365

In the half-collapsed temple, only a few stone pillars are still intact, which together support the small half of the main hall.

At the very front of the main hall is a cracked altar with a pitch-black, large cross erected in the center of the altar.

Above the cross, hung an upside-down naked man, his ankles, his thighs, and his body, with obvious rust-colored iron nails exposed, accompanied by bright red bloodstains.

The "fallen Creator" closed his eyes as if he were suffering from guilt and pain.

- Before today, although Silver City had discovered many destroyed cities and found some written records pointing to evil gods in previous explorations, most of the residents had never seen the so-called evil god statues.

It was often dangerous to look directly at the statue of the evil god, so everyone avoided their gaze after a brief observation.

The remainder of the temple was not wide on the ground, and the exploration team quickly divided into groups of two or three, and found nothing unusual.

Seeing this, Colin, the chief of the "six-member council", pondered for a few seconds and said:

"Go underground."

As he spoke, he brushed out one of the twin swords he was carrying, and applied it a silver-gray ointment.

Immediately afterward, he removed a metal vial from the belt around his waist, unplugged it, and drank the potion inside.

At this moment, Deric felt that the chief's light blue eyes seemed to brighten up a little.

The members of the exploration team made the most careful preparations one after another, and under the light of four animal skin lanterns, they walked step by step to the underground area along the stairs to the left of the idol.

Darik shifted to the position of carrying the lantern and walked in front of the left, carefully digging into the darkness.

He heard the footsteps of himself and his companions swinging out from the stone staircase surface, echoing in a distant emptiness.

The echo was undisturbed, signaling absolute silence below, but in the minds of the members of the exploration team, it was like a knock on the door, trying to open a secret that had been buried for an unknown number of years, and it made their spirits tense up.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, Derrick finally saw the road ahead of him flattened, and saw the newly discovered mural described by the polluted Duck Riggins.

Those murals exist on both sides of the wall in large areas, simply painted with some color, looking ancient, vicissitudes, and dark.

Derrick glanced at it casually, and was caught by one of the murals:

On the left front wall, a white cross stands in the center, surrounded by a sea-black color, drowning many humans struggling to stretch out their arms.

On the cross is the upside-down "fallen Creator", rusty iron nails and blood-colored stains indistinguishable from the statues of gods from the outside world.

But in this mural, the "fallen Creator" is suffering from the erosion of black, so much so that parts of the whiteness of the cross have become black.

In addition to this, the cross supports a hazy earth, and countless human beings are kneeling in prayer to the "fallen Creator".

Around the picture, in the deepest part of the darkness, there are six evil god-like figures.

In the upper left corner is a girl in a long black classical dress, her clothes are layered but not complicated, inlaid with many stars like many rays, her body is relatively blurred, there are signs of ripples outward, her face is ambiguous, as if wearing a mask with no facial features.

Around her, darkness was surging, and strange eyes loomed.

Directly above him was a young man in a pure white robe, his face painted pure gold, and his rayy tentacles grew.

His hands held rotten green books and spears condensed with light, and his chest was reversed from his waistcoat.

In the upper right corner is a monster holding a trident with an octopus-like head, round eyes, and lightning bolts.

The feathers of countless birds make up its mantle, and the darkness turns into waves, supporting its feet.

At the bottom right is a plump and feminine lady with her chest bulging high and naked outside her garment, holding a baby with a rotting face in her arms, black ears of wheat at her feet, squirming spring water of flesh, pus-dripping herbs and frantically mating animals.

Directly below is an old man wearing a hood with an exposed mouth, wrinkles, and a white beard.

The old man held an open book with an eye on it that symbolized omniscience.

At first glance, this old man is the most normal, but the smile outlined at the corner of his mouth has an indescribable evil.

In the lower left corner is a giant warrior in tattered armor, clubbed with a long sword, seated on a throne, with a bleak twilight in the background.

The meaning of this mural is that the gods crawled out of the abyss when the cataclysm came, and the "fallen creator" suffered most of the guilt and suffering in order to save the world, and as a result, the symbol was eroded and the image was changed...... However, I think she's the biggest evil god...... Carrying a skin lantern, Daric looked at the murals on the wall as he walked, and found that it was basically the same as Duck Riggins's description, and the core theme was that the area was not abandoned by the gods, but was blessed by the "Creator" to maintain civilization in the apocalypse.

Of course, Duck Ripkins has only mentioned it briefly, far less detailed than the mural itself.

During the whole process, Derick did not relax his guard, and after the lesson of stupidity before, he always watched out for accidents and was ready to deal with them as soon as possible.

In the dim candlelight, the exploration team walked through corridors, halls, and rooms, and went deep into the underground area of the temple.

Suddenly, a half-open greystone gate appeared in front of them.

366

After dinner, Crane put on his coat and hat and prepared to go out.

He's going to find Miss Sharon to solve the problem of a certain baron digging a tunnel, and by the way, ask for clues about the mermaid, trying to get the deal done before Detective Sherlock Moriarty goes south for a "vacation".

