Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

It can be seen that the author is a novice. The rhythm, text, and narrative were almost a mess at the beginning. He only relied on his own literary quality and love to write. Anyway, the story starts to get interesting after 20%, and the subsequent development is also very interesting. Unlike most authors who work hard to follow the process, this author's brain has not been completely polluted by the commercial outline. It is rare that he does not put too much pressure on the battle, and he has also written a group portrait. But the shortcomings are also very conspicuous. If other content is scored six, seven or ten out of ten, the setting is scored three points. If you lose the setting method, you may only get zero points. Often after a few pictures, you will see a bunch of new gadgets indiscriminately smeared all over your face.

The quality of the recent updates is very high. Fish Tank was born out of the original Magical Line of Defense story. It is not easy to write a suffering family-style endless hell in a small environment in the Border Knights Ridge. The content of Oak Ridge can be said to be rich enough. The operation between factions and the division of political power are all well written. Especially Erdrich, who is under the influence of family culture, can depict a political hunt among blood relatives. Blood ties may bring stability and connection, but it also brings hopeless estrangement and huge entanglements. The distortion and decay of the ancient knight family, the oppressive internal struggles, and the deformed rule comparable to cholera, all leave a deep impression on people. At the same time, the appearance of each character is smooth, the factional positions are three-dimensional, and the motivations of the actions are clear. I really have to praise the writing power. There are also shortcomings, such as: the lack of heroic perspective of Samael and his party, the reduction of the description of the infrastructure in the heart of the heart, the lack of description of external forces, and the failure to better show the external pressure. Of course, a big reason for all this can be attributed to insufficient production capacity I believe that when reading novels, everyone pays more attention to quality, and quality is directly proportional to the time invested. However, the fish tank has become increasingly busy recently, and the update time is almost squeezed out. So I hope that all readers can try their best to understand the new author Yutan, give more encouragement and support to the story, be less violent and more tolerant. As his friend, I am extremely grateful.

I have read the 200th chapter so far, and the protagonist still has no power at all. He is just a grassroots team, exploring everywhere, and not one of the seven modern people knows about industrialization? They are all handmade in small workshops, or they are lost high technologies that cannot be copied and have limited production. What's in the dungeon? Apart from the farm, I don't know what else there is. What's in industry? Do you know that there are a few blast furnaces and nothing else? The output of even a county town cannot be compared with that of four empires? The undead also rely on small-scale farms here and there, without a unified industrial assembly line? So far, there are not all puppets, there are less than 20 people in the protagonist force who have self-awareness, and there is no automated machinery. The control of the undead and the control of Warcraft are also limited. In my concept, any factory, even a toy factory, is more useful than the half-baked factories of the protagonist. I don't know why the author didn't write about industrialization. The book is called Dungeon. As a result, the dungeon is completely hidden, and there is no mention of development, how the power becomes stronger, and how to achieve industrialization. It also doesn't write about the dimensionality reduction attack on the backward Middle Ages. The male protagonist explores everywhere and relies on the garbage dug out of the garbage dump to fight. His use of the high technology of the Gods is worse than that of those medieval countries. The power system is also a mess. Winning or losing depends on the author's improvisation. You should focus on the development of power. Individual strength is not important. I accept that the power system is a mess, but after 200 chapters, you still rely on the personal power of the protagonist and six knights. You have no idea what you will get from farming. Most of the readers who came to read your book came for the farming articles. What exactly is this about farming? I don't know if the author can read this long paragraph, but I hope the author can improve it. The writing is not bad, but the plot is a complete mess. Isn't it that we read novels just for fun? Has the author ever thought about what is so exciting about this book? There is neither the pleasure of developing one's power and increasing one's base, nor the pleasure of beating enemies violently in war scenes. The protagonist just explores everywhere, and the things he discovers are simply taken away, without any feedback at all. Has the author not considered these issues? Your book didn't get good grades. Think about it. What's the problem? Of course, if you want to say that writing is not for food, but for hobbies, then you are free to just treat what I said as a fart, that's it (personal opinion, if you have different opinions, you are right)

From the far world of blueprints, builds, and endless design, she tore through the veil where the lost souls resign, a half-blood of Ronove, with darkness aligned, to call forth the king that the fates had confined. From the far world of blueprints, builds, and endless design, he stepped through the veil where the lost souls resign, a wanderer from far realms, in cursed steel confined, the old wraith‑armor that binds him, dark and undefined. From the far world of blueprints, builds, and endless design, their paths now converge, two souls intertwined, her blood‑oath, his iron will, forever aligned, to build with nether copper a realm redefined.

