Mystery: The Stars Returner

The bar is very large and spacious, and the overall style leans towards steel and tough guys. Most of the people who come here to drink are working-class people, and it is rare to see anyone dressed as an aristocrat.

Leonard came to the bar and asked the waiter if he had any recommended wine.

He also just came to Backlund and didn't know much about this big city. In order not to show his timidity, he ordered two types of wine recommended by the waiter, and then only ordered Southwell beer.

Instead of drinking slowly in small sips, he prefers to drink in large gulps. Only by drinking half a glass or a full glass at a time can his melancholy thoughts be relieved.

What the old man said just now really scared him.

When you look up, you can see the stars. If the mysterious existence really sees that he is pretending to be a believer in the stars, will he directly drop a meteor and kill him?

Should I go to a relatively deserted place and wait to die quietly?

Otherwise, it would be bad if the meteor fell into the world and affected innocent lives. He is not so selfish that he must drag others to die with him.

Should I take advantage of this time to write more poems?

Even if I am no longer alive in the future, I can still leave behind a few poems that can be sung by bards.

In the poem, you should deliberately describe your appearance and talents, and then write about your legendary experience of being killed by a meteor.

Sure enough, for people like me, even if they die, they must die vigorously.

Half an hour passed before Leonard came out of that sentimental mood. This was one of the negative effects of using sealed objects.

Amplifying your negative emotions is not suitable for use when you have death intentions, otherwise you will not be able to resist the desire to commit suicide.

The chill in his body was gradually dissipated due to drinking, and his almost frozen body finally began to warm up. This was also one of the negative effects.

There is also a negative effect. Walking around is easy to encounter incredible events, which last for twenty-four hours.

Incredible events are not necessarily bad things, but most of the sealed artifact holders died tragically due to encountering extremely horrific and unexplainable phenomena.

That's why when he teleported to this area, he didn't dare to go back to the church directly. Instead, he chose this nearby bar as a temporary residence.

As long as the bar didn't turn away customers, he was prepared to stay here until dawn tomorrow.

Leonard tapped the five fingers of his right hand rhythmically in front of the bar. He held the handle of the wine glass with his left hand and took a sip of beer from time to time, looking at the faces of the people in the bar one by one.

He glanced around, looked away, and began to compose new poems in his mind.

Compared to the role of Nightmare, he preferred the previous Midnight Poet. At first, he felt that the Midnight Poet was so compatible with him, so he chose this extraordinary path.

He, Leonard Mitchell, was born a poet, a great romantic poet.

"Have a glass of blue love."

While Leonard was thinking a lot, a voice from the side attracted his attention.

His eyes followed the direction of the sound. At first glance, he felt amazed, then unwilling, and finally sighed, feeling ashamed of himself.

In terms of appearance and temperament, he has always been very confident. If he wanted to, he could be on the cover of those magazines at any time.

As for the overall temperament, it goes without saying that he rarely takes care of his hair, looks messy and unruly, and has a unique sense of beauty. His eyes are slightly confused and can see through the world but pretend to be unrestrained, which makes him look very vicissitudes of life. feel.

This is how he evaluates himself: Leonard Mitchell is the protagonist in the sung poem. He is the poem itself. To be close to him is to embrace the poem.

But the man who appeared in front of him had blond hair dyed like the sun, a well-proportioned and strong figure, and no faulty features. He always maintained a light smile on his face, giving people a very gentle and elegant feeling.

Maybe he had been staring at someone else for a long time. That person came over in his direction, sat down near him, and said with a smile: "Friend, is this your first time here?"

Leonard retracted his gaze, picked up the wine glass and said with a smile, "Am I making it obvious?"

"Sort of. I'm a regular at this bar. Whether I'm a stranger or a regular customer, I can tell with just one glance."

"So that's it. This is indeed my first time here. It's a very nice bar."

"This is a paradise for the brave."

"That's why I chose this bar."

When Leonard saw that the visitor had extraordinary conversational skills, was gentle and elegant, and was young, he gradually let down his guard and began to chat casually.

After chatting with each other, we actually found it very interesting. When I learned that the other person also specialized in poetry, I finally couldn't help but ask for the other person's name.

Hastur Campbell is really a good name, as mysterious and elegant as his person.

"The love poems written by Emperor Russell are very good, especially the one "When You Get Old". The poems are concise, affectionate, and full of romantic feelings."

