After hearing the news brought by Hetty, Gawain did not have the slightest look of surprise: "Is it expected to refuse...... Again, after all, this is at the root of Typhon. ”

"It looks like the wolf general won't cooperate," Hetty stood in front of Gawain's desk, holding a stack of materials in his hand, with a serious expression on his face, "and...... I think she's right: it's not a decision that a commander can make, and Rosetta Augustus has the right to do this level of exchange of benefits. ”

"Of course, it's better to have a decent technical exchange," Gawain smiled, "but this level of technical exchange is difficult to achieve in peacetime, let alone the current tension...... Well, I'm just trying it out, and Andelsa's refusal was expected. ”

Speaking of this, he couldn't help but sigh slightly in his heart: It seems to be the right decision to choose Bard as an intermediary to contact Andessa, and whoever speaks in the past on this sensitive issue may have to make the wolf general's blood pressure full, and if he doesn't do it, he may even fight, and leaving this matter to Bard is to guard against this - theoretically, even if the wolf general's blood pressure is full, he shouldn't be able to do anything with his long-lost old father......

Some boundless associations drifted through his mind, although Hetty didn't know what his ancestor was trying to write, but he could still see that Gawain was a little distracted, she couldn't help but cough lightly, attracting Gawain's attention before continuing: "For now" The mass production of the Transcendental' program is on hold for the time being, and the ongoing program is mainly two-fold, one is to continue to optimize and adjust the equipment and training methods of the Psionic Singer from the technical level, and find ways to reduce its neurological load on the user, and on the other hand, to start selecting matching personnel from among the mages and converting some of the original battle mages into Psionic Singers......

"And in addition to that, Bertila has also proposed a third plan."

"The third option?" Gawain raised his eyebrows, "What about the specifics?" ”

"This is a document from Solinburg, and Berthira has prepared the draft," Hetty said as she placed the Chinese on the table, the expression on her face somewhat strange, "I took a look at it...... How can I say it, it is worthy of the former dark druid, this thing she conceived...... Quite a challenge to people's receptivity. ”

On the first page of the document, a large line of title letters caught his eye: "Application Prospects and Technical Points of the Giant Wet Piece Node in the Field of Auxiliary Spellcasting", and after this line of heading, there is a line of smaller letters: In order to avoid moral and ethical risks, all the wet pieces in the scheme are bred and manufactured by the Thorin Giant Tree itself.

Gao Wen's gaze lingered on these words for several seconds, and then he turned to the follow-up content of the document with a strange feeling—a technical solution that was rigorously worded, detailed and detailed, concise and easy to understand, and even seemed to have reached the point where it could be directly put into practical stage.

Before carefully examining the content of this plan, he couldn't help but first sigh at Bertila's profession as a technician - the original blame for everything...... The Society of the End of Everything should be said to have mastered the most cutting-edge biochemical technology in the history of mankind, even if they are a dark sect, no one can deny that the high-level people in this sect are well-deserved technical talents.

There are not many people in the senior team of the Magic Research Institute who can make such technical documents.

And after such an emotion, Gawain was quickly attracted by the ideas mentioned in the document, and he looked carefully and flipped down, until a vivid concept map appeared in front of him-

A giant brain floating in mid-air, a dizzyingly complex neural connection scheme, a group of soldiers connected together using artificial neural cords and giant brains...... The image is indeed a challenge to the ability of ordinary people to accept "strange things", which seem to be the terrible product of some evil religious ritual that can only be summoned by some evil religious ritual, and Gawain thinks that this thing is simply sane at a glance - but this thing is meant to protect the mind......

At the bottom of this picture, Bertila also deliberately marked a line of small print: a single psionic singer is just an ordinary soldier, and after forming a group, it is a complete "psionic choir".

There is some truth to that...... The premise is that this thing is not so weird," Gawain couldn't help but muttered after seeing the small lines, "A dozen people with nerves behind their heads are flying low over the battlefield around a brain floating in the air, where is this terrifying and weird scene......