It's quite good-looking. The narrative rhythm is a bit unconventional for a mainstream book. It's relatively loose and free, but the writing is very good. The characters are very fleshed out. Even the supporting characters who don't write much can still feel alive. The author's writing skills are quite good👍

The writing style and plot are extremely solid. If I just read the content of this book, I would think that he is a great writer. In terms of plot arrangement, it obviously feels like there is a very specific outline. The world view design is very interesting. It is not a very traditional Western fantasy world view. The addition of the time traveler protagonist also makes the look and feel of this book not a classic Western fantasy. However, the epic flavor and human touch that fans of Western fantasy themes like are very orthodox. The writing style is similar to Yuantong, but it lacks a touch of humor and the writing style is more focused on polishing the characters in details. The sentences are neatly divided into clear paragraphs, making it easy to read. The description of the environment is detailed, but I personally feel that there is still room for optimization in some places (for example, it is a little cumbersome when you first see Thornfall City, which should be more understandable if you are a listening book user) I think this will be the next Sword of the Dawn, a Sword of the Dawn with more three-dimensional characters, but the plot remains to be seen, and we will wait and see the author's performance.

I've started automatically subscribing to books. It's fun to save up and read. Each character is well drawn. I really like this book.

How long has it been since I heard this? When I first heard this sentence many years ago, my heart surged and I felt that I could do something great for the country and the people. Now I am in my twenties and have accomplished nothing. I can only indulge in the illusory online world to anesthetize myself every day. I have suffered and resisted, but in the end it seems that I have achieved nothing. Our generation is both lucky and unfortunate. We have received education from the country and learned a lot. But when we are ready to work hard, we are at a loss. We don't know what we can do. It is like being punched on cotton. The feeling of humiliation is indescribable. We long to change our destiny, but destiny always leaves us. People who read this passage, I hope you will always be like the sun at eight or nine o'clock, illuminating others and warming yourself.

Adventure in the beginning, expansion in the middle stage, and a sea of ​​stars in the later stage! ! At the end of each chapter, as much as possible, something like an introduction or reflections will be added It is regarded as a label, and it is also like giving an introduction to the character or a sentence that may be said It is the great explorers who challenge it What supports them are five motivations ——A. R. C Company Has the unified language disappeared? Now, you should be able to understand what I'm saying, right? You understand what you should say and do, right? ————Rational violence Oh hey hey, you can choose your own name ————White shirt with black stockings

As the title says, I wish you good health, frequent updates, and monthly votes!

It's really good, but it's a pity that there aren't many words right now, so I can't enjoy reading it 🙂

Looking at the introduction, I thought it was a traditional lord novel, but the first few chapters showed an out-of-the-box protagonist and the devil's daughter. The light novel flavor struck me, and I didn't know whether I should continue reading it.

As long as the author writes the book well, there is no need to worry about no one reading the work. When I was looking for books at Qidian, I judged whether a novel was a good novel by looking at the number of posts in the discussion forum. Now there are more than 200 posts discussing about fifty chapters, which means that there are still many people who like this book.

To be honest, the author's description of the armor and the existence of high technology led to this image of the protagonist in my mind

If you have any questions while reading, please send them here. The author can see it and will answer patiently. If something happens, please speak normally. If you must curse, please come here to curse the author, not the work, and don't curse other readers. Readers of this work and other favorite works are innocent and have opinions about the author. Please come directly to greet the author myself. I also hope that everyone will try their best to be civilized people, maintain a civilized book review area, consider the reading experience of other readers, and do not do to others what you do not want others to do to you. Thank you for your cooperation.

As I read it, I felt that the direction of the plot had changed, and the focus of the characters had also shifted When I first read the title, I thought it was a construction/dungeon/farming flow in which the protagonist and the demon heroine build dungeons and pits together to make the adventurers prosper I saw 6 fellow characters popping up in the middle. The family and the world's giants/hating intelligence turned into RimWord, and the demon heroine turned directly into a fringe person who occasionally gives out sweets This change caused my expectations for the plot of this book to deviate. I really don't understand the meaning of these 6 people of the same race gathering 7 knights...

Looking at the gaudy introduction, I thought it was some childish and mindless one-click dungeon construction. If I hadn't seen so many monthly tickets, I would have missed it. This book is actually a hardcore group portrait script. The background is also much crueler than the introduction seems. I almost missed a good book. If you don't want to read the system text, you can give it a try. If you want to see the protagonist build a dungeon and kill everyone with one click, you can retreat.

