In the attic of the church bell tower, there is the classic 1952 western film "Noon" in the 1952. Law enforcement officer Jali Guber walked on the streets of the western town with a gun on his shoulder.

The movie-watching person is similar to Jali Guber, wearing a plaid shirt, a curly hat, a pair of cowboy boots, and the spurs on the boots are shiny. The old guy is lying on the sofa like a huge potato, tilting his feet high, holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

Someone knocked on the door, but before he could answer, he pushed the door open and entered.

"You are still watching "Noon"? You've watched it so many times, aren't you upset?"

"I'm wrong, there are also "Flying the Mountains", "The Wild Man", "The Golden Three Detachers"..." The old cowboy didn't look back and poured a sip of wine into his mouth, "How about the trip to Europe?"

"It's okay." Anger's expression was not visible on his face. He walked to the old cowboy and sat down.

"What's going on?" the old cowboy frowned, "I thought you would recommend me to watch "Smelling the Scent of the Scent" instead."

"Then I recommend it now." Anger smiled, "I suggest you watch "Smelling the Scent of the Scent" instead."

The old cowboy was silent for a while. He rarely saw his bad friend performing this way, as if something bad happened, but what could make the bad friend lose his composure? He asked in a low voice, "Is something wrong?"

"Somewhat trouble." Anger closed his eyes and lay on the sofa, looking a little tired, "so I'll ask for help from the mentor Flammel."

"It's really rare to hear you call me like that..." The old cowboy rarely put away his cynical appearance. Over the years, he has been huddling on the sofa like a lazy snake, guarding his warm little nest and unwilling to leave. The eight-pack abs that he once proud of has turned into a whole bulge, and the handsome man in the west has long become history.

At that time, he was also known as the curry rooster in the bar and the blood hunting hound while holding a gun.

The old cowboy felt that it seemed that he had never been serious for decades. He hurried in this scattered house to watch, messing up his attic, empty wine bottles all over the ground and adult magazines thrown everywhere filled his life, and of course, there were one enduring western film after another. In such a comfortable life, he had even forgotten his name, but now, the old cowboy's eyes were flashing in his low tone, "Is there something happened?"

Angers took out a tube of dark purple potion from his black suit and handed it to the old cowboy. "The blood purification drug circulated in the Philadelphia Merchant's case can temporarily convert the mixed race into a deadpool, with great side effects. They call the biggest boss behind them "The God of Treacherous". So I'll ask you."

"What a troublesome title. 'God of Treacherous', 'Cunning Man', 'Transformer', 'Scammer', 'Sky Walker', 'Air Traveler'... and so on. These titles all represent the same title."

The old cowboy took the potion and looked carefully for a while. Then he handed the potion back to Angers, raised his head and took a sip of the strong wine, and then spoke.

"Like Flammel, they have also used titles for generations. I remember the last time the guy with the title was in the Western era. Unfortunately, I was also active at that time."

"Wrong, it was already the post-Western era when you were active?"

Angers pulled out a cigar, picked up scissors from the table and cut it open. "At that time, the cowboys disappeared, and the tentacles of civilization began to extend to the most desolate border, and there were no more illegal people." Angers paused and then asked, "What title are you talking about?"

"In my eyes, the West will always be much different." The old cowboy curled his lips, "They called themselves [Loki]. Loki was a brainless madman in all generations. Thanks to Loki back then, the Mixed Race Deadpool every day in the Greater West. It took me two weeks to find out the truth, and it took me a month to chase him. Finally, I crossed half of the Andes and took the boy to bear the result by a lake."

"You have been rotting for too long, and I have forgotten the glorious years you once had." Anger struck a match and lit a cigar. "You know much more about alchemy and the dragon clan than I do. Tell me more about Loki."

"Yes, but before we start talking, we need to clarify two points. First," the old cowboy raised a finger, "Nordic mythology implies the history of the dragon clan."

He then raised his second finger, "Second, the history of the dragon clan is different from Nordic myths."

The old cowboy is rarely serious, and his tone is quite serious. "Only by understanding these two points can we have the next conversation."

"I understand." Anger took a deep sip of the cigar, "You keep talking."

"It is said that in Norse mythology, Loki and the female giant Angelberda had three sons, namely the demon wolf Fenriu, the mortal python Yam Gard, and the god of death Hela. In the history of the dragon clan, although the identities of Hela and Fenriu are still unclear, what can be confirmed is that Yam Gard is the first generation of the Black King."

"Well," Angre nodded, "The King of Earth and Mountains has awakened many times in history, and the dragon slayers who have personally experienced have left behind speculations about their names. At least, the Yameng Kart of the zodiac python is certain."

"Also as a title passed down from generation to generation, Loki's mysteriousness is even more than Flammel. And unlike Flammel's firm standing on the side of the Secret Party, Loki's position in the past dynasties is unstable. There are both when the Secret Party stands against the Dragons and when the Dragons are inducing the recovery and profit from it."

"Fighter... Then the current Loki is on the opposite side of ours?"

"This has been true in the last three hundred years." The old cowboy pondered for a while, and then added, "But whether Loki is an enemy or not, he is a very difficult guy, and even during his honeymoon with Flammel, the Lokis are still secretly holding ulterior motives."

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"It sounds like Flammel is a feud with Loki."

"That's true." The old cowboy looked a little solemn, "but it's not just that."

“More than that?”

"Do you know the origin of Flammel?"

"I know a little about this." Anger touched the stubble on his chin. "The first generation Flammel was a Parisian bookmaker who accidentally reproduced ancient alchemy and became the master of alchemy. Every generation Flammel would pass this name to his most valued students. That's probably all."

"That's right. But in fact, the first generation of Flammel did not reproduce ancient alchemy from lost materials, but inherited it." The old cowboy turned his head and stared at Angers' eyes and said word by word, "He inherited the wisdom of the previous Flammel, thus becoming the 'first generation' Flammel."

Infected by the seriousness of the old cowboy, Anger also sat upright. He thought for a while and said, "I don't understand. Do you mean that you already had this title before the first generation of Flammel?"

"That's right," the old cowboy nodded, "Framer and Loki have been vendetta for thousands of years. Perhaps more than a thousand years have passed, far longer than the beginning of the 15th century. Even if there is an occasional honeymoon period, the overall tone remains unchanged. For thousands of years, Flamer has been fighting with Loki in secret, but..."

"But Flammel's inheritance has been interrupted for a while, right?"

"It is so. For some reason, Flammel had a three hundred years of dynasty. Therefore, after recreating Flammel's inheritance, in order not to let this great title be lost again, the "first generation" mentor quickly joined the Secret Party to obtain protection. After obtaining the help of the Secret Party, [Flamel] once forced [Loki] into a desperate situation, but this move also violated the rules agreed upon between the two sides for thousands of years, and-"

The old cowboy raised his head and drank a big sip of strong wine, as if to cover up the concern in his heart. He wiped his mouth and continued, "And no one knows that in the three hundred years that Flammel was interrupted, several Rockies were born, and those [Lokis]... had done something again."
Chapter completed!