Compared with the spacious and empty first-floor classrooms, the space on the second floor is much smaller, and the decoration and space are more divided, looking like a reception room in a private club.

It's just that there are no waiters in this reception room, and there are no bartenders.

There are hideous specimens of various magical creatures scattered around the room, such as the Tangula Ice Cockroach, the Welsh Green Dragon, the Minotaur in armor, the unicorn in the saddle, the feet of the dwarves, the eyes of giants, the dust of the mane of a centaur, and the crafts made of fish-man scales.

Many of these ornaments are still 'alive'.

Nikita could clearly hear the wails coming from the depths of the ornaments' bodies. The pain was like a rich spice that enriched the lich's dried-up mood.

Sir Ulrich led the guests deeper into the reception room.

Like a catfish falling into a lifeless sardine box, the freshness of the strangers attracts the attention of many old lichs in the reception room.

They turned their necks slowly, a little red glowing in the depths of their dark eyes, and a clicking sound between the bones like rusty machines restarting, gears lacking lubrication.

Nikita lowered her head, held her breath, and followed the captain silently through the tables.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the bowl in the hand of an old lich—a pale skull bowl filled with a bright red liquid, hot and bubbling, the old lich's hands like skinned chicken feet, thin, white, and covered with horrible scars.

The banshee swallowed quietly, withdrew her gaze, and stared at the captain's heels, not daring to make the slightest move. The combination of the sorcerer's rationality and the demonic impulses has created a group of crazy lichs, and the older the lich, the worse the ability to control emotions, and only by becoming a great lich and using the power of the law to restrain that madness can he maintain his sanity in a corrupt age.

And these 'elders' who have stayed on the second floor of the mage tower all the year round are all old lichs with very high mana, but not strong enough, and they are still very old. Usually rarely deal with downstairs.

The young banshee was very skeptical that these crazy old lichs on the second floor would cut off her head because she had taken her left foot first while walking.

At the end of the reception room was a pitch-black wall with rows of shriveled heads. There were the heads of the husbands with four antlers, the Gorgons with their snakeheads, and the three heads of Cerberus, and three dogheads, each with a bloody mouth, and a withered viper coiled between their hairs.

Of course, the most of those 'ornaments' are the wizard's head.

Old wizards, young wizards, male wizards, witches, wizards with pointed hats, wizards with totems painted on bald heads, wizards with beards hanging down to the floor, wizards with half human faces and half bear faces, and so on.

In front of the black wall, there is a small altar.

The pedestal, which is divided into three tiers and is in the shape of a pyramid, is crudely decorated, with several stone pillars, sculptures that seem to have been smashed out of stone tools, and a few dirty cloth bands. On the pedestal, there is a bronze tripod with three legs and two ears.

There is no lid on the ding, there is fire under the ding, and the sound of bubbling water comes from the ding, as if someone is making tea.

"Didn't you always want to know about the lich's reverence for the True Ancestor?"

"Now you can see it. ”

As he spoke, Sir Ulrich leaned down and bowed before the altar, then took a piece of dry bacon from his pocket and threw it at the bronze tripod on the altar. Dingkou was like a monster with a big mouth open, swallowing the sacrifice of the old lich in one gulp.

There was a gurgling sound in the ding, as if the monster was burping after eating, and it was like the sound of the monster's stomach digesting.

"May the True Ancestor bless. ”

Sir Ulrich folded his hands and reverently reverently recited a word, then stood up, got out of the way, and looked out of the audience.

"May the True Ancestor bless!"

"True Ancestor bless!"

The old lichs, who had been sitting in their respective places drinking 'tea' in a daze, were forced to stand up and follow Sir Ulrich's sacrifice to send their blessings.

At the same time, they took out a little sacrifice from their side and threw it at the bronze tripod—a better one, similar to Sir Ulrich, a piece of blackened bacon, a little worse, a few bones with shredded flesh, and a few more excessively old lichs who threw worms at the True Ancestor.

Nikita could see very clearly, it was the kind of worm with hard shells and sour flesh!

When she was dying of starvation in the Sahara Desert, she couldn't eat that kind of bug!

Sir Ulrich turned around and spread his hands at the Captain of the Mist:

"The lich's reverence for the True Ancestor has reached this age, and that's pretty much it. ”

The old lich's tone was somewhat innocent, but the wrinkled old face was filled with a smile called mockery: "...... Many wizards have been forced to fall, and have never had the privilege of confronting the power of the True Ancestors. So we offered Him a sacrifice, and He gave us a little psychological comfort...... Young lichs need more psychological comfort and may have a more generous sacrifice, while older ones don't need much comfort when they see it...... So that's all there is to the sacrifice. ”

"Very fair trade. Don't talk about faith, talk about eating and drinking, everyone is still a good demon. ”

Captain Mist's gaze fell on the black wall.

"Very nice collection. It complimented sincerely, "Especially the little wizard's head...... As soon as I went upstairs, I could feel the indomitable soul in his skull, shining like a beacon in a storm. ”

Sir Ulrich replied meaningfully: "The younger the soul, the more intense the impulse, like a piece of crisp hard candy." The old soul is like kraft candy because of decay, although the taste is strong, it is easy to be manipulated by people, and it tastes sticky to the teeth. ”

Call!

The door at the entrance to the second floor was opened again.

A small group of young lichs swam in, starting with a banshee with closed eyes, the lich's 'work' mark on her eyebrows, and a wide cloak draped over her body. He was followed by a muscular banshee, with his head hidden under his hood and a little girl in his arms, with only two calves exposed, shivering outside his cloak.

After the banshee, there are several figures, tall and thin, or low, or slender, the only thing they have in common is that they all have their heads bowed and their heads hidden under their hoods, as if they are full of awe of this unknown world.

With the breeze passing through the hall, Nikita faintly heard the banshee ask in a nice voice who the old lich with the bowl of skull blood at the entrance was, who Sir Ulrich was.

As Nikita thought, the old lichs were all bad-tempered.

The old lich angrily refused the banshee's inquiry.

Then its head was smashed.