Creative Interpretation by Fans of the Female Plastic Pulange All the above appearances are authorized screenshots

The writing is very good. In fact, I feel that there is a bit of hardcore science fiction in it. Haha. The description of Lao Sa in recent chapters has successfully established the character of this character. He is considerate and thoughtful, but not weak and will not be slaughtered by others. Lao Sa has been working hard to bring the undead knights back from the edge of destroying the world. He succeeded. He did it. From the very beginning when he first met Lahadur, he was attacked by others. Later, he defeated various undead knights and successfully dominated the entire Heart of Heart Plains. The author's description of each character made me feel like I was reading the Transformers Leader's Evidence when I read this book. Old Sa is like Optimus Prime, Ansheba is a bit like a less cruel Megatron (think like it), and the legendary backstabbing expert Lahadur is like Mr. Starscream who can't even organize a picnic.

Good book I won't make too many comments. It has the same feeling as when I read ancient fantasy online novels (although I am a Penguin reader). The text is very detailed and the plot has a main line. I won't pick out individual mistakes, that's about it.

The Bloodline Aesthetics of Demons - Thalia's Diplomatic Illustration

Rt, the writing is better than most authors at the starting point, and some of the foreshadowings are also very interesting. Looking at the monthly ticket list, you can tell that many people like this book. The early emotional descriptions are delicate, the protagonist is optimistic and resourceful, and the heroine is also very rich. I originally thought this was a story of two lonely souls redeeming each other, from being constantly threatened to being in a safe situation, building a dungeon in the central swamp, from being alone to forming a team, from redemption between two people to saving others, from being bound by rules to changing the world. But everything changed since a certain chapter added the setting of a depressed sister to the protagonist. Since then, she has become like a tool to purely push the plot. The heroine has become a background. I can't see the meaning of her existence, and the fact is dispensable. The name of this book is Underground City Engineering, but it does not enter the underground city until Chapter 50. It has 220,000 words and has not yet entered the theme of underground city construction. I thought everything would be fine once we entered the dungeon, right? The male protagonist and female protagonist can finally become stronger and stronger, and use the dungeon to have an impact on the world, but this is not the case. The protagonist's system is not directly used in the construction of the dungeon, but is used to fight wits and courage with several other time-travelers. The core conflict of the following 200,000 has been focused on these few people. I am not interested in my fellow contemporaries on the earth at all, and the construction of the dungeon is still not the focus. I have read about 400,000 words now, and the whole story is straightforward without a single climax or breaking point. The background setting is also not new. There are too many works on this theme of interstellar colonization based on fantasy, and it no longer attracts me. There are so many things I want to complain about, I am too lazy to type them, but if you can accept this development of the plot, it will still be very interesting. Obviously I can't accept it.

The first 20 chapters were really boring. I felt like I had to introduce every dog ​​I met on the way to escape. In chapter 33, a similar character's childhood tragedy suddenly appeared, which left me speechless. The beginning emphasizes that he is an engineering man, who gives the impression that he is calm and rational, and has a clear plan for the goal. The sympathy of the poisoner feels a bit overflowing, and then the tragedy of childhood suddenly appears. Go straight to the light novel. The title of the book deceives people into talking about infrastructure construction. After more than 30 chapters, the place to build a dungeon has not yet been reached. Prepare to skip and find out you have to pay to see the infrastructure.

Why are there so many brats in the comments section? Write a little emotional drama, write a little memory and it will be poisonous. If you learn a word, you will use it randomly, right? So amazing

When I first wrote this book, I said that the content of farming is far less than adventure. It is an introduction to deceive farming enthusiasts. It is actually a road movie. Looking back now, it is still like this. There is basically no farming haha

Reckless, fervent, pure. Heartbeats, the rumble of earth and peaks; Blood, the blaze of fire that never sleeps; stone? Jaws of iron, biting through life's harsh pain. When molten blood cools and hardens, Fate's loud call draws thee homeward. Silent hills are torn apart, Mountains quake as thy soul departs. Crash — what heavy treasure falls? Gold! Earth, hold thy child in thy mighty Breast! Fire, open thy warm forge hearth! Great Parents! Thy forged soul returns, in triumph! Reckless, enthusiastic, pure. The heartbeat is the resonance of the earth's crust and the mountains, the blood rushes like flames, the rock formations and veins hum in the soil. Children of rock, microcosms of the earth, in the arms of lava and fire, born in hot coals. What is shaking? The teeth are forged, gnawing at the dry suffering in the world. When the forged iron blood solidifies The supreme destiny calls you fiercely, The silent mountain is excavated and the mountains tremble. Collision—— What is this sinking weight? It's gold! O earth, open your generous embrace, O flame, open your warm hearth, The great parents! The cannonballs you forged are ready Return in triumph!

