It took only 17 days and 3 hours for the advanced spacecraft to set off from the backward and ignorant "D-4-e013" to return to the shining world of Seventeen, which she was familiar with—but she had been adrift in the universe for a long, long time.

Mosassy loved the feeling of gentleness, solitude, and clarity as she curled up in a yellowed leather chair in her aimless, indulgent wandering in the infinite universe.

Lady Mosassi didn't say anything to her for the rest of the story—but Mosilaire guessed that she must have found a soul in the depths of space.

Professor Messissi is still unmarried, and always likes to look out at the sky alone on a clear night.

Perhaps there are her stars and her universe hidden in that direction.

Mosilele remembered that she had been lying lazily on the lawn after Ms. Messasi had left, thinking for a long time, and her mind was just circling the same question over and over again:

Is the universe really as bright and moving as she said?

No gentleman took the initiative to answer her question, and the only thing that seemed to be the whispers of Mosilaire from the endless stars that shone in the night—she saw them all—with her primitive but clear brown pupils.

It was from that moment that she made up her mind – a determination that was inconsiderate and reckless – but that was what a young man should be.

Just like Miss Mosassi, who was desperate to escape the divorce contract.

Standing in front of the massive wall, Mosilaire finally spent a few minutes scanning all the complex maps of the area into the eyes of the reliable bionic, and then began to detour around the huge underground with Little Red Riding Hood, heading towards several specially marked places - Mosilaire only thought in his mind that there might be a source of psychic interference lurking somewhere in the middle of these places, but it was only possible - and moving forward with a purpose was more or less better than scurrying around like a fly without a head.

However, the elusive reality often surprises people – but it is precisely this uncertainty that makes life so interesting and challenging, and provides a great opportunity for the strong with relentless will and flexible mind to prove themselves.

After spending some time researching two marked locations, Mosilaire and Little Red Riding Hood stumble upon a deep, frightening pit as they pass through an underground crossway filled with thick darkness - and it clearly shouldn't be there.

Mosiliel glanced up - there was a black hole of the same size above the broken, exposed wires, but there was no light in it, and nothing interesting other than the yellowed dirt that had been tamped by great force.

She walked around the pit again, and took a primitive and rough measurement of it with Little Red Riding Hood.

The large circular crater, with a radius of about two meters, pointed diagonally deep into the ground, and its edges took on an unnatural, irregular jagged shape from the tactical flashlight, as if it had been knocked out of something that carried terrifying kinetic energy.

Many of the steel bars that had been cut off by the waist spread to the depths of the big pit, and the metal directly exposed to the air had not been oxidized and dimmed by the long years, and the white light of the high-brightness flashlight also flashed a little hideous metal color, which made people a little unable to open their eyes.

Little Red Riding Hood picked up a chunk of rough concrete about the size of a fist from the scattered slag and threw it into the hollow.

The hard concrete blocks quickly pierced through the thick silence that had been permeating the pit for an unknown amount of time, and quickly disappeared into the light of the tactical flashlight in the constant collision with the inner wall of the tubular hole, leaving only a series of hollow sounds.

With the charged rifle behind him, Mosilaire groped his way to the edge of the pit and peered inside, trying to find some useful clues in the large dark hole.

The air in the crater was unusually cold, and Mosile, who was still walking ahead after hesitation, had to bend down to lower her center of gravity in order to maintain her balance on the slope of the pothole, so that she would not slide down to the bottom - that kind of thing had better not happen, otherwise her tailbone would have to be ground down by the uneven gravel on the ground - it would be very, very painful.

With his hands on the inner wall, Mosilere could clearly feel the roughness coming from his fingertips, as if time had completely forgotten this stagnant, dead place, so that no trace of the passage of time had been left in this deep underground hole.

The light from the tactical flashlight behind Mosilaire flickered up and down from time to time, and Little Red Riding Hood, who was on guard behind her, struggled with the steep slope beneath her feet.

And as the exploration deepens, the palpitation that entangles their hearts gradually becomes more serious and vicious, and the malice mixed in the darkness is almost condensed into substance, and even the highly effective psychic protective helmets are difficult to completely shield, and the unbearable psychic coordination impact energy that occasionally penetrates the delicate foil will be borne by the user - although the faces of Mosilaire and Little Red Riding Hood, who have been affected by the psychic impact, look like some of the strange aesthetic The medieval aristocracy who liked to slap lime powder in his face was as white as he could—but Mosilaire had determined in his mind that what lurked at the bottom of the pit had something to do with the psychic whispers that often erupted in the fringe colonies.

