Chapter 352

Deveraux raised his eyebrows slightly, with a playful smile on his lips.

"So cooperative?"

He tapped the armrest of the chair lightly, staring sharply at the golden face in the glass cover.

Mohammed's expression was still cold and hard, his voice was low and calm, as if he was stating an insignificant fact.

"You are dying soon, just ask if you want to ask."

Deveraux sneered, folded his hands, leaned forward slightly, and spoke in a brisk tone with a hint of sharpness.

"Okay, then tell me first, why did you make such a big scene?"

He paused, and a hint of sarcasm flashed in his eyes.

"Just to kill the Minister of Magic? Or did you get rid of me by the way? Is there such a big grudge between us? Is it my mother who owes you money?"

At the end, he sneered, his eyes slightly focused, as if he was thinking about something, and then added slowly.

"Let me guess... You made such a big noise, isn't it to make your 'Lord' come?"

The golden face in the glass cover trembled slightly, and then, the hard corners of his mouth curled up a sneer.

"Such a big scene? The Minister of Magic is not worthy of the Lord's attention at all."

Mohammed's voice was low, but with an unfathomable meaning.

"It's just a deal made for the Lord's coming."

"As for you..."

He suddenly paused, and a hint of obscure emotion emerged in his golden eyes.

After a moment, his voice sounded slowly, and every word seemed to have a heavy echo.

"Just return what belongs to the Lord to Him."

"At the same time, it is also to atone for everything your mother has done...."

Mohammed's golden face trembled violently, and his originally cold expression suddenly twisted, and his eyes seemed to burn with some crazy anger.

"She should have been the most loyal believer of the Lord!"

His voice became violent, full of anger and unwillingness, shaking the glass cover buzzing.

"It's all that guy! That black-haired man... He bewitched my sister!"

Deverot frowned and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Sure enough, this matter is related to his parents.

He took a deep breath and quickly sorted out the clues in his mind-what did his mother leave behind that made these lunatics still think about it?

He was sure that there were only two things his mother left him, one was a unique entry, and the other was a system.

But the question is...if they wanted these two things, why didn't they just kill him?

If the target was only him, there was no need to create chaos on the whole street, let alone use such a large-scale sacrificial ceremony.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at the emotional Muhammad in the glass cover, and asked slowly.

"Since you have said this, I actually have a question."

He leaned forward slightly, staring at the golden face sharply, and each word fell slowly like a test-

"Who is your 'Lord'...?"

He paused, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, and added.

"Tindaros?"

When Muhammad heard Devero's question, his face, which was originally distorted by anger, instantly calmed down, and his golden face instead revealed a hint of almost pious fanaticism.

His eyes became fiery, as if some unquestionable belief ignited his entire spiritual world.

"Tindaros?"

He chuckled, with a hint of pity in his tone.

"No, no, no, it's just a symbol that mortals barely pieced together, an easy-to-understand representation."

Muhammad's voice was low and trembling, as if he was telling some unspeakable truth.

"The essence of the Lord exists in the vast universe. He is neither a form nor a concept. He transcends all ways and angles that can be understood. Only the most pious servants can figure out even a trace of his will in His howling..."

Devero listened, and the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

Madman, a complete madman.

He rolled his eyes, but did not interrupt Muhammad, but chose to continue listening.

"If you convert to God, then God will give you real power. He will cleanse your spirit, free you from your shackles, and even..."

Mohammed's voice became low, with a hint of mysterious temptation in his tone.

"It can even take you through life and death."

Deverot raised his eyebrows when he heard this, sneered and stretched out his hand, casually pointing at Mohammed's metal body with only a face left.

"So, what you mean is-"

A playful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, full of irony.

"'Through life and death' means turning yourself into this ghost?"

Mohammed was unmoved, he even nodded slightly, as if Deverot's question just confirmed his belief.

"Oh, you don't understand."

Mohammed said slowly, his voice was so low that it seemed like he was chanting some mysterious prayer.