Leonard's words were a bit more admiring for Emperor Russell. In his opinion, the combined talents of later poets could not compare to one Emperor Russell.

Even though he is very confident, he still knows that he is still far from the level of Emperor Russell.

Hastur said with a smile: "Emperor Russell is indeed a great poet. He can write both love poems and narrative poems very well. It's a pity that he can't concentrate on being a poet. For a poet full of romantic colors, It is very incompetent.”

Leonard's eyes lit up slightly, these words spoke to his heart.

He also felt that Emperor Russell became unprofessional in his later years and went so far as to become the governor of the Republic of Intis. He wasted his limited time on such boring things, which was a great waste of his talents.

In terms of ethics as a qualified poet, he felt that he was much better than Emperor Russell.

"For a long poem, this is a shortcoming, but for a long history, it is an inevitable necessity of the times."

"After all, Emperor Russell not only displayed his talents in poetry, but also made extraordinary achievements in the field of science and technology, and single-handedly started the industrial age."

"The only thing that is more regrettable is that he does not seem to be very disciplined in the relationship between men and women, although this has always been the traditional culture of the Republic of Intis."

Leonard listened to the other party's conversation and couldn't help but ask: "You seem to know the life of Emperor Russell very well?"

"I am committed to studying the history and culture of Emperor Russell's period, and I do have a deep understanding of this great figure who ushered in a new era."

Leonard nodded and continued to chat with the other party. This time their topic turned from Russell to poetry creation.

Leonard is still very confident in this aspect.

Poets who write better poems than him are not as handsome as him. People who are younger and more handsome than him are not as good at writing poems as him.

With a smile on his face, Hasta shook his head and said, "I'm not very good at poetry."

"Writing poetry requires spirituality, freedom, and freedom from restraint. Anyone can try it."

Leonard encouraged the other person to write a poem and then tossed out his own poem.

There was no other way. When he met someone who couldn't defeat him in terms of appearance, he wanted to try to win back a round through poetry writing.

"Can I hear your poetry first?"

Hastur could not think of a suitable poem for the time being.

He does have a lot of beautiful poems in his mind, but who knows if Russell might have gotten there first.

Wouldn't it be embarrassing if they collided with each other? Let's let Leonard show off his talent first.

"Ok."

Leonard didn't force it, and thought about the second best poem he had written, so that even if he made a fool of himself, he would have a better backup.

"Flying swallows fly across the vast land, tourists are walking along the Rhine River, the cafes on the left bank are still steaming with heat, but you can no longer find the direction to return to your hometown. The riding crop that swipes at the horses loses its hunting ground, and the horse guarding outside the house A hunting dog cannot wait to return to its master..."

Leonard slightly opened the collar of his coat, held a glass of Southwell beer, raised his head slightly and began to sing softly.

His romantic voice was filled with deep sadness, as if he was letting go or reminiscing about something.

The originally playful sounds in the bar have decreased a lot, and everyone is paying attention.

Being noticed by the crowd, Leonard drank a glass of Southwell beer in one gulp and slammed the empty wooden cup on the table with a bang, and his voice became high and aggressive.

When Leonard finished singing, there was applause and cheers from all around.

Several other guests ordered more than a dozen glasses of beer for Leonard. Leonard refused to refuse anyone who came, drank another full glass, and began to sing another of his poetry works.

After singing three poems in succession, Leonard held the wine glass in one hand, bent slightly, and greeted the drinkers in front of him.

Hasta also clapped along. Leonard's poetry level and good voice, in every aspect, surpassed Alger's broken voice and talentless poetry talent.

"It's really fun!"

Leonard took another sip of Southwell beer. His face was slightly red and he was in a high mood. He obviously had a great time drinking tonight.

"Hasta, where are your poems?"

Leonard, who gradually regained his mood, looked at Hastur. Although he did not think that the other party could write a better poem than himself, he was still interested in listening to it.

Hastur brewed for a while and chanted softly: "

The meandering Tasok River

The black horse that flies away in the dust

White lightning that flashes and disappears;

in a hurry

Running wildly

Where are you going if you can't turn back?

You actually ran headlong into a desolate tomb

Waiting for a miracle in sleep

The plump flesh spans the decaying bones

The girl holding flowers in her hands

Who are you waiting for to arrive..."

His voice was very soft, as if he was sighing with emotion or feeling regretful.