My Thirteenth Journey

In the dim stone room, the old hand held a gorgeous quill and sketched out a perfect cursive calligraphy on a piece of slightly dim parchment. "A lot of people think it's a blessing, but I'd rather call it a curse." As soon as the writing stopped, the old man sighed deeply. The eyes revealed from under the lowered hood were full of helplessness, sadness, and endless regret. "My high self-esteem has brought disaster to me. I was not capable of picking up this book. It was my cunning that brought about this unsightly consequence." "Is it my greed? Or is it the will of this book? There is something constantly urging me to do things I don't want to do." "Prophecies thirst for blood and death, and endless killings. Even if I hide in the deepest part of Huishuang Mountain, this book still asks me to give up my life continuously so that I can make the next prophecy." The old man's eyes had become blurred. In the darkness behind him, a light red light lit up, seeming to bewitch the old man's will. "I know! Give me a few minutes... I just have to write this down!" The old man almost exhausted all his strength and roared angrily. The angry and old voice echoed in the dark stone chamber, and the red light in the darkness finally slowly disappeared. His voice echoed in the stone chamber. The exhausted old man gasped for air and tried his best to stabilize his consciousness. The old hands were trembling, and the words he wrote were no longer as perfect as before. Just one ending...