"Only in this way can you completely become a part of God."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his golden face glowed with a strange luster under the light, and his voice carried a certain sense of certainty that could not be questioned.

"Of course, you will become like this today, it's just a matter of time."

Deverault raised his lips slightly, sneered and leaned back in his chair, his tone was nonchalant and teasing.

"So your 'master' likes gold? Are you here to withdraw money from Gringotts today?"

His fingers knocked unconsciously with the handrail of the chair, but his eyes never moved away from Muhammad's rigid and strange golden face.

Dewlo is certainly interested in gold. Who is not interested?

But Muhammad did not answer, but suddenly showed a very abnormal smile. The kind of smile seemed to penetrate the mixture of madness and ecstasy, which was shuddering.

His eyes locked Dewlo, and his eyes seemed to have some twisted light.

"Come."

He whispered, his voice seemed to be some kind of prediction.

Dhello's smile converged instantly, and frowned slightly.

"What is here?"

Muhammad's golden face seemed extraordinarily gloomy under the reflection of the glass cover. His lips were slightly opened and closed, and a few words were vully spit out-

"People who are destined ... come ... The coming of the Lord started."

Devilo's pupils were slightly shrinking, and there was a slight disturbance in her heart.

What's the meaning?

People who are destined? Started?

He responded sharply, and scolded himself too lightly -Muhammad could not act alone. This large -scale ritual, this incident of the Ministry of Magic, could not be manipulated by a person!

The hidden repairs ... there must be other people lurking here!

But I haven't shot it just now?

But why didn't they shoot, and Mohammed was taken down by themselves?

Dewlo is too late to think about this.

For a moment, his face sank, the whole person stood up sharply, stepped forward, pressed one hand on the glass cover, his eyes were as sharp as a blade, and he looked down at Mohammed.

His voice was cold and firm, and each word seemed to be wrapped in the upcoming storm--

"In this case, I don't have time to talk nonsense with you."

He narrowed his eyes, his voice was low but was very deterrent.

"How many people do you have? Who are they?"

Dhello leaned slightly, slowly sliding down the smooth glass surface, and his tone had an irreversible sense of oppression.

"Don't worry, I have a way to let you speak."

Muhammad is still an indifferent expression. The golden face has no fluctuations, but just staring quietly at Dhero, as if a sculpture without emotion.

Dhello narrowed his eyes, his fingertips tapped a few times on the handrail of the chair, and then shook his head, and the corner of his mouth evoked a touch of irony.

"Okay, this is what you chose."

He slowly raised his right hand and pressed on the glass cover. A slender golden wire quietly pointed out from his cuffs, sliding into the glass cover like a snake.

The air trembled slightly for a moment.

At this moment, Muhammad's expression suddenly changed.

His eyes opened sharply, and his expression became extremely pious, like a pilgrim who saw the gods who had faith in his life, his lips trembled slightly, and slowly spit out two syllables-

"Lord ... Lord ..."

His voice was low and enthusiastic, with a nearly crazy awe.

Dewlo frowned and instinctively felt a mistake.

His gaze stared at Muhammad's face vigilantly, trying to find out the opponent's attempts-

But no.

Muhammad still kneeling in the glass cover, staring at him, except for the too enthusiastic expression, there was nothing different.

Why ... wrong?

Just at the moment he tried to see the clue--

——The sharp pain came from his right arm!

Like some invisible power directly deprived of part of him!

Dhello's pupils shrank sharply, and he almost lowered his head to look at his right hand.

—— On his right arm, a small black hole appeared!

That is not an ordinary wound, but an absolute nothingness, a pure "lack".

Skin, flesh, bones, magic ... as if they were directly devoured by some existence!

What is more terrible is--

This nothingness is still spreading rapidly!

His entire right arm was almost shrinking instantly!

Devilo's pupils contracted violently, and the nerves of the whole person suddenly tight at this moment-

What is this? Intersection

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