At the top of the ruins is a platform made of stone masonry, with a radius of three feet. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 After jumping on the platform, the info library box was already out of breath, and it was used to the limit of speed in a short period of time, and the physical energy was consumed a lot in an instant.

The scrivener jumped on the platform and immediately saw something very abrupt: a man lying on his back on the side, without a sound, as if he was dead.

The scrivener is not surprising, he has experienced too many deaths, comrades and enemies, and has long been strange to corpses. The corpse was dressed in a Japanese military uniform, and another Japanese soldier died. The scrivener subconsciously walked over, and suddenly broke out in a cold sweat, saying that it was a skeleton or a skeleton intact in the military uniform, which was indescribably weird. The skeleton has not existed for a long time, and there are still blood stains and minced flesh stuck to many places, which is indescribably disgusting.

How so? The flesh and skin of the corpse are gone, but the military uniform on the outside is intact, what kind of attack can cause such trauma? Even if the scrivener has been through a hundred battles, he can't help but feel furious in his heart, and the strange bones are beyond his comprehension.

Spears and backpacks were thrown aside, and it was clear that the dead were sentinels, standing on guard at the vantage point of the ruins, and then turned into a skeleton. The result doesn't matter, what the scrivener cares about is the process, what terrible things happened, a living sentry turned into a skeleton in an instant.

Where did the rest go? The scrivener went to the other side of the ruins, and it is likely that the Japanese and the natives went to the same place. The back of the ruins is still in ruins, with huge stones lying horizontally and vertically, and the carvings on the surface have long been blurred by the years. The scrivener carefully searched for clues, and there were many gaps between the stones. You can't get through the cracks, do you? The scrivener is looked for more carefully.

There are too many gaps, and the slightly larger ones can almost accommodate people to enter and exit, and the scrivener box is a little big, so it's no wonder that wizards still have to measure calculations against the sun. As he walked down from the platform, the stone was washed clean by the heavy rain, and there was no sign of freshness. The scrivener box is still being searched, and more than twenty people have disappeared out of thin air, leaving no trace of it.

The scrivener continued to go down, about ten meters away from the platform, and one place caught his attention. On the corners of the stones hung a small strip of cloth, so small that it was almost imperceptible, and a few strands of twine intertwined horizontally and vertically indicated that it was a strip of linen.

That's it, the scrivener leaned over to take a closer look. The three stones intersect with each other to form a triangular opening, which cannot be penetrated in the dark. The scrivener hesitated for a moment, but decided to go in and have a look, of course, if there was an ambush inside, he would be stabbed nine times out of ten. But it's nothing for a scrivener who walks back and forth many times on the line of death. He lifted his backpack above his head and slowly leaned inside.

The inside of the gap is not very spacious, just allowing a person to crawl. After a few meters, the direction of the gap begins to go up, a few meters later it begins to go down, and after a few meters it begins to extend in parallel. The scrivener kept crawling along the way of the gap, the heat was blocked, and the surroundings were gloomy and cold. The light was refracted through some small crevice, and it was not very dim, barely able to see a few meters away.

The stone wall is very damp, and there are water stains everywhere when you touch your hands. At the end of the front, a large square pit with a side length of three meters appeared directly below, and it was bottomless. The cold air swished upwards, and the scrivener shivered unconsciously, as if it was a passage to hell.

Everybody went down? The scrivener couldn't figure out how others got down, there were no ropes nearby, and there were no ladders. Is it possible to jump straight down? The scrivener wondered if it would go down. At this time, there was a slight noise behind him, and someone came in. If you really want to fight in a small space, you will inevitably lose both.

There's no choice now, so let's jump. The scrivener jumped off the abyss with a swoop of his legs. The light suddenly dimmed, and a very serious question suddenly came to mind in the scrivener, how to go up? The thought was only for a moment, and the person fell into the water with a poof.

Use your hands and feet together to expose your head to the water. The current was fast, washing people into the distance. He groped around with his hands, trying to get ashore. The stones on the side were slippery and couldn't be dragged at all. People rushed straight down with the rushing water, and the scrivener struggled desperately to get his head out of the water. The river rushed away, and I didn't know where to take him. Occasionally, the river would turn and my body would hurt against the rock wall. I don't know how far it was washed out by the water, a few kilometers or a dozen kilometers.

There was another sharp bend in his face, and his forehead slammed into the stone wall, and the pain in his heart spread throughout his body, followed by a wave of dizziness. The scrivener sank to the bottom of the river and actually drank a few sips of water.

Fortunately, the river immediately calmed down and formed a shoal, and people were carried to the shoal by the river. The scrivener struggled to get up, went ashore first, and sat on the ground coughing the water in his stomach. It took a while to recover, and when I looked up, it was all empty and monotonous darkness.

Where, is this an underground river? It is not surprising that there are underground rivers, the vast Savage Mountain rivers are dense, and it rains almost every day, so the existence of underground rivers is completely reasonable.

The scrivener sat on the ground to sort out the equipment, the sniper rifle had long sunk to the bottom, but fortunately, the backpack was still there, and there was hope with it. He pulled out the pistol from his waist, and safety was guaranteed with it.

The scrivener groped for a way out, and soon found that a cave was extending in an unknown direction, with slippery walls and obvious traces of artificial masonry. Traces of ancient civilization have come here and are still stretching down. He groped his way forward, and soon there was some light.

"What's going on? It's at least a hundred meters underground, how can there be light? The scrivener is a little enlightened, and his perception of Savage Mountain is being subverted, which is not only desolate and barbaric, but also unknown ancient civilizations. When I looked up, there was a bright line hanging overhead.

"A glimmer of heaven." The scrivener secretly marveled, it can be called the best in the "first line of sky", the bottom and the top of the valley are full of 500 meters high, or even higher. Looking up from the valley floor, the canyon crack overhead is a thin line like a hair. The magic of the art, the word pales in the face of the word, is simply the most outstanding work that God has given to mankind.

You don't have to think about going back the way you came, you can only go forward. The cracks in the mountain are not wide, and the five people walking side by side are not rich, and the black hole is endless. Ancient civilizations and nature's masterpieces come together. The scrivener felt small, like a firefly facing the endless starry sky compared to the masterpieces of ancient civilization and nature.

From the rock mass on both sides, some hairy and sloppy things hung down, wisps by wisp, and the itching on the neck was particularly uncomfortable. The scrivener didn't pay much attention at first, tilting his head and trying to hide. Later, there were more and more of these things, and they were intertwined into one big net after another. Having to attract his attention, the scrivener took out the lighter from his backpack and looked carefully with the help of the faint light of the fire, as if the roots of many big trees stretched down, some thick and some fine hairs.