Zar didn't know the meaning of the old orc's three words, and the other party didn't explain much about them, so he turned his gaze to Grohl, who was sitting next to him. "Don't blame me, kid, I know, fifty thousand silver tables is a lot of money," he raised his hand to stop the orc who wanted to speak, "repairing this weapon, for you, you can only reuse the 'power of the earth', but with this money, you can save many people's lives......"

Grohl listened, nodded heavily, and handed a few cash payment vouchers to the young orc, who had been silent.

However, looking at this scene, there was a hint of self-deprecation on the old orc's face, and finally, he sighed and continued. "Alright, come with me, more than seven years is enough time to calm you down," he said, standing up with the help of the young orc, "it's time for you to pick up your arms again." He smiled and nodded to Grohl one last time, and turned to walk through another stone door in the wall behind him.

Just as the three of them were hesitating whether they should follow, the old orc turned around and said, "Come along, it's not a secret that you can't see people, many of Zangtar's colleagues take this too seriously," he smacked his lips and said disappreciatively, "Faith never needs a high sense of ceremony, it never ......"

After the old orc finished speaking, he pressed his thin palm on the stone door, and after an indiscernible sound, the two stone doors that looked extremely heavy automatically opened to both sides. What appeared in front of Zal and the others was a long and narrow road, and every dozen steps, two torches were inserted into the holes in the wall, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

The old orc's pace was slow, and Zal and the others followed quietly. The stone face under your feet is neat and dry. It should be cleaned and cleaned from time to time. And the road is not straight forward, but has a slight downward angle, which is not easy to detect, but Zal still keenly captures this.

Turning his gaze to both sides, Zal noticed that the stone walls were not clean, but painted with white lacquer with many drawn totems. as well as text. The scattered images are connected together, reflecting the light and shadow of the torch hitting the wall, as if they come to life. The simple figures, or the characters, or the beasts, or the mountains, or the rivers, are shaking, and with the most primitive and rough appearance, they silently tell this great or ordinary story one after another.

Zal looked at these totems and words, and gradually felt a little fascinated. Softly, the old orc's voice rang out from the front. "That's what we do. The duty of the 'patriarchal priests' - to use our hands to record the stories from the ancestors by word of mouth......" he gently stroked the wall with his fingers, "their stories are our glory, and we follow the souls of our ancestors and pass on the stories from generation to ......generation."

The old orc's voice echoed through the corridor, flat. Overcast. "And stories can answer questions...... When we answered countless questions. The people call us priests or prophets. "And we are omniscient? No, in the name of Zankovela, we are not gods." We're just telling one story after another......"

The old orc's voice changed. "I can't give you advice, but you can ask me a question you want to ask, young Wood Elf. He said.

Gavila, who walked at the back, was stunned. Obviously, the other party is talking about her. After a little hesitation, she looked at the back of the old orc and asked, "Can I succeed in revenge?"

A low laugh came from the front, and the old orc shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but the god I worship is not Isharel, the Lord of Fate," he said, "and I think you should ask yourself this question." He said.

Gavira bit her lip lightly, her brow furrowed, but soon, her expression widened, and she bowed slightly to the old orc's back. "Thanks......" she said, and the old orc shook his head in front of her.

A brief silence returned to the crowd, and only the sound of soft footsteps remained in the narrow corridor, but it was clear that someone did not want the conversation to end there, and a rough voice rang out. "Lord God, you helped a man repair his weapon, gave a man three pieces of advice, and finally answered a man's question," said Cadius dissatisfiedly, "Of the four people who took out fifty thousand silver platforms, are you going to abandon me alone? It's a little unfair......

"Hahaha-" The old orc's laughter came from the front, but it quickly changed to a violent cough. The young orc, who was holding him, rubbed the priest's back and glared back at the half-elf, while Grohl stepped forward quickly and supported the old orc from the other side.

"I'm sorry, dear Mr. Elf, but I didn't mean not to ask you...... Swearing in the name of Mother Earth, absolutely not. He patted the back of the young orc's hand without hindrance and said, "But among the countless people who have come to me, you are one of the few who have no 'problem' at all......

There was something emotional about his tone. "Hundreds of years of life have given you the heart that has answered everything," he said, "and looking at you, I am like seeing an ancient tree rooted in the earth, wise, silent, almost integrated with time." The old orc laughed as he spoke, "Well, although there is no problem, I should not let you leave empty-handed......"

The half-elf's eyes lit up. "Really?"