Interestingly, the material on the inside of the passage has now changed from a simple layer of greyed concrete to a thin layer of black scorched earth that adheres to the normal layer of soil—apparently the earth deep underneath has been briefly scorched by something hot, leaving behind a dense mass of abstract drawings that can never be healed.

The pit was long enough to make anyone feel amazed and frightened, and as they staggered down the tunnel, Mosilele even had the absurd idea that they were walking in the long digestive tracts of some ancient creature whose size was far beyond the limits of human imagination today—I wonder if it had something to do with the growing psychic shock that surrounded them—or simply because of Mosilare's always abundant imagination.

Little Red Riding Hood, who had followed Moschelle's footsteps and groped her way through the darkness, seemed to be much calmer than she had ever been — though the unseen companion was sometimes wagefully puzzled by the scorched black dirt or other bizarre sights that appeared inside the tunnels — but she was good enough that Mosilere did not hesitate to praise Little Red Riding Hood's strong will, expressing her affection and admiration for the amateur colonist who had not been a colony of the margins for too long.

And even if the darkness and chaos in the pits were so thick and dense, sometimes light and life would emerge from them—like the fat mushrooms that suddenly burst into their field of vision.

Somehow, these soft-bodied little creatures were able to penetrate the hard, blackened scorched earth of the place, densely occupying a large section of the dead tunnel, emitting a gentle purple glow in the darkness.

Little Red Riding Hood quietly turned off the tactical flashlight that cast a monotonous white light that pierced the eyes—and in an instant, they were greeted with a very beautiful and moving picture.

The great mushrooms, who had never seen the light of the earth in their lives, covered the blackened, disgusting scorched earth of the inner walls of the tunnel with their beautiful caps, and covered them with a soft purple light everywhere they could see. The glowing cap bulge and slender ribbon section make these unusual-looking creatures fascinating to look at—especially as the eyes of the two outsiders who accidentally intrude into this unique ecosystem adjust to the darkness.

The abundance of brightly colored purple glowing mushrooms in the returning soft darkness dotted the long tunnels and the dreamy shades of purple light almost turn the cold and eerie tunnels into a starry sky that can only be seen on a summer night—it's truly stunningly beautiful!

In addition to these large mushrooms, which glow tenderly, there is actually a small brown mushroom growing on the scorched earth of the inner wall of the pit - but the smell it exudes is really flattering, and Little Red Riding Riding Hood, who came forward to sniff it out of intense curiosity, vividly described its breath as "smelling like a chewed, worn-out rag dragged out of the stomach of a highly rotten snowcow".

As a result, Mosilele avoided the little brown mushrooms for the rest of her journey—she had always been adept at learning a lesson—even if it actually came from her unfortunate companion.

Perhaps it was the beautiful mushrooms that brought them rare good fortune, and the "smell of shabby rags" in the second half of the tunnel soon came to an end—but there were no precious treasures buried there, and the two young ladies who had gone through the ups and downs were not foolish adventurers who could treat life as child's play with their passion—they all had a reason to do so.

At the end of the crater was a small impact crater with a large piece of debris embedded in the middle of the crater, surrounded by fragments of metal and various modular parts that flew out and radiated around it.

Several regular-looking man-made mechas, blackened by the flames that may have been struck at the time of impact, were evenly distributed around the wreckage, seemingly unactivated - or perhaps they had been completely destroyed by the violent impact or the long runs.

Mosilelle, who could clearly feel the increasing psionic impact, endured the dizziness in his head, and asked his companion behind him to turn off the tactical flashlight, and he himself went online to the electronic device scanning system of the charge rifle, and began to perform a rough search near the impact crater - but the results of the first retrieval were a little strange, prompting the vigilant Mosilaire to manipulate the charge rifle to repeat the scanning of the impact crater several times.

If the charged rifle's electronic scanning system had not been seriously malfunctioning, the old mechanical bodies seemed to have ceased their most basic dormant activity in the dark, and the scans transmitted from the charged rifle to Mosilare's bionic eyes failed to detect any suspicious electronic signals and simulated neural network activity fluctuations in the mechanical artificial brain.

This may seem unusual, as these intractable machines could easily sleep normally for hundreds of years in corrosive environments - but they are now dead - or passively shut down.