Chapter 175 Red Maple Leaf Boarding School (20) "I will be resurrected in two hundred years"
There are many graves in the cemetery, and the bones of aboriginal children are buried there.
After outsiders landed on the new land, they burned the remains of the original tribe with fire. The iron tools inscribed with sacrificial inscriptions were burned into molten gold, and the history of the aborigines recorded by generations of prophets was also destroyed.
The outsiders who won the war occupied the indigenous lands, plundered gold and silver, and promulgated harsh laws that prohibited the indigenous people from believing in their own gods and using their own words.
Children were locked up in boarding schools to learn the language of the invading alien race. From then on, everyone lost their names, leaving only a cold number——
The same goes for 47.
Under the torture day after day, he forgot many things, but he only remembered that when he was young, his mother held his hand and wrote a line of words on the sand with a wooden stick, like insects and snakes. .
In the dead of night, he traced the strokes of those words over and over in his mind, and wrote the forbidden glyphs on the collected pieces of paper behind his teacher's back.
The god that the tribe once believed in was deemed an "evil god" and even mentioning it was taboo. But he quietly used a red pen to outline scarlet eyes on the paper, and prayed for a long time for His gaze.
His parents who died in the war taught him to draw Him countless times, and he also drew Him countless times. When he closed his eyes, he could see the outline of that eye in the dark.
Those are the eyes of the "evil god" and the totem of his tribe.
After all faith was banned and people gave up their gods out of fear, he became the evil god's only believer in the world.
He held rituals devoutly, praying for the evil god’s attention and blessing.
The teachers soon discovered his secret behavior, angrily accused him of trying to bring disaster and death, and maliciously announced to all the children: "47 is the incarnation of the evil devil in the world. They should rot in the soil forever, with the company of stinking corpses.”
There was a sense of joy in their tone when they said this, as if they had finally caught a model to scare other children, and they could warn and harm others. Threatening others not to do the same again.
47 was punished as a matter of course.
The teachers tried various methods, including beatings, electric shocks and lobotomy. All the methods that could be thought of at the time to correct the "bad boy" were applied to the only bad boy.
But no matter what they do, 47 will always continue to carve words and totems everywhere they can touch after recovering.
That kind of behavior does not seem to be out of ignorant hobbies, but more like a deliberate resistance and provocation. The teachers felt that their authority had been challenged, and their methods began to become more severe.
They tied 47 to the iron frame and moved the iron frame to the dark iron house. But no matter whether they use hemp rope or iron chains, 47 will miraculously escape every time, and he will remain expressionless as always, calmly and focusedly writing in the room where he is detained.
At first, he used charcoal that was hidden somewhere. After the teachers searched him, he dipped his fingers in mud and smeared it on the wall. After the mud was removed, he dug into the hard wall with his nails and carved deeply words that the teachers could not understand.
This is beyond the scope of what humans can do. It is more like being driven by some kind of force that the world cannot understand. It is described by the knowledge within the cognitive scope of teachers. It can be called "demon possession". body".
The teachers agreed that 47 should be crucified, just as real devils were treated in the Middle Ages.
In fact, they also did this, but often the day before they penetrated 47’s limbs with iron nails and erected the cross on the back hill; in the early morning of the next day, 47 would appear again as if nothing had happened. The school is like a vengeful ghost from an old horror story.
The ghost's limbs are covered with bloody holes left by nails, some of which have scabs, and some are still bleeding downwards.
He would sometimes use rainwater to clean dirty wounds, and bright red blood drops would drip on the ground, making shallow pits, and small flowers like eyes would bloom after the rain.
A teacher once witnessed the whole process of 47 coming down from the cross late at night.
The boy was leaning relaxedly against the wooden frame covered with sharp wooden thorns, his expression showing a kind of unconscious calm, which is reminiscent of the statues of gods enshrined in the church. He raised his head slightly and looked up at the sky, his lips trembling and he didn't know what he was saying.
The nails that fixed him were pulled out by a pair of invisible hands and thrown into a pool of blood. He stepped on the steps made of empty air and stepped firmly on the wet ground.
The strange scene spread in the school, and the teachers gradually realized that this might be a kind of witchcraft that they could not understand; or in other words - the child numbered "47" was really affected God's favor.
They tried to ignore 47 and allowed this strange child to write and draw in various places where they could see it, and were always ready to use cement to smooth the words and drawings on the wall.