On the contrary, I still prefer the plot in the early and middle stages of the book. The number of characters is small and prioritized. The rhythm of the writing is better controlled, so the plot and characters are written more realistically. Recently, in these plots where the knights are all dispatched, it is obvious that each character has an equal share of the plot, which makes all the characters less impressive, causing the dialogue to give people a flat feeling. In comparison, whether it is La and Pu discovering the ominous pig, or the protagonist dueling with An, because the plot is designed around one or two people, the details and expressions are obviously better. For example, in the Omen Pig Incident, Lahadol was not only known as a rebellious, foul-mouthed, and flattering character, but his sharp thinking and action abilities were also portrayed. Compared with the arrangement of following a large army and being responsible for making jokes, it is obviously more three-dimensional. It is difficult to write a group portrait by always gathering everyone together. Why not let them do their own thing, and let the protagonist or the plot lead the story of these knights. After all, not everyone is good at fighting and not everyone is good at exploring. Who does what? Besides, many characters have not yet been developed. For example, is the simple-minded and muscular sports student really such a shallow character image? What else do the demons who follow the protagonist to open the dungeon have to do besides their daily work? These can all be written in detail, but they cannot be written when everyone is bustling and going out together. I have talked with netizens about this book in the past two days, and they all feel sorry for the weak current situation of the book. It seems that the rich experiences like a road movie in the beginning when the demon girl sneaks into the heart of the body, the diverse and complex characters and stories no longer exist. Now the author is more interested in spending more space to describe the setting and the formation of the Death Knights, and even does not focus on the construction of the dungeon, which should be a more important plot. I'm not sure if all the relics and artifacts deserve such detailed description, but it does break the continuity of the story to some extent. In short, I still hope that the book will get better and better as time goes by, and I look forward to the subsequent development of the story.

