"This is indeed a pity. The saddest thing in the world is to watch your home be destroyed and powerless. I hope you can be as strong as ever, stand in the light, and live as you want."

After a brief silence, Gilt, who was holding the dome hat, took the initiative to walk to the wizard, comforted him with a painful expression, then bowed slightly, stretched out his right hand, and introduced himself with a smile:

"Hello, Miss Cecil, meet me, I am the poet Gilter from the Falls, a real artist."

"Artist?" The witch did not reach out, but smiled slightly, greeted his clear eyes with a little bit of a stinky look on Gilter, who seemed to be a little stinky to Thorne, and looked at him with interest.

"That's right!" Seeing the other party's interest, Gilt nodded seriously, and then calmly said to her:

"Don't underestimate art. Art may not transcend the essence of the world, but it can beautify the world. Perhaps it is far less important than life, but if our lives do not have art, it will become very poor. It is like a dolphin fountain outside the window, always spewing out the splash of wisdom and joy..."

"Thank you, Master Jilt, for personally solving my doubts." The wizard reached out and shook Jilt, and said with a smile: "I am also honored to know you."

However, what Gilter did not expect was the moment when he contacted the witch's palm.

A biting cold and cold air instantly spread from his palm to his arms at an extremely fast speed. Suddenly, his entire arm seemed to be not his own and he lost consciousness.

If you roll up your sleeves, you will even see a thin layer of frost condensed.

The touch of cold?

Torne, who noticed something was wrong with Gilter, raised his eyebrows lightly and patted his shoulder.

An imperceptible light orange fire spread rapidly from his shoulder to his entire arm.

Gilter immediately felt the biting cold breath being dispelled by a warm air from Thorne's palm, and his entire arm regained consciousness with the faint mist rising up.

The poet shook his arm that regained consciousness and handed the Ranger a grateful look.

Thorne looked at the witch Cecil lightly, and her eyes shook her back so much that she shook her eyes and said unexpectedly: "I didn't expect you to choose to master the Necrotic School's spells."

In fact, when he shook hands with the other party just now, he also noticed the cold and cold air coming from his palm.

However, he has the fire-type moves and powerful flame resistance of the Mofeng Sect, so this kind of damage naturally seems insignificant to him. He thought it was just that the other party's physique was quite special.

Now through Gilter's reaction, he realized that this should be the "cold touch" in a spell.

Although any wizard can cast spells at will if he masters this spell.

But Thorne noticed that when the other party contacted Gilt, he did not chant the spell syllables, nor did he mobilize the magic that was wandering in the air. The spell she cast was more like an instinct.

It was as if her hand was subjected to a constant "cold touch" spell.

Thorne believes that the other party must have mastered some special spell talent or expertise after specializing in the Necrotic School of spells.

Spell talent and some extremely special spell feats are not something that their players can easily master through their own efforts.

These special abilities require arcane knowledge. Without a tutor to teach training skills, even scraps cannot be touched.

Just like the two specialties he learned through three years of practice, "Tornado Attack" and "Constrained in Attack".

The reason why he was able to master it successfully was mainly due to the instillation of all the knowledge and skills in his mind by the plane managers in the abandoned semi-plane of the Insighters.

Otherwise, even if he practiced continuously, his efficiency would be absolutely not as high as he thought.

After all, these two specialties can be said to be one of the most difficult specialties to learn among all ordinary specialties. If you don’t have any professional characteristics and want to master them, you can only achieve them like the indigenous people, relying on your own talents, perseverance and hard work.

Even so, he has not yet fully integrated another special feature "spell-like instant" obtained in the semi-plane.

This is why he directly chose the dual-held stream when he chose the Ranger genre, because the "dual weapon combat" expertise is even more difficult to master than these two expertise.

Therefore, Thorne suspected that the reason why this wizard who once lived in a small village in the Waste Skull Mountains was able to successfully become a wizard was definitely because there were guidance from experts behind him.

However, what surprised him was that as a woman, the other party actually chose the school of necromancers that was the most harmful to the body and chose to deal with negative energy, which he never expected.

"That's right." The wizard Cecil hesitated and nodded, "I am a disciple of Winster, the Astral Insighter."

"No wonder this is the case." Thorne's expression showed a sudden look.

"You are Winster's disciple!" Gilter beside him screamed in surprise and asked quickly:

"So, you have met Winster himself, so you must know that there is a legend about Winster's elves love circulating on the mainland."

The bard finished speaking in one breath and looked at the witch with anticipation.

The purpose of his visit to Shuangta Town was to find the truth of this legend. He always felt that behind this tragic love story from Shuguang Town was an unknown secret.

"It can be said that I have seen it or I can think that I have never seen it." Cecile was silent for a moment, nodded to him, and shook his head slightly.

Then, as if she had touched something, she sighed softly and said in a sad tone: "Winster, the star-world insight I have seen, is just an old man in his twilight years.

And in the legend of the elves that circulate in your poems, Winster is a mad lich. So, you may be disappointed because I don’t have the truth you want here.”

"That's so regretful." Gilter said regretfully.

"Master Gilt." Cecile looked at the disappointed poet, obviously not wanting to discuss too much on this topic, so he diverted his attention:

"I have heard your song in the tavern, and the most impressive thing is the song "Sad Myth", a paladin escorts the king's princess and eventually falls in love. This... you can think of the plot."

Thorne and Alvi, the female lord on the other side, obviously understood that the witch was referring to him and subconsciously looked at his wonderful facial expression.

