"In the outside world our abilities are released by our own , but in the mysterious Place it is different. We need to use our spirit to activate them, but accordingly, an ability can only be used once during an expedition to the [Mysterious Place]."
After saying that, Barnard stretched out his rough hands and tremblingly held the golden bowl closest to him.
"I drank it?"
It was not clear if he was talking to Jenkins or the man in the black robes. A bean-sized bead of sweat slid down from the middle-aged man's temple and dripped clearly onto the front of his black cloak in front of Jenkins.
"Boy, if I die this time and you are lucky enough to leave here alive, go directly to the church of the [Lightless Moon] to inform them of my death. By the way, my full name is Wayne Sleipnin Barnard."
"Sir, we will all be alive."
Jenkins swallowed his saliva. Although it was not fate's decision to make now, he had to say something in this situation:
"Otherwise, I'd rather drink first. You have more experience than I do and can gain more information from my findings." Carefully, he pointed out that the probability of choosing one out of ten and one out of nine was not very different.
"Haha, boy, thank you. But I am not stingy enough to let a newbie explore the path for me."
The thought of killing the black-robed man never crossed the two's minds from the start, as the other was just sitting in front of them, and their momentum had paralyzed their hands and feet. The black-robed man did not even need to stretch out his fingers to kill them.
Without another word, Barnard wiped the fine beads of sweat from his forehead with his left hand, held the bowl with his right and drank it down.
Jenkins gasped for breath. He did not know whether it was because of the thin air in the unventilated room or because his heartbeat was too fast.
After a second, as if time had stood still, Barnard breathed a sigh of relief and set the golden bowl down in his hand. "Sir, are you all right?"
Although he knew he was next in line, Jenkins was still relieved for him.
Barnard turned his head stiffly, a dry smile appearing on his stubbly face, then pointed to his neck and waved his hand - he remained silent.
Since there was no longer a mirror, Jenkins could not see his expression at the moment. But he finally knew that he opened his mouth and his face must be very pale.
He licked his chapped lips and reached into his arms. After a while, he pulled out a few stacked newspapers and then took a worn fountain pen out of his right pocket.
The former he had brought from home, and he wanted to tear it up and throw it into someone else's garden. The latter was a gift from old Williamette to Jenkins when he thought he was salvageable. Although the original owner of Jenkins' body hated studying, he treasured his family, and so he treasured this pen.
Barnard immediately understood what Jenkins meant. He took paper and pen, but did not dare use the table. He simply wrote on the palm of his hand:
"It's all right, it's just a common curse. If we go out, there are special people in the church who can help me."
That may be the only good news Jenkins has heard so far. But since it's a curse and not an injury, his healing ability may not be of any use.
It should be his turn next, and Barnard sat to the side without pushing him.
The black-robed man across from him meant that they would probably both drink, and even if Barnard drank another bowl, it would probably be useless.
Jenkins' chest rose and fell violently, all sorts of scenes running through his mind, and less than an hour into the crossing. Is it a blessing? Is it a disaster? No one knows.
He lifted his head and tried to see the figure under the black hood opposite him, but the hood swallowed the light of the candle like a black hole.
After looking for a long time, Jenkins seemed to have a slight tinnitus. He looked at the remaining nine golden bowls on the dirty round dining table, "Mr. Barnard, my full name is Jenkins Redanput Williamette, I live at 7 Privet Drive, Pennside." After saying that, he stood up regardless of the middle-aged man's reaction, took the golden bowl closest to the black-robed man and drank it straight. The heart pumped plasma at maximum force, and the fast flowing blood made Jenkins' head turn red. The cold limbs did not even let him feel the strange touch in his hands. When the liquid first touched his lips, there was no taste, and then Jenkins felt his hand uncontrollably push all the liquid into his mouth. Now he knew where Barnard's feat earlier had come from. When all the liquid had disappeared into his mouth, he put the bowl back on the table with a blank stare and sat back down. "What should I do now?" He asked himself in his heart, and then he suddenly realized that he had survived. The man at his side immediately pushed the newspaper over with the words: "How are you?"
"Not bad, it's like, no, I really only drank half a bowl of water."
At that moment, he remembered that his body now believed in the [Inheritance Wise], which symbolized the tenth month of each year. The duties of this righteous god include knowledge, books, secrets, exploration, inheritance, etc.
Although old Williamette used to be just a small businessman, he firmly believed that knowledge changes destiny, and so Williamette's family believed in this god.
"May [the Sage of Inheritance] bless you, and your fame will light the way to the future for mankind"
He sang softly in his heart.
The normal prayer process should also include a series of corresponding gestures, but Jenkins' original body, which was not very firm, had a very vague impression of it. The two drank a bowl each, but nothing changed. The man in the black robe was still sitting there, completely invisible.
"Can we go now?" Jenkins did nothing, but asked the experienced Mr. Barnard again.
The man also looked a little confused. He could not speak and only signaled to Jenkins with gestures that he should not move and then tried to get up.
Of course, nothing happened when Jenkins stood up to take the golden bowl, but at that moment Barnard seemed to be pressed down by a hundred-pound weight and fell heavily back onto the wooden post.
With a slight cracking sound, a crack immediately appeared on one side of the wooden post. Jenkins was now very concerned about Mr. Barnard's rear end.
"Are you all right?"
He asked, then realized this was a stupid question.
Barnard, his face was red with pain, gritted his teeth and shook his head.