But scratches always grow faster than cement repairs. When densely packed characters and bloody eyes crawled up their desks and beds like moss, they still felt a sense of fear, as if The specter of the race that represents the aboriginal people is floating above each of them.
They also thought about giving up on those words, but Mr. Tolson insisted on the concept that "if you want to exterminate a nation, you must first destroy its history and language" and demanded that they must completely destroy the backward culture of the indigenous people. wipe out.
They could only report all the strange situations related to 47 to Mr. Tolson, but this old gentleman who believed in science scolded them: "Since you can't kill him, then go kill him. My companions, I don’t believe that all of them can do that damn witchcraft!”
The teachers were inspired, and whenever 47 made a weird move that was not in line with their knowledge, they would use the most cruel methods! Means to punish a child and tell him that everything is 47's fault.
"As pagans who once believed in evil gods, you were born with dirty and sinful blood, and you are destined to be unable to bathe in the gaze of gods. And 47 is the worst child among you, trying to summon the terrifying evil gods to hinder your process of atonement. . ”
That’s what the teachers said.
The children also began to hate 47, as if he was the source of all misfortune, suffering and pain. They spat and threw stones at 47 one by one to show the teachers their determination to draw a clear line with the evil god.
47 has never made a sound, silently bearing all the malice with his eyes lowered, like a clay statue. And those children and teachers who spoke harshly to him would always be hurt unintentionally and in incredible ways.
A teacher encouraged a child to stab 47's heart with a knife. The child was found dead in the dormitory the next day, with a knife pierced through the chest and nailed to the wall.
Fear and hatred spread among the students, but 47 seemed to have no idea what was happening. He was still squatting in the corner, not eating, drinking, or sleeping, painting the walls with his eyes full.
The teachers now realized that 47’s enthusiasm for the “evil god” had surpassed their love for their own kind, and all of them were powerless against him...
June 1, 1869 , Mr. Tolson announced that a "good boy" would be baptized in the church.
He clicked on a list of numbers. The teachers were surprised at first but soon understood that "47" was also on the list.
Mr. Tolson never believed in witchcraft that could not be solved by science, while Mr. Barron racked his brains to decipher the mysteries of witchcraft. The two reached consensus on certain things.
The children got on the truck, but instead of going to church, they were sent to a windowless iron house.
They were driven into the public bathroom, the door was closed from the outside, and a stupefying drug was blown into the room through the exhaust pipe, and they lost consciousness for a few seconds.
What followed was a series of blood collection and injections that were not allowed by public order and good customs...
...
In the cemetery, crosses stained with brown blood stood tall. The ground stands tall, with a square of short tombs piled up close to each other underneath. The crooked stone tablets are engraved with numbers that are almost worn away by time. They are messy and irregular.
Qisi lowered his head and counted the numbers, feeling that something was missing in the scene.
Eyes...the whole school should be filled with eyes...
He thought like this and wondered about his own thoughts: Why did he think there should be eyes in the school? What about patterns?
After walking among the tombs for a while, Qisi felt a little dizzy. He raised his hand and touched his forehead, and sure enough he felt it was hot.
He has a fever.
The effects of insomnia are still taking place, and are getting more and more serious as time goes by. In a few days, he will probably have difficulty even walking, let alone exploring the main mission. He must leave here as soon as possible and go to another space before he can continue with his next plan.
Qisi remembered something and took out a white paper from his backpack.
A lot of words have been written on the back of the white paper.
Part of it is identifiable and records the story of a child named "47"; the other part has unfamiliar glyphs and various strange strokes crawling around, like ghostly symbols.
Ziss guessed that he had seen aboriginal writing at a certain time and thought it was an important clue, so he copied it.
But he had no impression of it.
The amnesia is very serious, and the pattern of memory loss cannot be found for the time being.
Qisi took out all the writing papers and reviewed them from beginning to end.
He lowered his head inadvertently and caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. He saw that the dark mud was covered with strange symbols, which were the same as those copied on white paper.
Then he realized that the ghostly drawings on the white paper were extracted from the soles of his feet.
"Do these words have any meaning? Or... are they implying something?"
The words on the ground were arranged with great momentum, wishing they could break into Qiss's body at the first moment. Even if you don't recognize the meaning of any word, you will feel a shock simply from the quantity.
Qisi was so noisy that he felt dizzy for a while. He decisively looked away and continued to study the number on the tombstone.
He groped all the way and found the tombstone numbered "47", and squatted down holding on to the cold stone bricks.
