrance of flowers are intertwined, and such a scene is not suitable for talking about intrigue and games, but more suitable for talking about ordinary trivial and inconsequential things.

No, perhaps it is not so "insignificant", even if there is not even a page of old history left, but the wisdom and truth it contains will not disappear, the fool will discard it as if it were a walk, and the wise will savor it slowly.

"Absolute power leads to absolute corruption."

After lamenting the extinguished flames, the Hidden Sage said. Facing the approving gaze of the Creator, the young deity was a little surprised, and he unconsciously scraped the wall of the cup with his fingers, "My dad always said this on his lips, probably because of the insights brought by his work...... Did I mention his work? ”

"You mentioned it." He took a sip of tea, bitterness spreading in his mouth, and if they had confronted this truth at that time, and had formed such an organization that had a pair of discernments, stifled cravings, and purified themselves.

Whether it is a feudal dynasty or a modern society, this principle is applicable. The founding king of a country often works hard, so absolute power will help him rule the country, but the later it is, the monarch begins to slack, lazy, traitorous ministers gradually emerge, and most of the courtiers who want to change the status quo are afraid of the emperor - or the power of the traitorous ministers who are more than the same as the words of the traitor, so a dynasty is overthrown, and a new dynasty is established on its corpse, and for thousands of years, such a drama has been played out...... It's like a curse. ”

"Ahem, this is just a little immature opinion of mine, after all, there are many factors that make a dynasty fall."

"No, please continue, my friend." The Creator wanted to know what He thought, and wanted to know how far the little Bolshevik, who had taken the fire, had come.

Since the founding of the People's Republic of China, there have also been people of insight who have discovered this problem. In order to prevent this curse from being overthrown and invaded, one of our leaders came up with the concept of 'self-revolution', and my father's work was closely related to this: to constantly remove moths, fill gaps, sublimate ideas, and ensure purity by supervising the operation of power...... That's about it. ”

It is precisely because of a red line enclosed in the shadows that the eyes of the masses can reflect the eternal fire.

"That's why I'm scared, Alec." The young god furrowed his brow uneasily, "I often heard my father describe how the poison of power corroded the mind, and I don't think my morality is so high. My children trust me and revere me, but I am afraid that they will be so devout that I will turn a blind eye to what I have done wrong, or be aware of it but dare not tell me, so I can only make mistakes again and again, and become absurd and cruel without knowing it. In this mysterious world, if people's hearts are scattered and anchors are shaken, what awaits me will not be a gentle reprimand, but an attack from a foreign enemy. ”

"I'm thinking, will I be a good god?"

In fact, the Creator wanted to mention the balance between secular and religious powers, because he noticed that faith in the hidden sages had become a common consensus in several city-states. Sensing the hidden sage's wariness of power, the Creator was bitterly happy that he would not follow the mad and extreme path of medieval Catholicism and become a shackle to the progress of civilization, and worried about whether he would be able to maintain his authority in the face of believers and rivals.

No matter what you think, those in high positions must show an unquestionable posture.

"You're going to be a great god."

He hadn't figured out what to say about it—a blessing, or a prophecy? But the affirmative words were blurted out urgently.