The beauty that belongs only to the sun - Thalia's garden painting

Above the night, the twin moons hung in the sky. The bright and dim moonlight was blocked by layers of thick lead clouds. It could not reach the hinterland of the Bone Heart Mountains. It could only cling to the steep cliffs and break into pieces of cold light. In the barren mountains, the breath of living creatures has almost disappeared, and only the wandering undead shuttle in the shadows. The howling wind carries the coldness and deathly silence, blowing across the rugged rocks, making a whimpering sound that chills the soul and bones. There is no trace of life in the continuous high mountains, and the cracked earth spreads in all directions like dried blood; in the dark brown soil cracks, endless forests of copper branches and claws grow wildly - these strange trees, which are condensed of copper and dead wood, are leafless and lifeless, with twisted branches and bare branches piercing the dark night sky, glowing with a dead blue-gray color under the weak moonlight. The thick copper tree roots penetrated deeply into the humus layer, and the intertwined gaps were filled with layers of dead bones and rusted weapons: broken swords, broken spears, broken pieces of armor, intertwined with white bones. These are the dead remains of countless warriors for thousands of years, lying quietly on the wounds of the earth, silently telling the endless killings and desolation. At the entrance to the ruins of the Age of Gods shrouded in deathly silence, rubble rolled down from the broken cliff and fell among the roots of the copper tree, making a tiny crackling sound. In an instant, it was completely swallowed up by the boundless silence of the barren mountain. This is the core area of ​​the continent, where lies the "Heart of the Dead", a forbidden area of ​​life - the fragile balance that has been maintained for centuries has been eroded by selfish desires and wars. Like a candle in the wind, it only takes a wisp of evil wind to extinguish it, dragging the world into eternal darkness. But where is the stability around it? There, the academic kingdom of Floren has become a gold coin that can be manipulated by others in the game between nations. Under the light of extensive knowledge, there is a helplessness that is at the mercy of others. There, the Supar Desert Empire was pushed into troubled times. Under the brilliance of gold and jade, there was unspeakable pain and distortion. Here, the capped glaciers of Erdrich's Snow Mountain Empire have long been boiled by the overwhelming fighting spirit and murderous spirit. They are trembling all year round and never have a moment of peace. Here, in the land of the Holy Light Church, the cumbersome doctrines that have been tampered with and distorted are burning with fanatic flames all night long, and even the humanity and compassion in the religion are gradually burned away. Peace has long been shaky. The endless greed and inflated ambitions of the kings crushed the last thread of balance to pieces and dissipated in the wind. For the sake of territory, resources and hegemony, the living beings in the world spend their whole lives pursuing their obsession; for the sake of relics, technology and laws, the authority of the dead gods wanders into the world. The kings and nobles fought crazily for the territory, just like drunken men fighting for scraps in a tavern. Their weapons were fighting each other, trying to tear the complete and rich continent into pieces and turn it into a burial object for their selfish desires. Look! Every inch of land in this world is feeding the insatiable ambition; every scattered relic can be used by bloodthirsty and warlike warriors to drink up the extremely false and fleeting glory - this is the truth of the world that comes into view and penetrates into the bones of Samael when he walks out of the ruins of the Age of Gods. The crown of tree roots wrapped with cold copper patterns emerges from the thick shadow. Samael walked out of the ruins slowly. His body was as cold as steel, and he did not breathe. His steps were gentle but firm, stepping over bone fragments and gravel without making any unnecessary noise. He slowly raised his head to look at the night dome, chaotic and heavy thoughts surging deep in his consciousness. The howling night wind is like a wandering traveler, passing through the gap in the heart of the vast continent, bringing with it the noise and lamentation of the troubled times from all directions. The war drums of Erdrich Snow Mountain roared, as dull as the heartbeat of an ancient behemoth, causing the snow to crack and the ice to fall into the abyss; under the spire of Floren Academic Castle, the crisp sound of precision instruments colliding mixed with the ecstasy and cries of scholars, shattering into pieces in the cold wind. In the Supar Desert Temple, the sound of the forbidden furnace fire crackling and roasting the slaves, wrapped in the wails of twisted flesh and blood, drifted into the desolate distance with the yellow sand; the heavy bells of the Holy Light Holy See were frantic and sharp, severing the nerves of the continent over and over again, leaving all living beings sinking and restless. The sound of the wind gradually subsided, and the barren mountains returned to deathly silence. Even the copper branches remained motionless. Samael's eyes penetrated the dark night and the thick lead clouds, looking into the chaotic and unknown distance. There were no unnecessary emotions in the body of the underworld, only heavy thoughts flowing silently in the bottom of his heart like an underground river. He knows better than anyone else that war never destroys more than just living lives - it is barbaric, futile, empty, and an endless self-consumption carved into the bones of intelligent beings. Under the crown of tree roots, his state of mind arose, and the copper branches around him drooped one after another, tainting him with an irreversible depression. Above the sky, a silver tear streaked across the sky, trailing tiny tails of light that flickered under the sparse starlight, just like a confession that no one cares about in this sinking world, falling into boundless