"Your way of expressing it is quite unique......" Madrigal actually believed. He devoted himself to the study of the "membrane". He discovered that the power of the "film" could help him spread the light particles into a "light film", and the light film could "disappear" when the light film was added. The "Vanishing Technique" that Shuna has cultivated so hard can be easily completed by just consuming the "membrane".

Curious about the treasure, the madrigal went so far as to collect the membrane by the mural and casually told the trembling priests, "Yes, I will come every year to collect your love." ”

The priests thought that the god of shepherds was crazy, and they kept fishing for the air. But for them, it was a grace for the shepherd god not to be angry. So they all thanked the girl who was in a hurry, and thanked her for solving the question that the priesthood could not answer with a lie.

Madrigal walked around the pyramid and collected all the membranes for war. The wonderful thing is that after he collected the membrane, the inner universe also underwent earth-shaking changes: the original scattered light and dust, as if pulled by an invisible thread, began to slowly rotate around the central solar core, and finally fell into the solar core, making it grow stronger and stronger, like a large vortex of calm and leisure.

This brought about a qualitative leap: the inner universe of Madrigal could only hold 2,800 light dust, and there was no more. Now, the light dust that revolves around the solar core will eventually be absorbed by the solar core, which is equivalent to compressing the light dust into a small solar core, freeing up space for storing light dust.

In other words, the strength of Madrigal is no longer subject to the fleet, and he already has his own "small treasury", which is the Japanese nuclear one. Although a year's "membrane" can only allow the solar core to swallow light dust at the speed of a second hand, the film will grow more and more in the future.

Madrigal was overjoyed, so he said to the priests, "There could be more of this love."

After the "membrane" in the pyramid was collected, the madrigal was impatient and wanted to go outside. As a result, the priesthood knelt down and begged the madrigal to watch the sacrificial dance they had prepared.

Pastoral glanced at it, and the high priest who led the dance was already old, and his chest was about to fall to the ground. He politely declined.

The high priest stalked. I have to dance to show the faun, and I claim to have been preparing for more than a year.

Madrigal managed to get rid of these fanatical middle-aged and elderly admirers, and then patrolled the alluvial plains. Sure enough, because the horns of the Yanxia people resonate with the Demon Eye celestial body, there is the power of "membrane" everywhere in the field. The rhythm of the membrane comes into being when the old man squatting on the ridge of the field teaches his grandson to identify weeds, the characters of the membrane emerge when the young man lying on the stone hums a song of unrequited love, and the power of the membrane erupts when the ingenious craftsman completes the stunning statue. In the distance, there was the sound of a hammer chiseling stone, and the air was filled with merry singing. But wherever there is a membrane, there is laughter and longing, and there is inheritance and innovation.

Is it the membrane that influences people's traditions, or is it the culture that produces membranes? He walked and watched and collected, although the folk membrane was much less than in the pyramid, but he could patrol the progress of civilization by the way.

The matriarch was fairly administrative, and in four quarters of the year, she managed to do exactly four things: she learned farming techniques, cultivated two wide fields of farmland on the fertile alluvial plains, and increased her population.

Although population growth has resumed, the number of the Yanxia tribe will definitely not be able to catch up with the land of Dead Winter.

Pastoral pondered carefully. He remembered that the Land of Dead Winter was deep in the jungle and difficult to dig for its veins, so it used hardwood weapons made of stone, and used serrations and arrows to hurt people. In order to prevent them from being slaughtered again after the truce ended, Madrigal felt that it would be better for the Xia to master the smelting technology. If the Xia people use simple bronze tools, both productivity and combat effectiveness will go to a higher level, and they may be able to fight their way out in the competition for civilization.

Although it would be painful for Madrigal to teach himself metallurgical knowledge, if he taught the Xia people metallurgy, they might be able to master it in three to five years.

So he returned to the pyramids, gathered men, women, and children, and issued an oracle that skilled craftsmen should be selected to learn to identify ores, smelt bronze, and forge production tools and ordnance.

Unexpectedly, the first reaction of the priestly group was panic.

"Fall out of favor......" The high priest urn was angry, and his soul was lost.

"The gods don't like to see the soft dance of the sacrifice, he prefers strong muscular ......," the girl who was designated as the next patriarch thoughtfully said. She found that she could gain the favor of the god of the shepherd by spreading the wings of her imagination......, so she tried to open her mind: "Do you want to recruit strong men, apply them with oil, and wrestle them with each other to please the god of the shepherd?" No, he'll be pleased!"

Fortunately, the matriarch vetoed this philosophical line.

"The priesthood must remain pure and can only recruit women. The matriarch insisted on the principle that "men are valuable laborers and cannot hold the priesthood." ”

"Maybe I should go to work and build strong muscles to please the Faun......" the girl's train of thought drifted to the other extreme.

"You can try it. "As long as she can please the faun, the matriarch agrees.

In the second year, a sturdy maiden walked up to Madrigal and performed ritual rituals such as splitting a wooden plank with one hand and breaking a boulder with her elbow with a sweet and lovely face and a tiger's back and waist.

"Who is this?" Madrigal doesn't remember anymore.

"The next patriarch. The old patriarch told the madrigal in a trembling voice.

"Oh. Madrigal looked at the girl. The girl lifted her chin proudly, her solid breasts rising and falling slightly.

"Go lose weight. It's not pretty. Madrigal said, biting down on the grapes.

The girl's heart was full of blasphemous words, but she could not say these words, so she looked at the pastoral song with a blank face.

"When you are old, don't dance the sacrificial dance, let the young priests dance. The god of shepherds instructed without changing his face.

The old priests were not reconciled, they looked at each other, but they did not dare to disobey, and immediately prostrate themselves and prayed, reciting words.

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"Those who stand guard are all cheered up! Even Chang always maintains the field of vision of the defense area, and the deputy flag patrols every half an hour, and I will check it at any time!" Tan Hua shouted hoarsely, and quickly walked through the fortress: "Cancel sleep, repeat! Cancel sleep! Before figuring out where the enemy is coming from! No one is allowed to sleep!"

Tan Hua's eyes were blood-red, bloodshot, and his armor was dull, obviously he hadn't closed his eyes for a few days and nights, and he was on the verge of collapse. Even so, he still didn't dare to slack off and worked hard to rectify military discipline.

Why did Tan Hua work so hard, and he could get a glimpse of it from the eyes of the sentry warrior: fear. Hysterical fear of the unknown.

For the sake of this fear, they even abandoned their sense of superiority and learned to use the steel fortresses built by the rebels, borrowed steel plates to protect themselves, and borrowed radar to scan the wilderness, trying to figure out what was causing the corpses to streak across the field and the heads of the body.

The evaporating screams of the god warriors were a lingering nightmare for them. In just seven or eight days, seventeen people were killed in battle, and Pao Ze died one after another, bringing the strength and will of the Democracy Banner to the brink of collapse.