Drilling into the hole, it was dark all around, and there were no fingers to be seen.

As the stone wall behind him closed tightly, the unbearable rancid smell immediately accumulated. Moriarty had to do his best to compress the amplitude of each breath. Otherwise, if not from the flames outside, he feared that he would die of poisoning.

But at this moment, there was a sudden "snapping" sound of flint hitting beside him. Immediately, a little light broke the darkness. Moriarty immediately followed the light and saw that Gonzalez had an extra torch in his hand. And the light on the torch turned out to be blue, like a phosphorus fire floating in a cemetery.

"Keep walking." Holding White on his shoulder, Gonzaleth took the lead with a torch in hand. I don't know if it's because the space is closed, Gonzalez's footsteps sounded particularly dull, as if stepping on a hard coffin.

Following the cyan light in front of him, Moriarty walked briskly, observing his surroundings as he could.

It was a narrow tunnel with a clear height of two meters, and even Gonzalez could only keep his head down as he walked forward. The upper and lower sides are made of rock bricks, just like the stone wall with a mysterious mechanism, which is completely man-made. The terrain of the tunnel is sloping down and is very long. As Moriarty walked, he had the illusion of stepping into the underworld.

Because the bronze torch had limited light, Moriarty couldn't see what lay ahead of the road. But there was no doubt that the increasingly strong smell of decay was wafting from the unknown darkness ahead.

Going down the tunnel, neither Gonzalez nor Moriarty spoke, as if they were worried that they might disturb some of the undead who were sleeping underground. There are only two sets of monotonous footsteps, one in front and one behind, like a mechanical pendulum.

After walking for about ten minutes, Moriarty believed that he had gone some way underground, when suddenly Gonzalez stopped in front of him.

"Next, whatever you see, I ask you to remain silent." Without looking back, Gonzalez muttered.

"Okay."

Continue to walk, and the long tunnel finally comes to an end. Ahead, there is a huge dark space. From a distance, it seems that countless floating points of light can be seen roaming irregularly in it, like homeless outcasts.

Without waiting for Moriarty, Gonzalez stepped inside. Moriarty, on the other hand, stayed at the entrance of the space, his gaze slowly extending into the depths of darkness with the light of the bronze torch.

As if sensing the intrusion of fresh breath, when the light of the torch continued to move deeper, those points of light that had been scattered around the space gathered as if they had seen old friends who had been reunited after a long absence. At the same time, more points of light slowly lit up as if they had awakened from a dead slumber, and then floated in the direction of Gonzalez. In the end, all these points of light directly converged into a large hazy rotating band of light, centered on the bronze torch, illuminating the entire space.

And with this precious light, Moriarty also saw the cruel truth hidden behind the boundless darkness for the first time.

Corpses, countless flesh and bones, countless stumps and broken bodies, like broken building block toys, were piled up, overlapped, and compressed at random. Layer by layer, string by string, piece by piece, it fills the entire field of view of Moriarty, and there is no end in sight.

For some reason, at this moment, Moriarty's mind suddenly flashed images of the jungle and the ocean one after another. It's just that the jungle is a jungle of dry bones, and the countless black arms that struggle to reach into the air are "lush branches and leaves"; The ocean is a sea of death, and the steaming mist of decay is "the waves that never stop."

Moriarty watched the qiē silently, his hands slowly clenched. …,

Perhaps because of the confined space, almost all of the corpses were decomposed, but they were not boneless. Cracked flesh and dull hairs tightly enveloped each corpse, revealing a thrilling jet-black color, even darker than hell.

With just a cursory glance, Moriarty could clearly discern from the corpses which belonged to men, which belonged to women, which were still immature children, and which were old people who were already dying.

The Grim Reaper is like the best painter who freezes all the moments on a tragic day.

With a deep sigh, Moriarty stepped into the nameless cemetery.

As agreed with Gonzalez, Moriarty walked silently through a labyrinth of solitude made of death, with a light, slow pace and a dull gaze.

As if fearing that Moriarty would be lost in the dead silence of the great tomb, the bronze torch stopped and waited after a distance on its own. Moriarty, on the other hand, seemed to be unaware, and continued to walk step by step. Behind him, a vague back trailed behind, caressing the rotten torsos, severed hands and feet, and withered heads one by one, until they became longer and longer.