Although it was empty, and the life of the Baron was not important, Raft Pound knew nothing about it, and he had some secrets that Crane could not even know, so he might take this opportunity to find out.

…………

The bells of the night rang silently, as if they had come from a very distant place.

There was an abandoned chapel in the middle of Williams Street, with withered vines crawling all over the walls and gray stones falling everywhere.

Inside the chapel, excrement and debris are intertwined, stone piles and dead grass are interspersed.

In the half-collapsed corner, a middle-aged man in a black tight-fitting suit moved away the stones that hid the entrance to the cave, carrying digging tools, lighting utensils, and a basket for transporting earth, and carefully and excitedly burrowed into the tunnel.

He had gray temples and puffy bags under his eyes, and he was a descendant of the Quaternary Tudor family, who was considered to be mentally ill by the outside world, from Baron Raft Pound. This gentleman, who was always entangled with high-ranking call girls, had a solemn expression at this time, and his eyes were shining, and there was no sign of indulging in wine at all.

He propped his elbows on the ground and crawled diagonally downward, as if the end of the tunnel held the greatest and only hope of his life.

It didn't take long for him to touch the cold stone in front of him.

This did not extinguish Raft Pound's enthusiasm, and he was already preparing to grope around and dig. Suddenly, he knocked something down, causing a chain reaction. The balance in the tunnel was broken, and the indestructible sand and rocks in front of him suddenly collapsed.

There was nothing in front of him, and the smoke and dust cleared, revealing a dark underground palace.

The massive collapse seemed to have been calculated, and it didn't affect the tunnels where he was hiding. The sudden appearance of a huge underground space is three meters high, enough for people to walk normally.

At the end of the line of sight, there was a sudden flash of fire, like an invitation.

Raft Pound's expression was furious, and he struggled to crawl out of the narrow tunnel, his elbow dripping with blood. When he landed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black iron coat of arms.

On top of the coat of arms was a hand holding a scepter, and Raft Pound's eyes lit up as if they were burning.

He solemnly put the black iron coat of arms on his chest, puffed up his chest, and hurried towards the place where the fire was.

Along the way, there are countless ancient objects that have appeared due to the landslide, such as the irregular candlesticks with exquisite workmanship, the doors carved with knives and axes, and the tables and chairs that still show ancient rough patterns after being silent for thousands of years...... Raft Pound was surrounded by these things, and walked towards the end of the firelight.

The ceiling of the dark and heavy underground palace was shattered, and the huge chandelier was only supported by an iron chain, hanging diagonally above. The great hollow was like an eye, looking down on the last descendants of Tudor who had entered the place.

Step by step, to Heaven or Hades, Raft Pound never felt that the road of more than 100 meters was so long.

Finally, he came to the firelight, and saw a blood-colored candle burning quietly on a huge black high-backed chair like a throne.

- The candlelight was lit, and the lights opened the palace with the light.

All the ruins, wreckage, and ruins were gone, shadows filled the blind corners of the sight, blood covered the charred corridors, and the red and black curtains were windless. When the figure on the throne opened its eyes, the palace was conquered by the iron law of fire and blood in an instant.

Spanning millennia, the source of glory that the Tudor family followed appeared in the eyes of Raft Pound.

The Mad King was dressed in iron armor, and the red priest, who symbolized the flames of war, wore white robes over the black iron armor, thinking that when she returned triumphantly, the blood of enemies and enemy gods would dye the white robes a red color to match her.

She was silent, she stared, her gaze moving down for a few moments before falling on her descendant who knelt down at the foot of the steps with divine pity. The Blood Emperor replaced words with silence, turning Ping Sensen's cold smile into a beheading knife, so that the courtiers could only keep adding to their lives in fear.

At this moment, the back of the descendant of the fallen descendant was like being burned by a soldering iron, and the blood surged out.

The silence of this passage is deep and long-lasting, like the quietest of death's eve. The Blood Emperor exists only to be a statue, a symbol, a microcosm of a dynasty, and some people will respectfully and humbly honor that name, frantically chasing the shadow of the past, crawling forward and stretching out their arms just to be qualified to kiss that small shadow under the throne of the gods.

Raft Pound Tudor fell to his knees reverently, having come here after decades of preparation and exhausting his life's courage, and with countless ambitions and bold words hidden in his heart, all of them turned to ashes in front of the true Blood Emperor, and he did not dare to make even a slightly louder gasp.

What is the matter with the Blood Emperor, the lost dog with my blood?

The Blood Emperor, Arista Tudor, asked, but did not wait for an answer. She rose from her throne and descended the stairs, leaving behind a vast sea of fire and scorched footprints along the way. The corners of her coat brushed past Raft Pound's shoulder, and the latter lost the use of the arm forever—it was scattered in black ashes, broken like black coal, and its veins were blocked by the heat, steaming out all the blood that wanted to spill.

