World of witchcraft.

Sixty-four years of reign.

"Mom, who is that person and why is he always next to the trash can?"

"Shhhh Later, I'll see him hiding a little... Bad luck ......"

Green stroked his long messy and sticky hair, revealing his slightly magical green pupils on the land, lying on the trash can like a wild dog, pulling out a duck bone that had been eaten by someone, and licking the only scraps of meat that had been left over from the dust.

A convoy of carriages and horses came up the street. The carriage is richly decorated, gorgeously carved, and quite graceful and luxurious. The guards beside the car were all in high spirits, and even the horses held their heads high, as if there was a tender green grassland in the sky.

The little duke in the car lifted the curtain, glanced in Green's direction, frowned, and said to his subordinates sideways:

"How can there be such garbage that hinders the appearance of the city?"

The guard saluted discerningly, ran to the trash can, and kicked Green. Green was caught off guard and rolled for a long time before being blocked by the wall.

The guard stamped the ashes off his feet in disgust, and quickly turned and ran back to the duke, wagging his tail like a pug at the duke's approval.

Green didn't stand up immediately, just stared blankly at the dust raised by the galloping horses in the distance, there was no anger in his eyes, just an empty incomprehension.

"The city at night is a lamp."

This is an old saying that circulates in the city of Wizede, not that the person who speaks it really has any romantic feelings, and can feel the poetry of the stars. Literally, the city is bright at night, and there is only that one light—the light of the rich district.

Every day, the wealthy area is lit up at sunset and revels until the next sunrise. People in the outer districts don't know what they're doing and don't want to know.

The pressure to survive has crushed most people's self-esteem, not to mention the insignificant curiosity. However, there will also be a small number of people who yearn for the joy of chasing the all-night and are taken away by the inner district and are nowhere to be found.

But Green wasn't interested—he wasn't interested in many things, such as the neighborhood aunt's daily struggle with the triangular two-dollar vegetable money, the downstairs uncle's reprimand for hating iron and steel, and the hordes of children who were either afraid or contemptuous.

Sixty-eight years of reign.

He said he saw the light.

No one believed him because he was just garbage – a garbage who made a living by picking up leftover bones in a garbage can.

So Green's world is monotonous, like a slum at night, with nothing but death about to crawl out of the mouth of a sewer well.

Later, many people saw him lying on the gravel floor, drawing strange stripes on the ground with long stones he had picked up or dried branches that he had folded casually.

He said he was going to paint the light in his eyes.

No one believed him, because he was still a piece of trash—a trash who only knew how to draw ghosts on dry land.

Green's time was fast, and it was almost time for the prosperous lights in the rich area at night, and it was also depressed. All he remembered was a group of white armor walking in front of him, and after that, he hadn't seen those ostentatious dukes again, and the world was much cleaner - for others, of course, as for Green's world, it had always been quiet.

Seventy-one years of reign.

On that day, Green poked his head out of the discarded cotton quilt, shrunk and opened the bottle with unknown runes painted on the side, and just as he wanted to pour the liquid inside on the branch to make a fire, a white armor appeared in front of him.

The white armor took off his helmet, combed the broken hair behind his ear, and stretched out his hand to him like a filth without minding his body, and said gently:

"Hello, we are the Guards, and we are here to help you."

Green didn't remember many things, but he still remembered the voice of the white armor, clear and bright, like the light he had been searching for, different from the lights of the rich district, and the people walked away.

Seventy-three years of reign.

At the wedding hall, her ponytail had turned into a waist-length drape, and he had also changed from an embarrassed homeless man to a famous chief priest.

Without listening to the vow, he kissed it. It's not because he doesn't know the process of the wedding, but the light in his eyes is too beautiful and moving.

The first year of Hongguang.

"My little Green, don't worry. This time it's just a preparatory battle, and the remnants of the kingdom have been almost wiped out by us last time..."

She fastened the armor around her waist, locked the left and right handguards, combed her long ponytail again in front of the mirror, but did not cut it, and continued:

"This time, I'm just going to fight as the old captain."

Green didn't speak, or rather, he didn't know how to persuade himself in this situation to keep the person in front of him. Because he had never seen light in the first half of his life—he had no experience in how to protect a light.

