In the third year after the spiritual energy was revived, zombies chewed up half of Qingyun City. Shen Hengfang knelt deep in the mine, and the destiny detector on his wrist revealed a bright red number: -8213. Abandoned by the side branch, a disaster star with negative destiny value, even zombies don't bother to bite him. The mining pickaxe was smashed down, and a crack opened in the stone wall. What was inside was not a spiritual mine, but a withered yellow fishing rod full of cracks. [Tiandao Wreck·Fishing Rod] has been bound. The rules are injected into your mind: every time you swing the pole, you consume your own good luck. The lower the causality value, the more unreasonable the things caught are. Shen Hengfang looked at his fate that had turned black and smiled. On the first rod, the fishing line was stretched straight - half of the godhead was pulled up, and it was still dripping blood. Tremors of Heaven: The fragments of the God of Creation return to their places. On the second stroke, the entire mine began to shake - the spine of the Corpse Emperor broke out of the ground, and zombies within a hundred miles of him knelt down. Before he could swing the third rod, the sky cracked. An old voice was crying: "That's enough. If you keep fishing, my old bones will fall apart." Shen Hengfang looked up and saw Tiandao transformed into a bald programmer, holding the server and wailing: "I'm bankrupt. Can you go fishing in other worlds?" At this time, outside the mine, the masters from the three holy places were staring at his fishing rod with red eyes. No one knows that the "good luck" paid every time he fishes is not his own - in this world, whose good luck is being drained?
The iron gate was knocked again.
Lin Yuan leaned his back against the shelf and stared at the deformed rolling shutter door.
With every loud noise, the bolt on the door shaft collapsed outwards, and iron filings fell down.
The rancid smell comes from the crack in the door