Gilter looked obviously embarrassed, but his face was very unsightly, and instead he made a serious defense:

"Although this story is not my original work, the lyrics are translated by me, and I have specially polished it with the elves musical score, which has successfully turned it into a favorite ballad for noble ladies. Do you think you are the noble Lord of the Shuangta Town, Ms. Alvi, I think you must be very interested in the Paladin, and want him to climb..."

"Is it the darkness of the sewer that makes you unruly and shallow?" The female lord Alvi glared at him and smiled meaningfully: "If you talk to me like this, I will just slap you."

When Gilter heard this, he seemed to touch some memories. He grinned at her, then set a distance with Alvere, and kept silent honestly.

The witch beside Alvi looked at this scene and smiled lightly, her eyes flashed, as if she had remembered something, and suggested to Gilter kindly:

"Since you are so passionate about poetry creation, why not write a moving ballad about the Battle of Gods that determined the fate of our compatriots three years ago.

Let those who died bravely forever in the memory of the world, let them understand how noble it is to defend their homeland, understand that this free country is closely linked by loyalty and bloody battles, and make their final sacrifice a respectable end to life, and spread their legends all over the world with the songs..."

After hearing this, Thorne instantly understood what the other party wanted to express.

If Gilt could really create a poem about them fighting against the goblins in the Emerald Field and spread it all over the world, it might really attract many players to gather here continuously.

After all, what the Jade Field now lacks most is population, especially players who master the bug-level black technology of the system. If all players can really gather together, this is definitely a force that no force in the entire main material plane dares to underestimate.

But the problem is that the circulation of news in this world is very poor, and the fastest way is to say that the stories sung by the minstrels.

Unfortunately, those shoddy stories are destined to not be widely circulated. Only the masterpiece that he empathizes with when he hears them can sweep all over the world as fast as the storm.

Thinking of this, Thorne was a little moved, so he said to Gilt: "I think her proposal is very good. You can consider it. If it costs, I will support you with all my strength."

Although this guy was not serious all day long, since he heard the other party’s extremely plain love poem and successfully relaxed his mood, he realized that this Gilter, who had devoted all his energy to poetry, had definitely two tricks regardless of his own level.

Just like the other person often says: an artist must be sincere and naive before he can create, because art itself is sincere and naive. But people are generally too far away from these two qualities, so elegant art is far away from the lives of ordinary people than religion.

He also complained about the circle of poets in this world: Whoever is the most hypocritical is the most popular. Some people stare at money but don’t know anything about it. They are so fake all day long. There are also some so-called artists who only care about expressing themselves in the play and retaliating against others. What is the artist who doesn’t become an artist? They care about other people’s opinions all day long and get furious when criticized. What is the artist?

Upon hearing this, Gilter looked at the ranger beside him who didn't understand music in surprise. Obviously, he didn't expect that the other party would support him so much.

Then he praised the wizard Sesel, "I am worthy of being a smart wizard. Just like your beauty, you can actually think of this problem."

After saying that, Gilter looked at the three of them and said proudly: "Actually, this question was considered three years ago when the war in Quiet Forest ended, and I quickly put it into action.

As the saying goes, hard work pays off. After three years of hard work, I finally completed the creation of the high elves and named the song "Song of Dawn".

It is precisely because of the word "Dawn" that reminds me of the former name of Shuangta Town: Shuguang Town, that I became interested in tracing the truth."

Looking at the poet with a stinky face, for some reason, Thorne was actually looking forward to listening to the other party’s new song.

However, before he could speak, another wizard who was obviously more interested in poetry began to speak first, "Really? That's great. I wonder if Master Gilter would like to let the three of us listen in advance."

Everyone originally thought that the other party would hug their harp like a child showing off their toys, happily agreeing.

Who would have thought that even Thorne would not have expected that Gilter would refuse neatly.

"How could this kind of song that I have worked hard to create can be easily sang to you three? You must know that a great artist has his feelings belong to the times, not to the individual."

"Then what you mean is, let me set up a big stage for you in Shuangta Town and hold a concert for you." Looking at Jilt's expression of beating, the female lord Alvi said playfully.

"No need." Gilter waved his hand and continued, "Have you heard of the sacred oak tree 'Meru Robbs' on the edge of the Black Pearl Forest?

The glade in the woods beneath the sacred oak tree is called by the world: a place for travelers to rest, a home for wanderers, and a place for racial friendship.

This glade is famous for its neutrality, openness and tolerance. Although the druids in the emerald garden protect this holy tree, they happily welcome every visitor from any camp, even the murderous demons and evil depraved…”

"Since you don't want to, don't talk so much nonsense." Thorne stopped the other party from continuing, looked at Gilt, and smiled, "Then I'll look forward to your "Song of Dawn" spreading to the world one day."

The other party’s meaning is very clear, it is nothing more than singing under the sacred oak tree.

After all, travelers, merchants and other messy people from all over the world gather here every day to rest and spread under oak trees, which can naturally achieve twice the result with half the effort.

Although this guy looks unfair on the surface, he loves poetry but sets a principle for himself that he has never surpassed.

That is, whenever he creates a new poem, he will find the most suitable position to sing to the audience.

This location is as small as an ordinary house, under an unmanned tree, as large as the busiest taverns and hotels in Saiput City, and even as someone who runs to the execution ground as a psychopath.

As for the Holy Oak, he had never heard of it.

From this we can see how much importance Gilt attaches to this poem that he spent three years to create.

After Thorne finished speaking, he looked at the scorching sun outside the window. Before he knew it, the few people had been chatting for so long, and had not even talked about any of them.
Chapter completed!