The old orc smiled and nodded. "I remember that the 'red clay wine' I brewed by myself was buried when I first came to the 'Conviction Terrace'," he affirmed, "and I believe you should be very satisfied." ”

"Praise to Göring...... No, praise Mother Earth!" the half-elf roared excitedly, and he didn't care what the place was, "that's enough, it's the best gift!" he said, laughing with the old orc.

The group followed the old orc all the way down, and after some time, they came to a huge stone gate. The old orc repeated the previous action and pressed his palm against the stone door. But this time, the moment the stone door opened to both sides, a series of whispers accompanied by the breeze flowing from the door poured into Zhal's ears.

After a moment's pause, Zar was sure that those murmuring voices were definitely not delusions. Because of his half-elf and Gavira's eyes. The same saw a brief moment of consternation. When he came back to his senses, Zar noticed that the old orcs had turned back to look at them. "Don't worry, it's just the echo of a departed soul left in the world......

The old orc turned and walked into the stone gate, and Zar and the others followed behind him.

It was only when Zar saw for the first time what he saw before him that he suddenly realized what the "ancestral priest" was leading them to.

Although the shadows obscure its vast area. But in the few rays of light that hung from the ceiling, Zal could immediately discern that there was a catacombs lying in front of them, with no end in sight.

At this point, Zar and his companions were standing at the top of a set of stone steps that led to a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing, there stood a waist-high rectangular altar with a long, earth-colored staff on it. By the light of the stone brazier next to the altar, Zar saw countless tombs surrounding the clearing. The weapons stuck in the dirt in front of them were like nameless tombstones, connecting together and extending towards the end of the darkness.

Grohl, who had been holding the old orc, had fallen to his knees on one knee, completely forgetting the pain in his leg, and was praying the most pious prayers over and over again. After a few glances, Zal and the others cautiously withdrew their gaze and lowered their gaze. Treat it with the utmost respect.

The old orc walked slowly down the steps. "We are orcs from Zangattar, no matter what we've done before. After death, they all have the right to return to the bosom of Mother Earth - this is the tradition of the orcs. The old orc stood on the edge of the altar and stroked the staff gently.

"As for where their souls will go next, it is up to the gods to decide. The old orc took the staff in his hand, and a strand of crimson cloth hung from the oval head. "Come here. Groll, put your weapons on the altar. The old orc said.

"Yes. Grohl stood up, pushed the wooden crutch aside, and dragged his injured right leg along. The two-handed axe was placed on the altar.

The old orc took a dark black clay statue from his pocket and held it in his hand. Then, with a slight effort, only a "click", the statue shattered into the earth, and fell one after another between the old orcs' fingers, covering the cracks of the axe's smashed.

Zal and the others, who were standing on the top of the steps behind, all held their breath and watched the old orc's movements closely. After that, a stream of muffled syllables floated out of the old orc's mouth and echoed through the vast burial chamber, and the dust was drawn by a mysterious force and began to operate on its own, flowing into the cracks.

The old orc's voice grew louder and louder, and the continuous murmuring seemed to resonate not from him, but from the entire burial chamber. Suddenly, the earthy yellow staff was lifted high into the air, and all the syllables stacked together like a roar, trembling, and blasting the entire catacomb!

"In the name of Mother Earth, listen to me, Spirit of the Ancestors!"

The next moment, a round of wind circles that broke out of the void exploded from the head of the staff to all sides, and the old orc's clothes and hair flew and hunted. The light that fell from the sky above the tomb seemed to be distorted and dimmed, and at that moment, a whirlwind of fine pieces of dust rolled up dust and flew into the air from the weapons in front of the countless tombs.

"Use my body, use my eyes, look at the glory of this weapon, it comes from the Valley of Ancestors', and it has traveled through countless battlefields—" The old orc roared, his slender body trembling slightly in the turbulence of the wind, but the staff in his hand only shrank slightly, and then immediately stabbed higher into the sky!

"Boom!"

The turbulence beside the old orc suddenly exploded, and the violent energy pushed Zal and the others in the distance backwards. Through the gap between his fingers, Zal saw the changes in the tomb, only to see slender wind marks gathering on the head of the staff from all directions, circling and compressing, as if condensing some kind of terrifying power.

And the originally faint whisper became extremely high-pitched at this time, filling the entire tomb, like countless invisible people, standing beside Zal and the others, constantly telling something.

The old orc's voice rang out again. "Lend me your strength in the name of the earth!" he said, clenching his staff tightly, "for the glory of Zancovela! Give it again, yesterday's, glory—!" In an instant, all the whispers and the old orc's voice. stopped at the same syllable, and the entire chamber fell silent for a moment.

