The clouds drifted away, the sun was like blood, and the sun hanging above the sky sprinkled a few remnants of light onto the earth, painting the last bit of crimson color on this decaying land. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

This is a battlefield and a hell.

Flocks of crows chasing the dead streak through the sky, hungry dingoes and vultures wander from place to place, blood mixed with dirt to form a filthy river, and countless monsters sniff the smell here, and these greedy creatures stand here, watching, listening, longing, and then looking forward to the night.

In the same way, I am looking forward to the beginning of this feast.

What is it that has led to such a fall?

Long Mochen was lying in the center of a corpse, thinking so.

Not far from him was his most loyal servant, the dwarf who was nearly eighty years old but had just come of age, who had blocked the attack for him, but he was choked by a sudden sword, his trachea cut by the sharp steel, and the tuft of brown beard stained red by the gushing blood, so that the heroic 'boy' could no longer laugh heartily.

Beside him lay his wife, who was as white and cold as snow, and the elf was split in half by an axe, and the white bones and broken flesh obliterated the smiling face.

Further afield, lay his concubines, his pets, his mounts, his warriors, his legions, and everything about him.

So what is it that makes you end up like this?

Long Mochen asked himself again, but he was still puzzled.

When he first crossed over, he stumbled by his half-baked knowledge, and although he achieved a little success, he was never able to satisfy his ambition as a time-traveler - until that day, he got the long-overdue 'system'.

As a plug-in for the identity of the traverser, the system is omniscient and omnipotent, whether it is a technology tree or a weapon composition that transcends the times, as long as it pays a certain price - that is, the soul of a mortal, then it will give everything it has, and slowly, in its own territory, schools have been built, factories have been built, armies have been built, countless resources have arrived here through plunder, accompanied by billowing black smoke turned into weapons, and countless prisoners of war and slaves have been absorbed through systematic sacrifices, Eventually, it becomes a book or a stack of thick drawings to add more capital and power to yourself.

But...... And then what?

The dying body was no longer able to support overly complex thinking, and the increasingly chaotic brain struggled to search for the slightest trace of the past.

- By the way, I remembered.

In the beginning, it was the surrounding neighbors united in terror to fend off their own aggression, and the hypocritical Templars and the Shrines chanted demons and heretics, and countless idiots and brains rallied under the banner to launch a massive crusade against themselves.

Of course, this is also in his own expectation - Long Mochen recalled with difficulty - with the support of the system, he wantonly slaughtered the enemy's army and people, the technology was continuously imported into the factory, and then turned into killing equipment to bring more souls, the primitive magic and magic were not worth mentioning under the power of technology, the knights' steel armor and artillery were torn and deformed in the sound of artillery, even the most powerful mages could not resist a bullet fired from the shadows.

But just when he thought he could conquer the world like this, the turning point came suddenly.

At first, it was just a fire, but when it was discovered, it was already like an erupting volcano, unstoppable, unstoppable, revolutionaries appeared one after another, the army was still strong, but it was like falling into a deep quagmire, every place must be plain and clear, every time the butcher's knife just fell, the endless victims came again, they seemed to treat their lives as if they were nothing, holding the most primitive weapons, fighting for their lives, but only leaving a shallow scratch on the cold tank.

-- The system can provide technology, but it cannot provide any means of repression.

At the same time, the enemy has made rapid progress in the war, magic and magic have developed unprecedentedly in the face of adversity, ammunition can no longer penetrate the wave energy barrier, the chariot has turned into molten iron in the flames of thousands of degrees Celsius, and the industry has reached the barrier, even though he has the blueprint of the Star Destroyer, he cannot find any personnel and workshops that can realize it.

And then there was the stalemate, the counteroffensive, and finally the incomparably tragic rout ....

The memory came to an abrupt end.

"No, I'm not a traverser..... I'm not sure to be the final winner......" Even though the thinking has begun to collapse, a heavy unwillingness is still frustrated in my heart. This is not in line with the script...... Not in line with the ...... of the time-traveling novel"

- Nothing that doesn't fit, little one.

In the dead silence of the battlefield, a voice suddenly came.

The sound was hollow, flat, like a machine.

Long Mochen used his last bit of strength, turned his head, and looked in the direction of the sound—there, his 'plug-in', which was also his beginning—the system, an ordinary iron box, was lying quietly in the bloodstains.

A burst of unbelievable joy came suddenly.

"How could it be....no, sure enough, I absolutely—"

"Heh, don't be happy yet, I know what you're thinking." Scattered ripples rippled in the void, as if in the blink of an eye, the 'system' that had always been as hard as steel shattered piece by piece, centered on the wreckage, a figure quickly condensed, and then steadily stepped forward.

"I'm not here to save you, nor am I here to give you another chance to do it again, as you think." It was still a flat and waveless tone, and due to the viewing angle, Long Mochen couldn't see the specific appearance of the figure, and could only vaguely judge from the thick legs that this should be a man. "I'm only here to destroy all the evidence, and then tell you that you've failed, you're eliminated, so hurry up and die."

The figure kicked Long Mochen's head mercilessly, and then seemed to take out something, and scratched a few strokes on his head—the dying man lying on the ground felt only an indescribable pain—and then he felt as if something was always with him, something very familiar was forever gone.

It was as if a huge hole had been dug in my heart, and the life that had been like a candle in the wind was speeding up again.

"This should be able to blame those freaks in the other dimension, anyway, the mark has been removed, and we can't trace it anyway." Under the gaze of Long Mochen's pupils, which had gradually lost their brilliance, the figure stood up and muttered something casually. "Although I am not a virgin, I have always hated your extermination of innocents, and the slaughter of women and children for the sake of profit."

Before his consciousness fell into complete darkness, Long Mochen heard-

"So I have no pity for you, you pure loser."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I hate wiping people's butts as much as I hate self-righteous time-travelers." Consciousness awakens from the chaos, Zhou You opens his eyes, and as expected, the goal is still the same ceiling.

"You're back, Father." Then there came a warm and soft voice in my ears that I was also used to hearing, but every time it gave people a warm breeze. "I don't know if you're going to eat first, take a shower first, or eat and me first?"

"I don't choose that, and who else, I've told you many times, don't call me that noun." Zhou You casually took the wet towel handed over, wiped his face vigorously, and finally returned to consciousness under the cold stimulation.

"I was born because of you, why can I call you if I don't call you father?" The gentle voice unconsciously carried a hint of flattery, but Zhou You, who understood it a lot, suddenly shivered fiercely.

"Wait, I'm not—"

"I'd love to play something new with you, but I don't know what you want me to call you? Brother, brother, master, or ......."

The lips are close to the ears, and even the tiniest hairs can feel the sweet scent.

"Dad~Dad?"

"Enough mud!"

Angrily turned up from the bed, Zhou You, who was completely awake and stood upside down, ripped off the towel and glared at the person in front of him.

'She' was about fourteen or fifteen years of age, and wore a cheap white dress, a pair of brown leather boots that were ubiquitous on the streets, and a pair of pale gray gowns and gloves made of fine silk and painted with innumerable odd patterns and patterns, which were obviously out of proportion to the rest of the cheap accessories.

And corresponding to that strange outfit was a long silver hair that was almost lifelike, and the skin that was exposed like ice and snow outside the clothes, coupled with the delicate face of the doll, and a pair of-

Humans could never possess, like monsters, burgundy eyes.

And at this moment, this incomparably beautiful girl was tilting her head, looking at Zhou You with a smile, and her lips were lightly opened.

"Again—welcome back, Father."