As he spoke, he quickly flipped through the diagram and continued to look at the rest of the document, and when he was about to see the end, Hetty on the side asked aloud: "Ancestor, what do you think this plan ......?"

"To be honest, there doesn't seem to be much wrong with it other than being ugly...... Bertila has been in the Dark Sect for over 700 years, and I now wonder if her aesthetic has been completely abolished...... No, it doesn't matter, this plan is indeed valuable, except for ugliness," Gawain frowned, and said with a rather tangled expression, "What's more important is that we don't seem to have much time to waste now, and everything that can come in handy must be used as soon as possible...... But it's still too ugly. ”

"Then ......," Hetty asked, hesitantly, "what is your approval?" ”

"Approved," Gawain said with a sigh as he flipped over the diagram and looked at the schematic again, "Berthira said that most of the process of this solution could be done by herself in a few chambers within the Thorin Giant Tree, and since it wouldn't take up the cost of the existing technical team and facilities, it would be fine for her to give it a try...... It's still a bit ugly. ”

Hetty took down Gawain's instructions, put away the documents with a blank expression, and felt that the old ancestor might not be able to get over this hurdle......

At this moment, the magic net terminal next to the desk suddenly made a sound and flash, finally interrupting the swirling words in Gawain's mind, who quickly woke up from the impact of the technical documents, quickly sorted out his expression, and connected to the magic net terminal.

There was a slight buzzing sound from the terminal, and then a clear holographic projection appeared in the sky, and Yuri's figure appeared in the projection, and he saluted Gawain with a serious expression on his face: "Your Majesty, we have discovered something in the process of analyzing the fragments of the spirit body of Malm Dunit, and we think it is necessary to report it to you." ”

"You're on Naretir's side?" Gawain blinked, his expression quickly becoming serious, "What did you find?" ”

Yuri nodded, and immediately began to report the clues he and Magnum, Naretil, and the others had just discovered, while Gawain listened intently from behind his desk—his expression becoming more serious as Yuri's report continued.

……

On Typhon's northwestern frontier, in the area of the Winterwolf Castle front, the air still smells pungent with the waste energy generated by the release of large-scale spells wandering between the plains and river valleys.

A heavy snowfall had briefly covered the scorching battlefield the other day, burying the land that had been destroyed and burned by artillery fire and magical explosions, but in the face of the flames of war, this soothing thing of nature was finally torn apart - the war machines made of steel and the soldiers in frenzy were untouched, and after a high-intensity battle, another land was burned to the ground.

The Cecils retreated for the time being, and Typhon's troops began to clear the scorched earth.

A Typhon officer, dressed in light black armor and covered with a heavy coat, walked on the still-scorching battlefield, the ground beneath his feet muddy and cold. Cecil's explosives tossed over almost all of the hill's soil, and everywhere the eye could see was ugly black dirt and crumbling stones, oozing red, uncoagulated blood, or mixed with mutilated human remains, and only a few corners of the hill could still see a little white of the snow - the white mixed with the black and red background stood out to the point of glaring.

The smell in the air was disgusting—the officer had been on the battlefield for a long time, but the smell that permeated the battlefield was something he hadn't smelled anywhere else, not only blood, but more, more pungent things.

The soldiers were busy near him, some were sorting out and recovering the materials that could still be used, some were collecting the corpses that could still be collected, and some of them took out the prayer books they carried with them, praying and requieving to their respective gods, and the officers frowned, stepped past the soldiers who were cleaning the battlefield, and continued to walk forward.

Eventually, he stopped beside a boulder blackened by artillery fire—it might not have been, but a destroyed fortification—where a dying man was falling, like a clump of curled and wriggling sludge between snow and blood.

The officer half-crouched down and looked at the Typhon soldier who was struggling to breathe, judging by the remaining clothing signs on the other party's body, he should be a member of the 11th Regiment of the National Knights, a knight of a lower rank - the soldier lay in the dirt, and he couldn't even see how many wounds there were, only a large amount of blood that had glued him to the surrounding land. His fatal wound was a massive laceration in the chest and abdomen, either from a flying fragment of a cannonball, or from a sharp flying stone, which, for whatever reason, had apparently cut off the soldier's life.