And the staff slammed into the two-handed axe lying on the altar!

"When-!"

It was like a hammer striking an anvil, but it was ten or a hundred times louder! The force gathered at the head of the staff, together with the wind marks it pulled, smashed into the shattered chasm! A round of majestic energy swept away the dust from the axe's body and swept it around. And those cracks emitted a series of metal squeezing sounds, shrinking smaller and smaller, and finally with a "bang", they closed together, and the entire axe body suddenly flashed an amazing streamer after emitting a long sound similar to a trill!

Gradually, the sound of the wind stopped, and the reverberation became lighter and lighter, and finally disappeared without a trace. Zal and the others removed the palms that were covering their faces. Looking at the catacomb, which was still empty, as if nothing had happened, I was speechless in shock.

Next to the altar, the old priest was supported by the young orc, panting heavily, his face covered with large pieces of sweat, and he looked at the two-handed axe on the altar extremely weakly. "Pick it up, Grohl?" Bloody Fist ......," he said. "Just like the first time you picked it up from the valley......"

Grohl standing next to him. Listening to the old orc's words, he froze. His gaze followed the handle of the axe upwards, and he stared in amazement at the blood-streaked blade of the axe—the body of the axe that had been restored to its original state. Finally, trembling, he reached out and gently grasped the handle of the axe. Then, as if he couldn't bear to let go again, he grabbed it tightly, and with a "poof" sound, he picked it up and put it in front of him.

He could hear the low sound coming from the axe. And that once very familiar, but lost its power for a long time. Looking at his red eyes in the mirror-like blade, Grohl slammed shut, hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

The next moment, there was a bang, and a layer of wind marks like dust spread all over the two-handed axe. "You, are you alright?" said the old man...... "The orc said in a hoarse voice, and opened his eyes. Landing his two-handed axe on the ground, Grohl bowed to the old orc. "I, I ......" wanted to speak, but the corners of his mouth trembled, and he kept opening and closing his mouth, as if something was stuck in his throat.

The old orc looked at him and pressed his palm to Groll's shoulder. "These seven years are a punishment for you. It's not because you killed anyone, it's because this weapon is in your hand and your soul is shattered, you know?"

"Yes......" Grohl said in a trembling voice, tears rolling down his eyes like broken threads and hitting the ground.

"Take your weapon and go, my child. The old orc said, "We have no home, so we named the land under our feet 'Axe Tooth Horn'." We can no longer rest in the Valley of the Ancestors, so I'm going to find them a place to live here. The old orc looked into the tomb, "But remember, no matter where we wander, our hearts will always remember the 'Axe Tooth Fortress' made of steel, and we will always be the children of Mother Earth—"

"Take your weapon and go, and live up to its name......"

"Yes!"

......

Grohl followed Zal and the others, and the silence returned to the stone chamber of the old orc. He still sat in the daylight, quietly, rubbing the paste in his hands. But just behind him, the young orc opened its mouth several times, and stopped talking.

"What do you want to ask? Ask, my young student. The old orc didn't look back, his voice sounding weak.

The young orc finally let out a breath. "Teacher, why do you want to let foreigners into our tomb?" he said anxiously, "they are not orcs, let alone followers of Mother Earth......

The old orc laughed silently, and the paste in his hand spun and gradually took shape. "Yes, you're right, but did Mother Earth ever say that foreigners are not allowed to come into contact with our faith?" he said, shaking his head, "Only when we are close can we understand, only when we understand, we can respect, only when we respect, we can get peace......"

"But, but......" The young orc tried to argue, but didn't know where to speak.

"My children, war is never a necessity for survival, peace is. The old orc paused and continued, "More importantly, we have the privilege of being witnesses to a story that can be written into history. I, and you, need to record it and pass it on......"

The young orc was stunned. "A story that can be written into history?"

The old orc nodded, and the milky paste turned into a candle in his hands. Raising his palm and scribbling through the bonfire, a bright flame danced on the old orc's fingertips as if plucked from the campfire. Finally, with a slight drop, it falls on the head of the candle and burns.

"A story of the rise...... the old orc's voice was low and peaceful, his wrinkled cheeks glowing in the candlelight.

"Rise?" the young orc asked, puzzled, "what rise?"

"Kamito ......" (To be continued.) )

PS: Thank you for the reward and monthly pass on the river and the book, thank you for the reward of the madman~!