Chu Feng said that he had seen this text, but it was only a judgment or speculation. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

Because he hadn't seen any of those strange characters before, but he had seen other strange characters in the same style. Whether it was the style of the words or the layout of the words, they were all exactly the same, and with the experience and knowledge that Chu Feng had accumulated over the years, he could conclude that these words belonged to the same language.

The place where that text appeared was the small world where Yi Xie Tianzun was imprisoned, the ancient stone tablet.

At that time, Chu Feng naively thought that the stele would react to him, but unfortunately, the stele ignored Chu Feng's existence at all.

Despite this, Chu Feng still wrote down all the words of unknown meaning on the stone tablet, hoping that one day, he might be able to recognize the meaning of these words, and he might be able to decipher a secret of ancient times.

But from that time to now, it has been almost half a year, and Chu Feng still doesn't understand what those words mean, just to the extent that he has seen them.

Such an ancient text, so old that it is not even recorded in the 100,000-year-old ancient books of the Six Realms of Chu Feng, but it will appear on a scroll more than three thousand years ago, and the secrets in it are worth pondering.

But this deep reflection is destined to not get any practical results, so several people were only slightly shocked, and then did not pursue the story again.

Since the scroll of hope did not help, there was only one last resort: to awaken the remaining wisp of thought of the dryad god and communicate with it.

The seven levels were controlled by Rouge, and the cane was naturally returned to Sango, and Chu Feng could only hand over the wooden whip to Yan Shisan's hand because his cultivation was completely useless, and then Chu Feng obediently stood on the periphery, waiting to see the three of them urging the magic weapon in their hands - he suddenly remembered that he still had a wooden chair, so he took out the wooden chair as well.

"This ......" Coral looked at the wooden chair and frowned slightly, the wooden chair gave her a special feeling...... It has something that looks like a tree god, but it's obviously not a tree god, and what does this wooden chair have to do with the tree god?

Coral had the heart to ask, but time was a little too late - no one knew when the Nalingen would bloom, so they had to solve the matter as soon as possible anyway - to awaken the remaining consciousness of the tree god, and to find out what should be done from the residual consciousness of the tree god.

Rouge held the seven levels that had already sprouted green shoots, Coral raised the smooth and shiny cane with one hand, and Yan Thirteen silently clenched the wooden whip.

The three of them each occupied a direction, and then at the same time injected their true qi into the magic weapon in their hands, the seven levels were as transparent as jade, the cane was like an infinite sea, and the wooden whip was blooming like an eternal night.

The dead tree surrounded by the center began to tremble slightly, and under the illumination of the three-color light, it also spit out an extremely ethereal yellow light, which was even weaker than the most faint cane in the three magic weapons, and could only illuminate a distance of half a foot, and then this yellow light gradually stretched out, and gradually turned into an old and withered yellow face, like a wooden mask, with exaggerated facial features and sunken eye sockets, as if it was a pitch-black abyss, and there was no light to see.

The face covered with the texture of the skin of the trees slowly opened its mouth, and when it opened its mouth, it was an ancient chant, low and hoarse, bleak and sad, as if it was a funeral song that had been sung for countless years, singing for the years, singing everything that had been buried in the torrent of time, singing about the past that had been forgotten by everyone, and proving to the world that at least there were people who remembered this ballad and remembered those pathos.

In the old voice, a sweet timbre suddenly sounded, sweet and immature, crisp and clean, like a spring water dingdong, like a ring, dusty.

The hoarse voice and the sound of Qingyue sing and harmonize, as if it is a concerto between the sunset and the cold moon, there is a huge gap, but it is perfectly coordinated, and the vicissitudes of the sea and the smoke and dust of the years are sung vividly, and the song is full of vicissitudes.

As the singing gradually stopped, Chu Feng wiped the corners of his eyes that were a little irrepressible and moist, and then looked at the face and coral of Shicai's singing.

This song was probably taught to the mermaids when the tree god was still alive. After so many years, the merman clan still remembers this ancient long tune, and if the tree god has a spirit, he will probably be a little relieved.

"You're here, but there's nothing you can do......" The face didn't open its mouth, but the hoarse voice floated in the air, like a burst of thunder, "Let's go, it's too late......"

The face didn't give a few people a chance to talk and ask for communication, and as a wisp of residual thought, he seemed to have lost his basic logic and fell into chaos, just repeating the babbling repeater, repeating "he's coming back", repeating "it's too late", and hitting everyone again and again, as if things had really reached the point of no return.

Several people looked at each other, not knowing who "he" was talking about in the remaining wisp of consciousness of the tree god, and they didn't know who the treacherous person he cursed was.

"He's on his way back......" the dryad repeated again, "it's too late......"

Yan Shisan was silent for a long time before he sighed leisurely - too many things were doomed to failure, they lived in a chaotic era, even if they were running around with all their might, they couldn't extinguish the raging flames burning on the land of the entire Six Realms.

What's more, now the two forces that should have been hidden in the darkness have gradually surfaced, for the sake of the instrument called the silence, for the grievances of the other world, a tragic war broke out - the war is still going on, and more people are needed to go to the battlefield - Yan Shisan doesn't know how many people will die this time, let alone how many people he and his comrades will come back alive.

Perhaps Yang Wenqin is right, this era is indeed an era of despair, they have sacrificed everything, and they cannot undo it all - everything should be over, whether it is them or the world.

"It's not too late. A female voice, suddenly traversing tens of thousands of miles, like a sharp sword, came across the sky, "I'm here - although it's late, but I've kept my promise, and I'm back." ”

The four of them were shocked, and they followed the prestige, thousands of miles away, on the wasteland, a figure walked slowly, with monstrous fierce flames, and was arrogant.

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