In fact, if it were a "normal" human being, it would have been a long time ago.

The officer lowered his head, his gaze swept between the wounds of the other, and among the filthy blood, he saw a little wriggling granulation and tentacles—these disgusting hypertrophies were stretching in vain, as if trying to close the wounds again, trying to gather all the blood that had been lost, but these efforts were doomed to be futile, and judging by their increasingly faint wriggling amplitude, it was clear that this "god-given power" had come to an end.

Maybe he sensed that there was someone nearby, or maybe he happened to be in time to return to the light, and the next second, the soldier who fell to the ground and was about to exhale his last breath suddenly opened his eyes, his cloudy, crazy eyes were glowing with a terrible blood red, but he could barely see the figure in front of him, and a weak voice came from the soldier's mouth: "Sir...... Sir......"

The officer looked at him and whispered something he had been saying a lot these days: "Hold on, the medics are coming." ”

"No...... No need to ......" the soldier murmured, his head swaying in imperceptible motion, "the Lord is calling me, already calling me......"

The officer looked at the soldier with a blank face, listening to the murky whispers of the other party as he was dying, and did not say anything to comfort him, nor did he continue to do anything of encouragement.

The soldier's whisper became more and more faint and deeper, but suddenly, a little light appeared in those blood-red eyes, and the last of his strength seemed to gather again, and he stared at the commander beside him, asking over and over again as if he were mad: "Have you witnessed?" Have you witnessed...... Have you witnessed ......?"

The officer looked at him and said slowly, "Yes, I testified." ”

The soldier breathed a sigh of relief, as if his last wish had been granted, and the light in his eyes quickly dimmed, whether it was a madly distorted light or a human light. The deflated chest squeezed out his last breath and sent out a sigh: "I think...... It's a bit cold......"

After a moment of silence, the officer stood up, and an accompanying assistant mage stepped forward, and after a brief examination, reported to him: "The soul has dissipated, and the activity of the heart, lungs, and brain has stopped. ”

"Burn it," the officer nodded, "remember to retrieve the badge." ”

He looked up at the rest of the position, and he saw that more auxiliary mages were entering the position, and not far away, a large circle for centralized incineration was already operational.

……

Standing among the mountains, the Winter Castle is a fortress as white as ice, as its name suggests.

On a clear day, from the highest tower of Winterhold, you can see the fortress of Winterwolf in the distance.

The fortress is owned by the powerful battle mage Count Parin Wintercastle, who and his family have been rooted in the mountains of the north for centuries, serving as an important backing and support for the Winterwolf Castle defense, and after the fall of Winterwolf, the battlefield was advanced to Typhon, which was originally located on the second line of defense...... At this moment, it has become the core node of the forefront.

In a room on the third floor of the White Castle, the Earl of Winter Castle was standing in front of a white wall inlaid with precious magic crystals, and the wall was coated with a layer of magic plating that seemed to flow like mercury.

It was an image sent by the mage's eyes at various points of the Winter Fortress Line through the teleportation tower, and although slightly distorted, it was still able to distinguish the characteristic mountains, rivers, and woodlands. Parin Dongburg waved his arm, constantly switching between the images on the walls, confirming the situation at various points in the defensive line.

Suddenly, Count Wintercastle's inspection of the node stopped, and he tilted his head slightly, listening to the report from a junior mage through teleportation, and then he looked at the magic wall in front of him, and after a simple sigil gesture, a new image appeared on the wall.

It was somewhere in the Winterhold fortress—a black magical train with the Typhon coat of arms slowing down and coming to a halt next to a brand new platform.

Despite the absence of a large number of Cecil technicians, thanks to the efforts of the Empire's own team of mechanics and scholars, several important industrial and military railways were still in normal operation, and this train from the interior to Winterhold was one of them.

Parin Dongburg stood there, quietly staring at the picture on the wall, watching the train come to a stop, watching the soldiers and officers step from the train onto the platform.

He sighed slightly.

Another group of fanatical and excellent corpses stepped out of the troop carrier.