The Mystic Dominator

Rumble- 　　A thunderclap resounded through the rainy night. 　　Yang Siming, who was lying in deep sleep in front of his desk, was thus awakened. 　　Raising his head and looking around for a second, confusion gradually faded from the corners of his eyes, and a hint of a mixed smile emerged on his young face. 　　...... 　　Today, getting off work quite early. 　　Before he lost consciousness, he was still in the underground ruins in the northern part of Hashimiyah, performing the work of recording images of precious clay tablets to come. 　　However, because of a sudden earthquake, the collapsed ground as well as the earth and rocks had completely buried himself. 　　Theoretically, he was already a dead man, even if God had blessed him. 　　He should be lying in a hospital ward, slowly waking up. 　　What kind of unfolding was it to sleep on this desk 　　Near-death hallucinations Shock insanity 　　Type III contact 　　Or ...... crossing over 　　All sorts of conjectures popped out of the brain one after another. 　　As a young man living in the 21st century, his ability to take things in was still very strong. 　　Moving his body which felt like there was nothing wrong with it, Yang Siming slowly got up from the chair and looked around more carefully. 　　The moderately sized room was old but not dirty. 　　A row of vertical wardrobes taller than a man as well as dressing mirrors. 　　A framed oil painting of a white man. 　　A brown and black floor clock so old that the paint was peeling off the face stood at the edge of the room. 　　A patched fabric sofa. 　　And finally- 　　The eye was firmly locked on the candle on the desk in front of him, its candlelight root to be exact. 　　In front of the window, jagged dim candlelight set the darkness hard apart. 　　And the burnt wick hitching on the edge of the flame made the already difficult glow even more difficult. 　　--It was a candle of extremely rough workmanship. 　　So rough that it made the man in front of the candlelight realise that he had really travelled. 　　Unlike those mass-produced items made in modern factories, the candle in front of him was cloudy in colour and rough in shape, the light was dim and there was also an unusually conspicuous black smoke, and the distinctive smell of burning animal fat could even be detected in the air. 　　The most important point. 　　--was the wick of this candle! 　　Just like what he saw at a glance. 　　Underneath the yellow flame core, there existed a charred black cotton thread that had burned, but not completely. 　　It was not a modified version of the three threads twisted into one! 　　It was common knowledge. 　　In the history of mankind belonging to the earth- 　　Back in the early nineteenth century, the Frenchman with the awkward name of Strong Bachelard discovered that a single wick did not burn cleanly and improved it to a version with three strands twisted together; and then, almost at the same time, there was the French chemist Michel, who discarded animal fats and oils and switched to chemical materials to make candles. 　　Since then, the world, or rather the earth's candles, gradually abandoned the old and backward old structure. 　　Maybe some remote areas still use this backward product. 　　But in a normal convenience store, there is absolutely no way to buy this kind of goods. 　　This candle, inevitably made by the ancient method of hanging cotton thread on a wooden stick and constantly dipping it in animal fats using mechanical operations, is almost completely extinct in the 21st century! 　　...... 　　I'm kind of catching up with the trend of travelling 　　After a few breaths of silence, Yang Siming simply ripped the candle along with the candlestick and held it in close proximity for a closer look. 　　-It was the real thing. 　　Leaning his back back on the chair, his eyes then shifted to a note spread out in front of him. 　　Aside from the unrecognisable otherworldly writing on the left side of the page, more than a few things were drowned in ink stains. 　　Ink Stains ...... 　　When he had just awakened, this note was pressed under his own hand. 　　Stretching out his hands, the top of the palm lines of his right hand was indeed stained with ink of the same colour as the note's ink stains, and large swathes of the ink even spread to the position of the palm, while in the part near the edge of the palm, a white skin protruded out from the ink colour. 　　The knuckles were hidden and the fingers were long, uncalloused and white. 　　-Totally different from his own once rough yellow palms. 　　Turning sideways, Yang Simeon sat diagonally in the chair and probed, reflecting his figure in the dressing mirror behind him. 　　Slightly messy blonde hair hanging from the side of the ear to the shoulder, and Wo Xi's features like the warm sun of the early winter are gentle without losing their angles, especially a pair of dark grey eyes like Athena's sculpture, even the dim room can't hide the divine beauty in them. 　　Unable to resist, he spat out 　　A teenage girl killer, this is! 　　Such a handsome appearance, directly thrown on the street for an hour can receive at least 20 or more micro signals. 　　This crossing is definitely the top match ...... 　　A young and handsome face, a pair of unproductive palms, one's own probability to wear to a mere status position, can not worry about the life of the guy. 　　So ...... 　　What to do now 　　Confirming the crossing, confirming the new body, new questions followed. 　　The notes spread out in front of him were filled with words he had never seen before. 　　By the same token, the language of this world should be unknown to himself. 　　Referring to this look, as well as the furnishings in the room, the era context could roughly be locked in before the explosion of productivity in human society. 　　If the civilisation and customs of this world could also be docked with the earth like the interior decoration, those customs full of local characteristics could come to life. 　　At that time, in the face of his own 'memory loss', in case of any bloodletting therapy, priest exorcism, or even the most unlucky BBQ male witch barbecue package, he would not be able to withstand it. 　　Even if he wanted to defend himself, he would not be able to handle it if he did not speak the language. 　　Thinking this way, the main goal of thinking also shifted to the contents of the notes in front of him. 　　How good would it be if I could read the words on it 　　Is travelling through the world nowadays so irresponsible 　　No memory inheritance, no system assistance, not even the language is understandable, this difficulty of survival is too unfriendly to ordinary people! 　　Thinking about his difficult future and handing his back to the chair, Yang Siming subconsciously pressed his fingers on the text of the notes and slowly traced over it with his sight. 　　This was a habitual gesture when reading books. 　　Fingers pressing on the text at the end of the line of sight could create a good sense of reading. 　　This was true even if one could not experience the true meaning of it. 　　Clatter- 　　The paper pages flipped. 　　Although he couldn't read the text, Yang Siming still started flipping through the text in front of him, the current situation, even if he could only find some scribbles in his notes, it was still better than continuing to be in a situation where he knew nothing. 　　Continuously flipping through, the clues obtained were not satisfying. 　　The notes were completely different from any language he had ever known, although they could be seen to be an alphabetic script. 　　Arabic, Greek, Syriac, Cyrillic ...... 　　None of the bytes matched except for the ultra-universal characters like O that are seen in all of those. 　　Utter ignorance, utter desperation! 　　If one didn't find something, then one's own end was pretty much a foregone conclusion. 　　-Death.