The electric monk rode a horse, and behind him was a mule carrying the forage and oats needed by two animals.

The salty flood has receded, leaving only barren land and cold and damp air, and a never-ending drizzle sweeping from the northern seashore seems to engulf countless moments in the world.

Last night's rainstorm, the day before yesterday, and last week's floods, are now a thing of the past. The sky was still like a sponge filled with rain, but only a melancholy drizzle fell in the sinking twilight.

The wind swept across the darkening plains, stumbling over the low hills, whistling through a valley. A tower-like structure stands alone in the nightmarish mud, leaning to one side. Its stubby shape, combined with its black color, resembled a cloud of magma squeezed out from beneath some particularly treacherous abyss.

It's a dead thing, as if it's been dead for a long time (but it actually just appeared last week). The only movement came from the muddy river at the bottom of the valley, which flowed listlessly beside the towers, and there were still some salted fish, shrimp, and crabs on the surface of the river. About a mile or so further on, Xiao He will fall into a deep ditch eroded by the flood and flow straight in the direction of the northern sea.

However, as the twilight gets heavier, if you get close enough, you will find that the tower-shaped object is not completely lifeless. A faint red glow flickered inside, even reaching the surface through cracks in its exterior. At the same time, the evening breeze blows through it, and some kind of low wail will drift into the wind. A slight climax, then an equally bleak gradual weakening.

After walking about half an hourglass, the electric monk finally dismounted. He whispered two words in the ears of his mount and the mule, and then untied the baggage of the latter and fed them some forage mixed with oats. After the two animals had finished eating, the electric monk took out a large water bladder with a wire on the cork, managed to heat it up, and fed them some warm water to quench their thirst.

"You just stay here. If I don't come back after daybreak, you can go away on your own. The electric monk patted his companions who had been following him for several days, and then strode into the depths of the dense forest, which had lost all its leaves.

By this time, the moon had climbed into the sky. Tonight's moonlight was pale and bleak, and reluctantly crawled into the air, hanging there like an evil ghost. Through the damp air rising from the filthy mire, it dimly outlined the tower's jumbled shape. "It's an ugly building, and it's not aesthetically pleasing. Staring at it, the electric monk secretly scolded in his heart.

The reason why it is called a building is actually because there are some hurried figures around it. They carried wind lanterns in their hands, and from one dim light to another, everyone shivered with cold. The white gas they exhale as they breathe is like a ghost, and this white gas will stay behind them, and it will not be long before it quietly melts into the cold night.

There was a particularly incongruous figure: he stood silently in the middle of the crowd, motionless.

Everyone else was carrying buckets on their shoulders, piling up the mud back and forth towards the tower. Most of those who were working were tall and skinny, wrapped in faded linen burqas, and walked like a flock of bitter herons. The man, on the other hand, was short and round. However, judging by the electric monk's eyesight, the other's supposedly smooth cheeks were full of wrinkles, and a few strands of thin, white hair were sticking out from under his pale green wool hat.

The man wore a rabbit skin scarf around his neck and a thick coat, but a robe that puffed up in the wind over top of the coat. The robes were heavily faded with purple trim, a sign of his status as the city's supreme governor.

"It's indeed the fat mayor of Soft Maple City. Judging by his timid and cowardly nature, it is entirely unlikely that this man would personally come to enemy-occupied territory with his men at risk. And he built such a strange structure here. He must have a plan. ”

The electric monk didn't say a word, but his brain was spinning rapidly. A few days ago, when the war began, he wanted to recruit some believers from among the refugees who were willing to serve the god of virtual games. While he was trying to preach in the refugee colony of Soft Maple, the priest discovered a secret: the fat mayor who had been in touch with the gnomes had been secretly doing something lately.

Out of consideration for the relationship between the two parties, the electric monk decisively chose to track it down, and finally discovered that the fat mayor had hired a large number of construction craftsmen from among the refugees in recent days. If he hired those people to build houses and dwellings for himself, it would not be surprising that the electric monk would not be surprised. However, the fact that the mayor, who liked fancy clothes and mansions, would come to the enemy-occupied area was completely unexpected.

So, the electric monk decided to find out what happened. He followed the Fat Mayor's team, and then found a strange place - logically speaking, with the timid character of the Fat Mayor, he would take the group of mercenaries he hired with him wherever he went. But this one went to the enemy-occupied territory with twenty or thirty strange craftsmen, and he went alone with those people.

Moreover, in the place that was supposed to be called "Juniper Village", the fat mayor led the craftsmen to work hard for a week or so, building a strange structure that looked like a tower but was not a tower. If there is no greasy in this, it is really strange.

Because the Electric Monk himself was a spellcaster, he could feel the violent spell fluctuations in the tower-shaped object, but he didn't know what the Fat Mayor had built it for. So he had been carefully behind it for the past two days, waiting for the tower-shaped object to be fully operational, in order to figure out what it did.

If it doesn't affect the cause of the god of virtual games, then given the partnership between the fat mayor and the gnome, the electric monk is not ready to pierce this layer of window paper. On the contrary, he risked his life, and he will completely destroy this thing today. His eyes were now fixed on the dynamics of the building, and the robe was already covered with chain mail, ready to draw his weapon at any moment.

"Tolop, Lord of the Abyss, Witness of the Beginning and End of All Things, and the Great Councillor of the Seven Cheeks, listen to the call of the faithful and glorious fish-folk and open the gates. After the craftsmen had finished putting the last of the ladles together, the fat mayor stretched out his webbed palms and began to chant in a purring voice.

The craftsmen lost their eyes, picked up the iron tools around them, and stabbed them at themselves, gushing blood. The fat mayor, who was standing in a pool of blood, lifted his scarf. The electric monk's eyes widened instantly, and he only now realized that the "folds" that he had just felt weird were actually not folds at all, they were the parotid gland organs mutated by the fat mayor!

"This is a depraved creature corrupted by a benthic demon fish!" the electric monk reacted immediately. He staggered to his feet.

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