Miraculously, Raft Pound didn't feel much pain, so he took it as a gift from his ancestors. He used his remaining arm to maintain his balance, swaying to his feet, hurriedly following the long-cherished wish of his family, who had already gone away.

Their feet seemed to be treading the magic of time, and behind them, the flames of the candelabra soared upward, engulfing the entire underground palace and merging into the sea of fire that spread from the footsteps of the Blood Emperor. And in front of them, the light and shadow changed, the flat ground became a staircase, the stairs spiraled up, and the emperor ascended the tower, followed by Raft Pound, who was radiant, his eyes were crazy, and he felt that he had never been so young.

Tower. This thing has the meaning of ascending to heaven in fables, myths and even murals.

The emperor of the mortal world ascended to the top step by step, and eventually became an immortal god.

Tudor's blood followed his ancestors to the high platform, and when he leaned down, the earth beneath his feet was in sight, the roads and iron laws stretched to the end of his sight, and people the size of ants came and went in matchbox-like houses, while the emperor stood in the sky and watched the vast empire in the desert.

Raft Pound looked at the glory of the family thousands of years ago, felt the spirit of putting everything in the world in the palm of his hand, and felt the excitement of his heart, only to find that his ancestors had already taken their eyes off the earth.

She was looking into the distance—far away, behind the mist and mountains, lightning swam in the night sky, the crimson moon hung in the sky with the sun, and the earth seemed rich and sacred, flowing with a radiance that made you want to bow down.

And the Blood Emperor Arista's gaze was like a sword, pointing directly at the sacred place.

Seeing this scene, Raft Pound suddenly felt his blood boiling, his fingers trembled violently, and his teeth trembled uncontrollably with excitement—

In the ancient records of the Tudor family, the ancestors of the family once occupied half of the Northern Continent and were enemies of the gods!

He followed and looked into the distance of the mountains, and suddenly saw that the army was fighting.

The army carrying the banner of the Tudor Empire collided with the crimson army, and the army of flames was unstoppable, brave and skillful, and trained to cut the army into many small pieces with chariots and formations, and break them one by one. Their tactics are pure and powerful, but they lack key commanders. And even though Tudor's army became more and more courageous, it was still difficult to break through the enemy's tacit position.

At this moment, a fire-like color suddenly appeared in the sky, and the blood-red figure brought the all-devouring divine fire from afar, and the clouds paved with white bones were forced to get out of the way and make way, and even the dark divine seat in the sky had to temporarily avoid the edge.

The flaming army stirred up, praising the entry of the god of war, but did not want the army of the Tudor Empire to erupt more violently:

Long live the Blood Emperor! Long live Alista! Long live the Red Priest!

At this point, the invincible army was about to usher in a tragic defeat to the point that no one survived.

Raft Pound suddenly found himself in the midst of the Blood Emperor's military formation, the red banner of "Hand in Charge of the Scepter" fluttering above his head, wave after wave of fanatical, fierce shouts filled his ear drums, and the fiery chains linked each other's spirits, and he was instantly infected by this frenzied and terrifying atmosphere, and roared and rushed to the red of the defeated war.

The flames swept through everything, leaving behind a soil charred as iron. Burned the throne made of black iron, burned the rivers where the dead wandered, burned order and all the laws, the iron-blooded laws ruled the continent, and the gods disappeared.

The celebration banquet lasts for several days, with an inexhaustible supply of fine wine, and a stream of delicacies is served, and the carnival will continue forever. Raft Pound was in the middle of it, celebrating, toasting with the soldiers, and making the feast never stop, and couldn't help but let out a loud laugh of joy. He looked into the distance through the window, and there was a tower on the earth that symbolized the imperial power, and the clouds on the horizon were red, and this was forever.

He closed his eyes, indulging in the beauty of the moment.

……

In the dark and gloomy ruins of the palace, a short candle burned to the end, extinguishing into a wisp of green smoke on the Black Iron Throne.

Just two or three steps before the throne, Raft Pound fell sideways, his eyes wide and a smile on his face that bordered on madness.

He died in that crazy and beautiful dream, and stopped breathing under the great joy.

Around him, extraordinary properties have been precipitated.

A red-haired figure turned into the shadows behind the throne, picking up the black lawyer's extraordinary properties with one hand, tossing it in her hand nonchalantly, then bending down to take in Raft Pound's expression.

After a few seconds, Medici straightened up and smiled approvingly:

"After all, it's a bit like that madman."

TBC

——————

It's finally here, this plot I've been thinking about for a long time.

128-366: The last descendant of Tudor drowning in the glory of fantasy.

It's not a big problem to read the text, but if you don't read this article, you don't look at the Black Emperor Russell, you don't look at the red angel who lit a match, you don't look at the red evil spirit ridiculing the descendants of Tuduo, you don't look at the typist's learning process, and you don't look at the old love Xiaocha playing cards and chatting...... If you don't read this subsection, and you don't watch the plot of other people's meticulous work, it's a loss!