There was no grave behind the tombstone, only an empty coffin lying in the pit. The bottom of the coffin was engraved with a line of words that did not belong to any language in the world, but Qiss surprisingly understood it——
[I will be resurrected in two hundred years]
The coffin is like this explain.
"Is it such an obvious reminder? Lie down now and wait two hundred years to fake the corpse?" Zeiss made a joke out of a sense of humor that only he could understand.
The warm wind rising from the ground brought bursts of bloody smell, and bright red blood beads dripped from the cross, blooming into eyes-shaped flowers the moment they landed.
The scene in front of him suddenly became consistent with his imagination. Qisi felt that he had learned something, but he could not remember anything.
Songs whose meanings are difficult to distinguish rise and fall in the ears, and colorful figures come and go in front of the eyes, and then fly into shapeless blocks of color, diluting the brain's ability to process information.
He stretched out his finger and poked the bottom of the coffin, and found that it was surprisingly clean, with no dust to be touched.
The safest way may be to let the tool man lie down and try it first, but it is undeniable that there are very few people he can dispatch at present. To be precise, there is only one Zhang Yiyu.
And Zhang Yiyu still has great uses...
As for the coffin, it’s not like I’ve never laid in it before, and it’s familiar the second time.
Qisi tilted his head and thought for a while, then took out the Poseidon scepter from the item list and thrust the tip of the halberd into the coffin lid.
After the metal and wood collided, there was a crisp sound, and there were not even new scratches on the dark wooden cover.
"It's quite strong and can effectively prevent corpse fraud." Qi Siwu smiled to himself, stepped into the coffin, and slowly lay down.
The narrow space reminded him of the employee dormitory of the black factory where he lived many years ago. But compared to then, the situation was better, at least now there was no fishy smell that made him nauseous.
Well, lie down in the coffin, create an alibi and at the same time give instructions to Zhang Yiyu remotely, and then throw out some false clues... perfect!
Chisi was thinking happily, while struggling to lift the lid next to the coffin and pull it onto the coffin box.
After lying down, he tentatively pushed the coffin lid and found that with his strength, he could still push it open.
Safe and secure.
In the silence, the soul blade in the prop column suddenly trembled crazily.
Qisi reached out to touch Ye Jian and heard Zhang Yiyu's anxious voice: "Boss, Jiang Junjue seems to have noticed that I lied and asked me to confess and be lenient... What should I do?"
Qisi Lying back, I felt a little sleepy, and my voice became nasal: "Tell him that you are a witch, and the side task is to kill the 'philanthropist', but you don't know who the 'philanthropist' is."
< br>"Ah? Is it okay if I expose myself so quickly?...Also, what's the situation with the 'philanthropist'?"
"I promised to let you leave alive, even if it's just to not be ruled by the rules. Sanction, I will do my best to complete the contract. Since you choose to trust me, then follow all my arrangements."
"Uh, but why?"
Zisi continued talking to himself: "If I don't show up in the classroom before ten o'clock, you should find an opportunity to come to the cemetery to the east as soon as possible and open the coffin behind tombstone No. 47."
He closed the coffin. Pull it up and close it inch by inch. When the last word is said, the last ray of light is also blocked.
He is immersed in the silence and will fall into a sleepless sleep.
The time in the darkness became immeasurable, and there was a vague conversation between a man and a woman, and the sound of shovels filling the soil came and went, indicating that a burial alive had occurred.
Similar scenes triggered memories, and Qisi’s thoughts drifted back to the pit where he was sixteen years old, the cold soil poured on his face, the lingering muddy smell...
< br>
He should have died at that time, but surprisingly climbed out of hell - his vitality has been amazingly tenacious since he was a child.
Thinking about it now, maybe he was already a lonely ghost walking in the world at that time, destined to cause harm for thousands of years...
I don’t know how long it took, and the distance gradually faded. With new vocals.
First came a deep male voice: "I have learned spiritualism from the vice-president. I wonder if I can summon the ghosts of the aboriginal people and ask them to read a paragraph for us."
< br>The other voice was very cold: "Well, you can try it."
"Hey, Brother Chang, don't believe it. I would rather believe that this technique exists than believe that it doesn't exist..."
"Oh."
Two voices sounded one after another, One of them is very familiar.
Qisi listened for a while, raised his hands to cover his face, and laughed silently.
Thanks to Qi Zhining for the reward of 800 points in total, and thank you for your support!
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(End of this chapter)