"Smack!"

Suddenly, a dry sound broke the silence in the space.

Moriarty stopped and looked up, only to see a round black figure tumbling down from a pile of intertwined and twisted limbs not far ahead. Then, following an invisible trail, it rolled slowly until it hit the tip of Moriarty's shoe, and finally stopped.

Moriarty silently looked at his feet, then bent down, stretched out his hands, and held them up.

It was a child's head, black-gray, hard, and as small as a melon. On the small faces that can no longer distinguish between men and women, the two deep-set eye sockets are hollow, as if leading to a bottomless abyss. The thin lips were almost gone, and only two rows of uneven teeth leaked out, slightly open, as if they were still talking.

Looking at the wreckage in his hand, Moriarty involuntarily leaned forward slowly, as if to whisper to the poor child. But in the end, he stopped stiffly halfway through, unable to say another word.

There was silence for a few more moments before Moriarty lowered his arms, then took off his robe, carefully wrapped the child's head inside, tied it tightly, and finally put it back at his feet.

"Let's go!" At this moment, Gonzalez's deep voice came from the front.

Moriarty then stood up and exhaled heavily, his expression gloomy. Time did not allow him to linger any longer, and after a silent farewell, Moriarty stepped lightly over the child and walked forward.

When Moriarty came to his side, Gonzalez looked at the other man silently for a moment, then opened his mouth, but did not say anything. Then he turned around and moved on.

Although it was only for a moment, Moriarty could see Gonzalez's silent mouth.

It was: "Thank you..."

On the rest of the journey, a lonely sadness haunted Gonzalez and Moriarty. Coincidentally, both of them lowered their heads slightly, as if they didn't want their eyes to touch anything around them.

And those small points of light like fireflies, after following the light of the bronze torch for a long time, finally seemed to have exhausted all their strength, slowly scattered, and once again reluctantly returned to the infinite darkness.

In the space, only the cyan glow of the torch remained.

After walking for about a quarter of an hour, Gonzalez and Moriarty finally left the great tomb and entered another upward walkway. Unlike the previous entry, this walkway has a steep slope, almost close to a 60-degree elevation angle. Fortunately, the ground is not so flat, so you can borrow some force when climbing. …,

At first, Gonzalez seemed a little worried that Moriarty's body would not be strong enough to support him through the climb, as mages were known for their physical weakness. However, much to the surprise of this powerful warrior, Moriarty did not have any intention of asking for help. Instead, he relied entirely on himself, closely following Gonzalez's upward pace, never falling behind in the slightest.

In this regard, Gonzalez couldn't help but cheer for Moriarty from the bottom of his heart. It's just that he didn't know how hard Moriarty had worked hard every day for most of the previous six months, whether it was rain or shine, there was never a day of interruption. What Gonzalez didn't know was that at this time, Moriarty already had the strength of a first-class warrior, and it was the strict Hamilton knight who made this decision.

Perhaps, some people will despise the so-called first-class fighters, thinking that they are just the lowest level of warriors and are not worth mentioning. But in reality, the first-class soldier is the watershed between an ordinary sergeant and a real professional. After about three months of basic training, a civilian can basically meet the requirements of a recruit and become a junior sergeant. However, if you want to grow from a sergeant to a first-class soldier, you must have a significant improvement in physical fitness and combat skills. If you have to make a simple comparison, under the same conditions of holding weapons, a first-level warrior can roughly defeat or even kill five ordinary sergeants without taking much damage himself.

Therefore, it can be imagined that it is not easy for Moriarty, as a mage apprentice, to have the level strength of a first-level warrior at the same time. But there is always a reward for the effort, and in Moriarty's plan, the first-tier warrior is far from the end.

After three minutes of non-stop climbing, Gonzalez and Moriarty landed on a small platform.

Calming his breath, Moriarty looked inside the platform, only to see that it was empty, except for a closed iron door standing on the stone wall at the innermost point of the platform.

As if sensing something, Moriarty slowly held his breath. Then, a faint breeze blew through a narrow gap under the iron gate, through the other side of the stone wall, and then to Moriati's fingertips.

You can't be wrong, behind the iron gate should be the outside world.

Without further ado, Gonzalez inserted the bronze torch into a hole in the wall on one side of the platform, and strode to the iron door, reaching out and holding the protruding ring on the door.