darkness. He couldn't see through the unknown road ahead, and the dark copper gauntlet slowly clenched, making a slight metal collision sound. After stopping for a moment of silence, he turned around and walked slowly towards the itinerary set in his work diary. Avoid the flames of war, stick to the inherent value of life, and refuse to become a vassal in the war of selfish desires. Is this idea really realistic? He pondered this question. The gravel beneath his feet was gently crushed, and the copper branch claws slowly passed over the shoulder armor. The cold touch brushed against the underworld copper armor, leaving a faint wet trace of condensation. After walking only a few dozen steps, a tall and majestic figure burst into view unexpectedly - Anshiba stood quietly under the copper tree in the distance, wearing a thick giant copper armor, with ancient vine patterns engraved on the ceramic steel coating. The antlers on his head were sharp and pointed straight into the night sky. His figure was as majestic as a mountain, like an unmoving stone statue. He had been waiting here for an unknown period of time. There is only a narrow gap left in the frog-shaped helmet under the antlers, revealing unknown light and unique psychic signals. Samael's footsteps paused silently. Before he could ask, a cold and low voice came from the figure, breaking the dead silence of the barren mountain. "Once upon a time, the unifying king of the demon clan rebelled against the gods, but his achievements were brilliant but he died within a few years; the founders of the Thirteen Kingdoms Covenant - the proud elves, the rugged dwarves, and the four greedy human kings once drank the Horse Star Lantern Plain with the dream of domination, and they were so grand. "Anseba's tone was calm and almost indifferent, like a historian overlooking the years, stating the cold history word by word, "But in just a few generations, under the witness of their speechless corpses, all the glory was gone, and all the souls returned to the twin moons." The night wind blew through the dead branches of the copper tree trunk, making a soft rustling sound, adding a sense of loneliness to this cold story. The lead clouds moved slowly, and the moonlight from the twin moons fell on the crown of Samael's tree roots, giving off a cold light. The information in his sight flashed, and the fragments deep in his memory emerged in the database: the mountains of corpses and sea of ​​blood in the Star Lantern Plain, the fragments of the broken covenant, and the tragic scenes of kings killing each other were as clear as yesterday. The past experiences and experiences quietly resonated with Anseba's words, and the possibility of goodness and peace in my heart was weighed again. A moment later, Samael's voice was low and calm: "We have all seen the bones in the Starlight Plain, the underground ruins of the Covenant of Kings, and the destruction of everything they created with their own hands. The so-called prosperous times and covenants are nothing but self-deceiving dreams, and the self-consolation of a group of creatures blinded by ambition." Anseba stepped forward slowly, his thick armor making a dull sound as it rubbed against each other. He stretched out his hand and lightly touched the copper branch beside him. The moment the copper touched the branch, the still-vital wood gradually shriveled up. The words follow the actions, no longer looking back to the past, but directly pointing to the cruel reality in front of them. "They think that a covenant can lock in their selfish desires, and that their dominance can last forever, but they don't know that the glory piled up by greed is inherently vulnerable." There was a bit of coldness in Anshiba's voice. "Everything is illusion, everything is a nightmare, and peace has never been the will of the gods. Samael, you should enter this cruel reality and find your ambition and destination - for us, the important thing has never been just being a 'human being'." Anshiba turned around slowly, the edges of the antlers and armor cut through the night, the sound of armor plates clashing was low and far away, spiritual energy surged between the gaps in the frog-shaped helmet, shining with unknown light. Samael stood still, his bronze body like a copper tree rooted in the earth. After a moment of silence, he retorted: "We have been imprisoned in the gravity of cruel reality and have never escaped. But life should not be a waste of futile war, nor should it be a tool for pursuing vain ambitions. Life should have its value." "I recognize your philosophy as a leader, but simple kindness is too fragile." Anshiba looked at him quietly, the light flashing under the frog-shaped helmet, and his tone was sober and heavy. "But how far can a country built with weakness and an order maintained with kindness go? You once said you wanted to return the world to its rightful place, but how can you tolerate all this?" This question is not only a question to Samael, but also to himself. At present, the explorers of the alliance are gradually going deep into the heart of the corpse, and the balance that has been maintained for hundreds of years is about to collapse. They are just pawns at the mercy of the chess players behind the scenes. What awaits in the future will be the flames of war sweeping the world. Thinking of those princes and nobles who trampled on the laws and regarded the common people as nothing, Anshiba's tone was filled with anger and murderous intent. "Emperor Erdrich is obsessed with conquest, Scholar Florent has no regard for human ethics, and Sultan Supar is addicted to transformation. They are hopeless." Samael added coldly, the coldness in his tone replaced the previous peace, and he was obviously convinced by the cruelty of reality. "For them, the law is a tool to oppress the weak, and authority is a sharp blade to satisfy greed. The Pope has become a puppet of the alliance, and the disciples of the Holy Light Church have abandoned their human vows, imprisoned lives, and ignored sins as normal. The abominable system of the gods has been taken as a matter of course." "Oh, the kings and nobles hold the power of creation, but they all throw