"Going by myself..." Copusti repeated in horror, fully realizing how terrible it is for the dead to wake up.

His legs were trembling, and he said to himself: "But, but, I didn't use the resurrection ceremony on him."

Klein turned around, stared at him for a few seconds and said, "Death is not the end."

"Death is not the end...Death is not the end..." Kapusti was frightened by the idea he believed in, and blurted out, "He, will he come back?"

Well, the courier summoned by the copper whistle most likely corresponds to the old gentleman, that is to say, giving the note to the courier is equivalent to sending a letter to the old gentleman, to a person who has been dead for almost half a year ...Heh, I don't know where he is now, what state he is in... Regarding Kapusti's question, Klein lightly pointed out: "Don't blow that copper whistle again."

"You mean the copper whistle will attract him back?" Copusti asked in horror.

Before Klein could answer, he asked himself again: "You, can you help me throw this copper whistle into the Tussock River?"

"If not, then, then I will go by myself."

Weren't you very interested in death and the corresponding philosophy? Klein cursed, and reached out to take the copper whistle that belonged to Kapusti.

He planned to try to send a letter to the dead under the right conditions to see what would happen.

Of course, the premise of all this is that he is sure that there is not much danger.

After ordering Kapusti to re-bury the tomb, Klein exchanged with him for a while about "spirit dance" and the corresponding mystical knowledge, which enriched his knowledge, and asked clearly about the old gentleman who Kapusti buried. At that time, according to the will of the other party, let the corpse lie face down.

In some special cases, it would be more effective and easier to use the "spirit dance" to replace part of the tedious arrangement of ritual magic... Seeing that the goal was achieved, Klein warned Copusti again, telling him not to play around with the so-called Ritual of Resurrection.

Then, he left the street from the garden and traveled a long way around in a carriage to the East End.

After changing into the previous clothes, he returned to Minsk Street, entered the bedroom, and after a series of operations, brought the three white feathers and Kapusti's copper whistle above the gray mist.

Sitting in the high-backed chair that belonged to the Fool, Klein took out a pen and paper, and wrote down the divination sentence he had thought of long ago: "Its origin."

Immediately afterwards, he held the three white feathers and leaned back on the chair.

While meditating, Klein entered the dreamland, surrounded by misty, gray and white.

In this kind of world, there is a thick and dull darkness. Suddenly, the darkness is dyed crimson, and a pale hand protrudes out of the yellow-brown soil.

A figure slowly got up, he didn't lift the stone slab to stir up the soil, but just penetrated out like that.

Under the crimson moonlight, the clothes on the back of this figure were tattered, and white feathers grew out one by one.

The gray-haired figure turned his head slightly, revealing the obvious red spots on his face, as well as his dull, blank, emotionless eyes.

It took a step, penetrated the fence with difficulty, and walked towards the depths of the blackness, going farther and farther until it disappeared.

The dream was shattered, and Klein woke up.

White feathers really grew from the back of the corpse... Its state is very similar to that of Miss Sharon, but there are obvious differences, giving people a very heavy, substantial and not illusory feeling... It seems that it can be in the human body and spirit body. Intermittent natural incomplete transformation? A messenger that communicates between the real world and the spirit world? Klein reached out and tapped the edge of the long table, thinking for a while.

Immediately afterwards, he divination whether it is dangerous to send letters with Copusti's copper whistle, and he got a positive answer, and the pendulum rotated greatly and at a very fast speed.

"It's a pity, you can't use the copper whistle directly on the gray fog, and the messenger can't get in at all, otherwise there would be no danger..." Klein said to himself, fell into the gray fog, and returned to the real world.

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In the early morning, in the relatively fresh woods in Queens.

With a round face, the pharmacist in his thirties appeared in a secluded corner, and put the secret planted herbs into the skin bag he carried with him. JrNovels.com