What he didn't expect was that there were very few wounded soldiers this time, less than in any previous battle. Not because of how little pressure there was on the battlefield, but because most of the soldiers died on the stretchers they carried to him.

The sense of foreboding tore through his soul, and was sewn back little by little by the expectation of "yet to happen".

Perhaps, as he wished, she did not lie on a stretcher when she returned, but followed the endless crowd of corpses, gnawing at everything that was visible to the naked eye.

The soldiers who should have been buried next to the cemetery came back from the dead, turned into bloody walking corpses with white eyes. They can only be vaguely recognized as they were when they were alive.

They... They joined forces with the corpses outside, tearing the supposedly impregnable city of Wizeld to pieces, filled with screams and the smell of corruption.

He saw her again, but this time it was no longer the Believer and the Light, but the Prey and the Hunter.

In the eyes of the outside world, Wiezed fell. The entire city has been reduced to the walking dead.

The remnants of the kingdom's army trumpeted that the Associated Guards had disregarded human lives and poisoned the people, and gave up on rescuing Wizede, causing it to fall into the sea of corpses and blood.

The Assistants, who were suddenly devastated, denounced the kingdom for its unscrupulous efforts to achieve its goals, and led red corpses to attack the city, resulting in the death of countless innocent people.

Soon, though, their opinions and opinions didn't matter, for in Wizeld, a monstrous expanding force appeared.

It has only one ruler now, or forever, one ruler. It is a name that makes countless forces that will be swallowed up by the red tide talk about it, and it is also a mark of the times that will exist in history.

The first year of Wushuo.

"Wizard" Green unifies the northern cities.

No one believed him, because he had to be a piece of trash—a trash who would rather turn his wife into a witch puppet than rule the world.

Wushuo nine years.

"So... You're coming to apprenticeship? ”

The wizard lifted the slightly silvery-white curls of his sideburns, raised his eyebrows as if he felt amused, and showed a slightly eerie smile, as if joking:

"Have you ever thought that you would be turned into a witch by me?"

"Yes..."

The child in front of him had a maturity beyond his peers, raised his eyebrows, which were still slightly childish, looked at the wizard's green gaze, and said firmly:

"But I need witchcraft."

The wizard was stunned, as if he couldn't understand the reason for her apprenticeship, but he was not as obsessed with asking as ordinary people, and just said simply:

"Yes, but you have to tell me how you got to me through layers of bloody corpses."

The child bowed his body, bowed respectfully, got up slowly, ignored the anxious gaze of the wizard, and said calmly:

"Teacher, you should know that blood corpses will not attack their own kind."

The wizard nodded, his fingers tapping on the cyan lantern beside him, a little impatient, and motioned for her to continue. The child understood, pointed to his stomach, and said:

"But the way they judge their own kind is simple... As long as there is flesh and blood in the body that belongs to its kind. ”

Before this moment, the child had always thought that the giant who unified the north should have strict protection for his safety. But as the time spent together increased, he changed his mind little by little.

Wizards rarely take the initiative to set up devices to protect themselves, and even the most common house is the most insignificant former guard's quarters in Wieseld.

He retreated into the dormitory building every day, staying for most of the day, occasionally going crazy and moaning. This is very much in line with the outside world's impression of his madness.

Fortunately, the wizard has not forgotten the agreement with himself, and will always take a time out of the day to teach himself to engrave some magic circle graphics, or simply instruct himself on the production and use of some strange props.

She remembered that the wizard had only left the city once, and that time he had a rare look of ecstasy, and had brought with him a large pile of jars and jars that the child had never seen before.

The child did not see him again until the night. For a moment, the child felt that the wizard would never return.

At sunrise, she gave up hope and was about to return to the house for the time being, but she saw the figure coming from afar.

That was the first time the child felt that the wizard was also very fragile, and he was just an ordinary person.

The wizard's robes were riddled with torn holes, and there was not a single spot on his body that was not spilling blood.

Despite the devastation, the wizard dragged the corpse of a wolf—but the wolf was several times larger than the average desolate wolf, and looked terrifying.

The wizard approached, his face covered with blood, but the corners of his mouth raised the sweetest arc a child had ever seen, and said:

"Apprentice, the teacher will teach you today, dig out the wolf's heart haha... Ahem..."