themselves into the war to fight for and plunder, filling the abyss of insatiable desire." Samael's voice was a little more decisive, "This is the deepest blasphemy to civilization and the most complete betrayal of life." After the words were settled, the barren mountains became dead again. The copper branches are still, the wind has stopped, the light of the twin moons seems to be stagnant, and there is only the sound of the wandering dead souls between heaven and earth. Neither of them spoke again, and silence spread in the air. They each settled their emotions, waiting for a decision. The huge antlered warrior stood up slowly, and the Pluto Iron and the armor made of bones collided with each other, making a deep and heavy sound that echoed in the dark night, like the weight of steel hitting the silent air. Anshiba's voice was calm and firm, with an unmistakable determination: "To cleanse all this corruption and evil, war is the only way. I can't forget the catastrophe in my heart. I remember the vicious roars of the soldiers who died in battle, and the endless repetition of despair and pain of the dead in reincarnation." Samael remained silent for a long time, his body standing. He connected his consciousness to the view of the sky weather observer and looked at the sunken earth in the distance: the lights that flickered on and off in lies, and the innocent creatures whose lives were extinguished in ignorance, oppression and war, all came to mind one by one. His emotions flashed through anger at the world, fanaticism for hunting, and sadness for life. These chaotic emotions were quietly affecting him, but in the end they settled into an almost cold and extreme sobriety - this was a thorough understanding of himself and the world after traveling, seeing illusions turned to ashes, and beings destroyed. This kind of sobriety finally broke the shackles of his good cognition. "What you said is right." He finally spoke, his voice restrained but firm, and the words contained a completely different decision from the past. "Human beings have never been able to sustain themselves by relying on kindness." Samael's words were full of insight into the essence. "Goodness is fragile, peace is perishable, and order is easily distorted by selfish desires. Human beings always repeat the same mistakes and chase the same illusions. It is not until they destroy everything with their own hands that they remember what true dignity is." The night wind swept through the barren mountains again, picking up bone fragments and gravel, hitting the cold armor of the two men. The two moons were cold, and the light and shadow intertwined, stretching the two ghost knights' figures into a long and lonely figure, projecting them on the cracked ground, intertwined with the shadows of the copper trees. They stood in the boundless darkness, facing each other in silence. There was no verbal exchange, no body collision, only the two undead psychic signals intertwined and resonated in the air. The concepts gradually aligned. The previous differences and disputes were resolved at this moment, and a tacit consensus was formed in the silence. A cannon shot was heard in the distance, breaking the silence. Anshiba stood still, the dim light under the antlers of the frog's helmet remained silent. "The Ghost Knight has the mission of condemning sins and judging the vanity of the world." He said slowly, "I don't want the dead to fall into reincarnation forever, and you don't want the living to be enslaved forever - what we want is never the pleasure of killing and the glory of conquest." "All we ask for is for the upside-down world to return to its proper place, for the order torn apart by selfish desires to regain its dignity, and for the endless repetition of suffering to finally end." Samael's voice became quieter, and his words contained a confession of his own existence and a calm acceptance of his immortal fate. Anseba nodded slowly, his heavy battle helmet hanging slightly low, and the edges of the armor glowed coldly in the moonlight. "War is not the purpose." The giant antlered warrior spoke in a deep voice, his voice rumbling through the night, echoing Samael's philosophy. "It is a necessary hardship in the world, the price of the soul looking for direction in chaos, and the only way to rebirth after the fall of civilization." "Killing is not the destination." The heavy bronze-crowned leader responded, his voice as calm as a tombstone, "It is a means to cut off illusions, a price to cleanse away the filth, and a heavy weight that the living must bear before the world can stand up again." The two were speechless to each other, only their will gradually strengthened, carrying an unspeakable weight. Two young hearts from different worlds understand: Life will never awaken because of tenderness, but will only wake up because of brokenness; Civilization will never last long because of tolerance, but will only become tough through tempering. This is not fanaticism, but a profound understanding of the pain of life. It is the heaviest and most regretless reward for this sinking world. The long night is about to dawn, the twin moons streak across the sky, and the lead clouds float, revealing a bright color. After a long time, Samael slowly raised his steps, and Anshiba turned around simultaneously. The two figures stood side by side, looking at the high steel wall at the edge of the corpse's heart. There, the drums will beat and the flames of war will burn. Perhaps, for that slim hope, they will ignite the flames of war with their own hands, use iron and blood to forge a new path for the sunken world. Hmph. Life is frail. Life is cruel. Reality is frail. Reality is cruel. The world falls. The gods are silent. The gods fall. Bound in nether bronze, knows rebirth is no grace, but a price. It curses: one heart, undying. Oh. Life is fragile, life is cruel. Reality is fragile, reality is cruel. The earth is falling and the gods are silent. The gods have fallen and the earth is silent. The fire is not burning yet. The fire is not extinguished. Only by guarding the ghost in the copper, can we realize that rebirth is not a gift, but it is a price. It curses, a heart, immortal.

