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Carey did not sing the songs of the elves, which were beautiful but only of the elves, and he chose a salute that was so well known, that almost every bard had to sing first and last when he arrived in a place, to the gods, to the local people, to the seasons, to the land, to Morrell, the god of singing, and to the unborn babies, which even the humblest slaves had heard and sung about.

“...... As soon as your hand touches the handle of the plough and the whip falls on the back of the plough that is pulling the plough with the yoke, you are to pray with all your heart to the Cranmo of Hades, to the holy Chati, for a bountiful harvest of grain in the sacred land. Let the young slaves follow, and bury the seeds with a hoe, so that the birds and finches will be difficult to peck. Careful management of mortals is the most beneficial, and the promise of disaster is poor management......"

The tone of this song is so straight, there is no gorgeous drag or devilish rapid jumping, and the content of the lyrics is even more uneventful, there is no princess, The warrior, devoid of magic and adventure, is as dull and shriveled as a sun-dried mushroom root in the mouth of some mediocre minstrels, but the song of the elves is so clear, so bright, it is like a new river leaping in the sun, and like a vast forest shouting in the wind, every syllable he sings is full of respect for the good god and love for nature, admiration for life, and people can't help but yearn for it.

"If the god of Gulaba gives you a happy ending, the ripe ears of wheat will hang crooked to the ground, and you will be able to drive away all the spiders from the urn......"

They listened, listened, the loss of goods, the coldness of the cave, the pain of the body and the fear and panic of their hearts seemed to have flapped their wings away, as if they had returned home, as if they were walking on the smooth road again, they held the wine bottles in their hands, leaned against each other, and they followed the elf in a low voice: "In that unpleasant summer, Jerusalem artichoke bloomed, and only the mantis fell on the tree and sang loudly, and the wings squeaked incessantly. At this time, the goat's meat is the fattest and the wine is the most mellow, the woman is debauched, and the man is fragile and powerless—the sun burns his head and knees, and his skin is dried up by the heat. At this time, I wish there would be a shade under the cliffs, with mead and ale, a bowl of goat's milk, a pancake, a piece of meat from a shepherd cow or a lamb in the forest, and sit in the shade and drink the wine...... When he had eaten and drunk, he turned around and turned his face to the fresh west wind, and three times he took water from a mountain spring that flowed all year round and was crystal clear, and offered the sake to the gods the fourth time......"

The one-eyed mercenaries sat about ten paces away from them, and the merchants and apprentices did not trust the flat-bottomed ship like a plank floating on the water, and in order to prevent themselves from accidentally falling, they crossed and weaved a fishing net with a large hole in the ropes that held the goods in place, and then slipped into it one by one, holding the rope in their hands to feel at ease, the mercenaries, mages, and rangers refused their kindness, and people like them would only be more dangerous than safer to confine themselves to one place.

The middle-aged mercenary and the sleepy guy also sat with him, the three of them back to back, each facing in one direction, the middle-aged mercenary couldn't help but play with a short sword that had just been found from the corpse, its blade was steel, and the handle was lavishly inlaid with gold and precious stones— Although most of the guards were killed by mages and elves, either of them gave up their loot, and the merchants certainly did not dare to take a beak, so the biggest winner of this small battle became One-Eye, who wisely and generously gave some of it to his two peers, and anyway, there was still some way to go.

"Do you think what's going to happen next?" asked the mercenary, who had his eyes closed and seemed to be dozing off again.

"Who knows, fate is more fickle than Biaozi," One-Eye muttered in a smaller voice, "All we can do is survive until it is willing to favor us." He looked up at the top of the cavern, where sparse glowing moss grew, and he calculated that every fifteen paces there was one, shaped like a wet mark smeared by a giant's hand, which ensured that no part of the boat would be shrouded in darkness as it went down the narrow waterway—perhaps they were indeed the fruit of a giant's labor.

The lich saw much more than the one-eyed, and the mortal eye could see very little in the faint light of the moss, but he could get more information from the light of the sand in the sea— The dwarf ship had no rudder, it was set in a fixed direction, only forward and backward, and the waterway it traveled, like the dark channel they dived into, had been artificially polished and excavated, and the most peculiar thing was that the waterway for the boat to sail was cleaner than the one for people to dive, with fewer oysters and aquatic weeds, so that he could see the dense and deep lines of the dark purple smooth rock wall, but there was no trace of regularity in the delicate texture, but it was never natural, just like the moss, they were man-made。

Moss is for lighting, but what are these textures for? He looked at the walls and ceilings on both sides, and everywhere he saw was rough and raw, undulating.

Furt was tied, his legs straight forward, along with a wooden crate full of wine, lest he jump into the water in desperation to escape, and he was placed between the elves and the bow, face to face with the elves, and as soon as Kerriben lifted his bow and arrows, he could shoot him at once— He muttered dejectedly, praying to Woking, then begging for some unknown god, as if the predictable punishment had scared him a little insane, and when the people began to sing to the elves, he sang along, and although no one could understand what he was singing, he managed to unscrew the gem from a certain gem ring with both hands behind his back (thanks to the ranger's deterrent effect on the mercenaries, they seemed to be worried that he would be dissatisfied with their excessive greed), and the gem began to chill after breaking away from the pedestal, and the chill seeped from his palm into his veins, so cold that he couldn't help but shiver。

The lich suddenly remembered that Alva's rime hut had such textures, but they were beautifully decorated on the stone floor, and his mind raced to the books and scrolls that filled room after room in the Mentor's Tower, and he searched quickly in it, this is a need, who needs it, what does it need?

A long black shadow pierced through the shadow cast by the ship.

"Kerryben?!"

He thought about what the textures meant, but there was no need to say it.

The three anacondas, standing as tall as a cavern, placed themselves in the middle of the crowd softly, more abrupt and silent than the mage could appear there by any spell, supporting their large but comparatively slender bodies with their tails, showing the merchants triangular heads and colorful bodies connected below.

Humans screamed hysterically, desperately clutching at the ropes that wrapped around their legs and feet, and they were now like a flock of fish trapped in a net, just waiting for predators to come and pick and choose.

Kerribben's arrow struck a boada in its jaw, and the pain forced it to arch its body and attack, it couldn't close its mouth, and a woman's arm-soft body, steel-like and powerful, and a tail capable of severing masts and pulp.

Kerryben grabbed the tail of the arrow and stabbed forward with force, and Mithril's arrow smoothly pierced the upper jaw of the anaconda and went straight to the brain.

In the midst of the chaos, Furth's low, strange hiss was inconspicuous, and a pair of crooked, scaly claws hugged him tightly and dragged him down, and the merchant kept his mouth shut all the time, and the lich, who had always devoted a small part of his energy to him, threw out a silver string, which wrapped around the merchant's exposed feet, and sank with him into the cold, black water.

A water anaconda spun its body between Kerriben and the spellcaster, perhaps thinking that the white-clad human was a threat to deal with in advance, and the idea was quite correct, the lich pulled out a scroll and tore it open, and the magic missile hit its body accurately, the anaconda burst through the air, white flesh and bone stubble and dark red blood splattered everywhere, its head brushing the hull of the ship as it fell, its teeth rattling on the iron rings.

The only anaconda still intact was facing Kerribben, and it was larger than the other two, with yellow circular markings all over its dark green back and abdomen, and its muscles were so strong that it swung as if it were dancing or floating.

Note: The poems sung by Kerry are quoted from "Work and Time" written by Hesiod: the father of Greek didactic poetry on the Chinese Poetry Network, translated by Chen Hongwen, and some of the nouns that do not quite match this article have been modified by the author.

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