Green removed his eyes from the liquid in the bottle, the non-condensing black color had a strange attraction to the eyeballs, and it seemed that everyone could glimpse into some hidden secret that was hard to refuse.

"It's a terrible thing."

"Indeed." Craft agrees that there is hardly anything more dangerous than this, and that the little black liquor in the bottle, which may be less than five milliliters, can be diluted to perform nearly a thousand general anesthetic surgeries, or to gradually send the inhabitants around the water source into the depths without knowing it.

It now flows from a soulless corpse, seemingly validating the theory that "black liquor represents stillness and end".

"I have an idea of what makes it completely liquefied, but I can't think of how to verify it."

"Don't verify it, I don't want to know." The priest reached for the bottle, and it stands to reason that such a dangerous item should not be left out unless it is necessary, and the best place for it should be a chest that only a few people know.

The fingerprint that clasped the bottle didn't move, "Really? In general, prevention is better if you know the principle. ”

A rare burst of self-doubt shot out of Green's narrowed eyes, examining his reflection in a line elongated on the round glass, the moist cold air penetrating into his collar, a cold back and beads of sweat oozing from the corners of his forehead.

"It's horrible." He repeated, took one last look at the black, and withdrew his hand.

"It's great to have so much trust and I promise you'll see it again." Clough nodded, wrapped the bottle in a cloth, stuffed it into the package in front of him, and placed it next to the "snail", "Now let's see what else can be pulled out of the cold burn." ”

There were also ready-made equipment on the unbroken table, from which Kraft found pliers with extraordinarily long beaks, and scalpels with blades as long as daggers, which were now just right.

Reaching into the mass of new creatures transformed from a part of the deceased, he grabbed the fragments of the white moon skeleton and pulled it out.

The chaotic semi-liquid body immediately boiled, and the new shoots bubbled up like bubbles on the surface of boiling water, rapidly elongating, and through the translucent epidermis, it could be seen that the segmented flexible cartilage supported them.

The morphological substance differentiates at a terrifying rate, coalescing into muscle fiber-like structures that attach to the surface of the cartilage, like a flower made of several palms stacked together, grabbing at the stone chips.

The biomass on the surface of the adhered fragments rapidly whitens and toughens, and the texture is close to the chordae tendinae, which are pulled to prevent peeling.

In a matter of seconds, it has gone through the process of differentiation from embryo to birth, forming a response to the current situation, at the cost of a significant reduction in size.

The carefully sharpened blade severed the connection, and the "fingers" scratched the air and swung blindly.

Kraft collected the sample with a slight chordae of tendinae, poured grease over the remainder, and set it on fire.

Like a water stain in the sun, it shrinks rapidly while feeling the temperature, and the peripheral tissues dry up, concentrating the remaining parts of the water and activity around the few remaining stone chips, but it is of little use.

Soon all that was left was debris, bits of bone, and a pile of burnt black ash. The scene is quite visual.

Kraft picked out some of them that needed to be canned for preservation, and a tiny electric electric thrill fluttered through his left arm holding the tongs.

The skin emblazoned with foreign objects smells something desirable, and the expression in the nerve endings is as if to heat the natural attraction of proteins and fats to the taste buds, a deep desire to include the same kind in itself.

Kraft didn't like it, especially when he thought about where these things came from.

So he consciously turned his attention away for a moment, examining the empty coffin in the center of the field.

The main body is made of pure white marble, the square lid of the same material is removed and placed aside, and the outer side is carved with a resolute face, with his hands folded on his chest, and the cuffs are carved with fine lock rings indicating that there is a layer of chain mail under the coat.

The space inside the coffin, which could accommodate about one and a half people, was empty, and the uneven stone walls were unobstructed, undulating like white paint on a drawing board, blending in with other colors that looked a little dirty.

The dull hues of ashed fabrics, rust, and woodwork blend into the stone, mixed with bright and dazzling reflections of precious metals.

The substance was mixed and congealed together in a pot, and the tomb owner, who was supposed to lie in the coffin, was nowhere to be found, and there was no sieve-like structure in the sewer.

Except for the completely deformed burial goods, it can be said that they are too clean, and there is no trace of anyone lying here.

After flipping through it, Kraft couldn't find a literal burial object, so he had to abandon this side and try to find information from other places.

Unsurprisingly, the penchant for burning stories on the walls is indiscriminate, ancient and modern, geographical, and organizational, and as a central area, there are of course narrative carvings here to show the past to those who come after it.

Compared with the abstract maps in the corridor, the reliefs on these walls are much simpler and easier to understand, and they are all more realistic scenes, and it is easy to sort out the order before and after.

The more I realized what was happening, the more fear and disbelief grew in my heart. The things that appear in the narrative do not come from familiar public memory, but from another ancient time, some hidden dry tributary of history.