The light buzz of the Hades Bronze Bell Tower slowly spread in the core area of ​​the dome. There was no noisy sound, only the faint sound of tools touching the rock surface. Old Duke stood by the ledge of the settlement. A gentle ripple of psychic energy swept through everyone, and the day's work was assigned silently. This wandering demon clan has long lost its restlessness in the calmness of the dungeon, and the tacit understanding of each performing their duties is hidden in every gentle movement. Yaqi led four craftsmen and three teams of cave dwellers to the dome connection in the middle of the underground city. This is a stress-bearing node during the early expansion. Several pieces of cast stone walls were leached with fine marks due to the pressure of the underground rock. The spiritual bone supports embedded in the gaps were slightly loose, and the flower stone decorations on the side of the wall were covered with a thin layer of dust. He knelt down and gently brushed the cracks on the stone surface with his fingertips, his movements gentle and slow, as if he was taking care of his residence. Under the restraint of spiritual energy, the cave dweller docilely drooped his limbs. The dark outer armor contained all the ferocity. He only held the spare fused stone filler steadily, filled the black sand into the cracks of the stone, and then slowly tamped it with the soles of his hard-armored feet. Yaqi held the grinding stone and wiped the lines of the flowerstone rock bit by bit. The craftsmen beside him also lowered their heads to calibrate the spiritual bone brackets. There was no competition or rivalry, only the concentration of repairing it - this was the city where they settled. Every stone and every bracket was the basis for a stable life, and there was no room for perfunctory work. After the repairs were completed, the team moved to the underground forging workshop. The magic flame in the furnace burned warmly, without any violent fire, but only burned the iron billet evenly red. Archi slowly raised the forging hammer to forge load-bearing gears for repairing the glycogen machine and reinforced fasteners for the caravan's pack equipment, which were all key tools for maintaining daily life in the dungeon and outings. The craftsman's fingertips stroked the edges of the forged parts and smoothed the burrs. His eyes showed a sense of practicality for the objects. These objects would make the dungeon run more smoothly and make the journey out more stable. In the Insect Path Ecological Cycle Area, Gwyneth led several garden craftsmen to guard the planting strips. Under the influence of the "Corner of Plenty", clusters of crystal fungi on the rock wall grew full, starchy crops in the soil sprouted young seedlings, and ferns grew slowly along the ecological tank. She gently pinched the mature crystal fungus with her fingertips and carefully picked it off without even bruising the mycelium underneath; the gardeners squatted in the field ridges and used their spiritual energy to gently stir the soil to loosen the starch crops. Their eyes fell on the bright green seedlings, showing their tender appreciation for vitality. The cave dweller hangs his limbs and spreads the picked crystal fungi on the drying rack. His movements are clumsy but cautious, guarding this vital place that supports the community. In the Glucose Workshop, the psychic machine hummed steadily, without any harsh roar. The once tall and green plants were turned into dried starch crops and sent to the roller mill. They were ground into fine powder and then filtered, steamed and purified, and slowly condensed into a glistening sugar paste. The sweet aroma filled the workshop. The craftsman on duty stood by the machine, using spiritual energy from time to time to calibrate the machine's speed, and put the produced glycoside paste into sealed rock pottery jars - this was the dungeon's future bulk commodity to the outside world, and it was also one of the most sought-after materials in the sporadic demon settlements outside. Once everything is ready, it's time for the most secretive matter today: the departure of the foreign caravan. There is no mighty team, only the ultimate low-key: Karen and Glen, an experienced craftsman in the settlement, lead the team, riding on docile and generous mountain ponies. The five cave dwellers have restrained all their ferocity.                                                                                                                                                                      All the sealed bulk sugar paste, the filtered refined black sand, and the regular cast stone slabs are all necessary for the external wandering settlements to build residences and maintain their survival; scattered crystalline dried mushrooms, high-energy starch, and copper tools are used as additions to the exchange of materials. This trade route has never been smooth, it is rugged and dangerous - it has to go through the narrow rock path that can only be passed by one person, pass through the copper forest, avoid the rapid water of the underground river, and avoid the bloodthirsty monsters wandering in the heart of the heart wilderness. The whole journey can only take hidden paths, and dare not reveal any traces. Their purpose has never been to make a profit, but to quietly inquire about information about wandering groups in the outside world, and then quietly spread the word about the stability of the underground city: regular residences, sufficient food, a safe environment, and acceptance of all wandering craftsmen and settlements. Old Duke handed over two bags of rock marrow biscuits, and only whispered: "Go slowly, hide your whereabouts, and report that you are safe." Karen nodded, exchanged a look with Glenn, and his spiritual energy was activated. The five cave dwellers and mountain ponies loaded the goods and quietly entered the hidden rock path outside the underground city. The figure quickly disappeared into the darkness without causing any movement. The psychic clock has turned three times, and it's time for a food break. Our demon friends are sitting around on the hollow rock in the Three Rings settlement. The cave dwellers are on guard at the mouth of the rock, quietly eating moss. The earthenware bowl contains fresh fish soup from the Everglades. The crystal mushrooms picked from the insect tunnel are blanched and fresh. The starch cake is coated with a thin layer of sugar paste, which is sweet and warm. No one spoke loudly, just chatting softly about their daily life: some people said that after the dome is completed, they would carve rock flowers in their inner rooms; some people hoped that the starch crops in the insect tunnel would be harvested more abundantly, so that they could produce more sugar; some people softly mentioned the caravan, hoping to bring back news from the outside world, and looking forward to more wandering ethnic groups coming to the underground city to take root and live together. They enjoy the peace of not having to wander at the moment, loving every piece of cast stone and every ray of life in the underground city, and quietly thinking about the future: this emerging underground city will become bigger and bigger, and their residence will become warmer and warmer. There will no longer be displacement, only stability. This love for the underground city is never spoken out, but it is hidden in every meticulous repair, every carefully cultivated crop, and every carefully crafted appliance. After the meal break, the work began again smoothly. The dome in the central ring has been repaired, the cast stones are tightly joined, and the spiritual bone supports are as stable as ever; the parts in the forge are neatly stacked; the racks in the insect tunnel are covered with crystal fungi; the rock pottery pots in the sugar workshop are filled with new paste; and in the distant path, Karen's caravan is carefully traveling on the rugged and dangerous road, quietly inquiring for news, and quietly spreading the news about the underground city's whereabouts. Yaqi stood under the repaired dome, looking at the warm cyanobacterial fluorescence deep in the underground city, and gently stroked the smooth fused stone wall with his fingertips. There are no waves of wandering, only peace of mind. They guarded this newborn "baby", caring for every inch of its texture, hoping that the Youjing Business Road would bring more news about wanderers, and that this underground city would become a home for all wanderers. The hidden path in the heart is dangerous, and the underground rock city is warm. In ordinary daily life, it is the cherishment of the present and the gentle imagination of the future.