The first relief depicts a religious scene, half replaced by a moonless darkness, in which a crowd of unscrupulous costumes is led by a tall priest who bows down to a celestial body as the ancestors worshipped the sun or moon.

It's like the moon, and it's completely different. It was a perfect white circle, with a crack in the center, and the lines around it seemed to depict the thing with considerable light.

Figures whose body shape is distinctly different from others always stand between the dark zenith and the normal picture, seemingly symbolizing the ability to communicate between different worlds or travel through them.

A religious society of unknown age, the reliefs show that they once had buildings as large as today's churches, or even larger, but without any window-like structures.

The next few scenes are invariably related to their beliefs, and occasionally a few images of war and conflict are trivially brought to the back burner, and the enemy then appears at the ritual of the religious leader—as an object.

This solid and monotonous social structure seems to be about to endure forever like the celestial bodies they worship until the end of time.

Without warning, an unusually large meteor shower that has never been recorded in the records falls. Lines occupy the entire sky, blazing things fall from the sky, mountains crack where they fall, rivers divert their course, and the earth melts and turns into a sea of fire.

Everything has changed. The survivor looked up and saw a completely different world.

The celestial body had become what Kraft knew, shattered, cracked, and dim.

On the ground at the point of impact, the falling molten object condensed and cracked, forming numerous hexagonal jointed rock columns. Something more devastating to religious societies than the natural plague had happened—a part of the things they worshipped had fallen into the present world, along with some black substance that might have been associated with the catastrophe.

Social upheaval came faster than famine and disease in the aftermath of the disaster, and the priests became strange in contact with falling objects, and internal divisions ensued.

The slender and twisted limbs and the swollen head are more of an unclear but highly realistic image, like a literal break of boundaries between people and embrace, or a new spine emerging from a head with blurred facial features, commanding a cumbersome and repetitive body.

The collapse of religion began with the fact that the original symbol of the recognized dichotomy circle was no longer unique, and the new group was symbolized by the broken ring, or simply the hexagon that fell to the ground, and certain snake-like patterns of unknown origin began to appear.

Unable to tell what they were worshipping, the catastrophe turned into a carnival, and the search for the god's body led them to devote manpower to massive underground construction to the great falling objects that sank deep underground.

The fate of this civilization is unknown, but it can be seen that a priest with a clear mind and perhaps a sober mind chose to flee with his people.

As the embossed figures gradually converge on the historical style of the kingdom, the traces of the madness of the past are almost completely washed away.

They have become a normal family that blends into the normal population, and like most bloodlines that have disappeared into the dust of history, the members have no idea where they come from, and even if a small number of them still retain a piece of information or two that is older than myths and legends, they may not care.

Until a group of people wearing winged rings set foot on this land that hangs overseas.

The exact process is not depicted in the reliefs, but it is likely that it was due to the traditional art of recording the collection of knowledge, and soon some wise people discovered something from scattered ruins and suspicious ancient books.

By then, the missionaries were struggling in a divided land.

Not surprisingly, the emerging church has found the remnants of an ancient faith and sought cooperation in the hope of bringing back a power they did not understand from a buried past.

In the relief, the monk, who has not yet worn the archbishop's crown, stands side by side with a man in chain mail, in front of a hexagonal well.

There is no need to look at the rest of the section, and there are almost no people who are not familiar with this paragraph.

Only the faint crackling of torches remained in the space, and the river of history rippled in front of me, and the already undulating water surface shattered, revealing a dark corner of the turbulence below.

"Keep walking, there's nothing to see here." Green tucked his hand under his burqa and shrugged his shoulders several times to make some moves, but finally gave up.

The team exited the chamber exit on the other side and climbed a long, spiraling staircase, with fewer droplets of water dripping overhead.

After rising nearly a few stories to the height of the building, a stone slab blocked the way overhead.

"Dead end?" Kraft struck with a counterweight ball, and an empty echo came from the opposite side. He tried to jack up the slate, "Unlikely, come and do me a favor." ”

The priests and monks stepped forward to exert their strength together, but the space was limited, and only three or four people could exert their strength, and there was no obvious sense of push.

Until Yvonne squeezed in by his size and joined them.

With the sound of the sealed soil shattering and rubbing, choking dust fell from the top of the head, and the stone slab slowly lifted and turned aside with incredible force.

The group got out of the tunnel and found that what had just been pressed on top of their heads was not a stone slab, but a whole sarcophagus.

Suddenly they came to a chapel-like place, and the red glow entered through the mosaic glass windows, shining on the faces of the monks who were about to cry. Outside, you can see the statue of the knight standing upright on the prancing horse, holding the reins in his left hand and his right hand held high empty.

Push down the book of the group friend∠("∠)_If the group friend writes something of the same kind, you can find me to push it, after all, I first relied on the good Samaritan chapter push to get the traffic.