While his poor brother, whose mind was still stuck in the classical age of interstellar discovery, digested the explosive information he had heard, Perturabo scanned the list of various graphics in front of him out of the corner of his eye, and at a glance, most of them were still in the normal green range.

You see, it's okay, the preliminary work is certainly tiring and tedious, but none of the knots are superfluous, and when all the threads are arranged in their planned positions, just sit back in the distant future and wait for the river of time to tighten the web of fate by itself.

Just like fishing in a river, weaving a fishing net is something that a qualified person who wants to live here for a long time should be patient enough to do, rather than just snatching your neighbor's fish.

Now that I've written the code to auto-color all my charts, it's much easier to keep everything under my control. Even a shepherd dog can easily do it after calling on the computing power of two proto-brain brains! Peturabo, you're such an epoch-making genius, what a crappy programmer that Martian Casting General is! He couldn't even write the most concise driver code! Look what they've done to the sons of Iron Ten! Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to Forgrim Ishtar......

Ha! Look at the tools of labor and the means of production that the old skeleton can provide to his staff that will make them die suddenly at a glance! Don't blame the last fragment of the clever Machado for us, hey, of course, it's definitely not because Machado's eyes are shocked by the nature of Lamizane......

It must be because I was shocked by my great career, so I abandoned the darkness and turned to the light!

The Fourth Primordial nodded in satisfaction at his transcendental, passionate work, and licked the tip of his jet black nose with his tongue.

And as a cautious writer, for the most important content, he also hid a whole thousand codeword robots on the Iron Blood to copy the parchment roll backup day and night, perfect!

These large and small visualizations now glow in a variety of colors in the cockpit, and they are suspended on either side of the head of the black and white stuffed tyrant - a distribution pattern specially adapted to accommodate the dog's vision on both sides, and if a human were to sit in this position, what the eyes see would overlap eerily and make him or her extremely uncomfortable, potentially causing some kind of vomiting and vertigo.

But for dogs, just right. However, only Peturabo can do it in a dog, and he can separate his eyes to receive information to improve his work efficiency.

Truth be told, if it weren't for his supernatural regular fur and muscles that can't be implanted into any creatures, his work efficiency would have been greatly improved by 80,000 percent - then Mr. Ramizane Kalosini could happily go to the children's craft area to play with his collection of genesis mud and handicrafts, and let the truly chaotic, ambitious, furry, and waning king and demon in the galaxy who will snatch all the pearls of Terra and Mars, Peturabo. BC does whatever it wants in this galaxy.

Unfortunately, no.

Perturabo sighed inwardly.

The cost of "acquiring" Ramizane Kalosini as the closing center of the web of time and fate was clearly calculated at the outset, and although the decision was made in a final desperate effort, the verification process was not sloppy or rash.

The rigorous and meticulous process of argumentation has been carried out secretly for centuries at the beginning and end of time and space, and in order to obtain a solid proof of the galaxy to carry on the advent of Lamizan, the most intelligent and profound superhuman scholars and hermits in the entire universe have been diligently and willingly imprisoned for this purpose, because the rule of "entry and exit" guarantees their safety, and if they try to take even a step out, they will immediately fall into the hands of the Lord of Change.

This guy who was so curious and very desperate didn't dare to come in by himself, but then he thought of a way to throw a lot of Demon Lords here, which was really annoying for a while, and not only did he have no meat, but the essence was not delicious.

In the end, the one named Carlos was just stuck in the aftermath of the proof......

I still have to catch and dispose of this old bird who doesn't know how many things I see, but this guy was just touched by the aftermath and inadvertently acquired the trait of "a god who will never really be born", which makes it quite troublesome to "catch and dispose of him...... Even if Xin Lizhi didn't realize what he was, he would definitely not ignore him.

Just as Perturabo's supernatural four-legged stuffed creatures wet parts were running at high speed in a tiny, rock-made room on a barren planet in this remote star sector, some storm of the ultimate mysteries of humanity, the galaxy, and the universe.

One of the honorary guards of the Planetary Governor's Mansion in Carrick was also observing the tall Imperial Angel standing silently by the floor-to-ceiling window.

This rare visitor was the guard and protector of the Rogue Merchant who was now at the long table beside him, discussing the details of trade with Lord Alexei.

It seemed that the ronin merchant was a bit unsociable, but he was honest, and although he did not make concessions in the negotiations, the highly guarded and suspicious looks on the faces of the governor and his cronies had visibly eased and slackened, and even agreed to the strange suggestion that "it is already three o'clock in the afternoon, so we might as well talk while drinking afternoon tea".

Uh-wait...... I think...... It seems that three o'clock in the afternoon is the time to drink some tea? Perhaps, when you get home from your next duty, you can let your wife try to do it at home......

Thinking so, the guard tightened his grip on his gun and continued to observe the Ronin's Space Marines guard.

Except for the ships that regularly delivered food and exchanged necessary goods, and the ships on which the Ministry of War had recruited the Euglinians, there had been many years of no new visit.

The guard's eyes eagerly watched the dresses and equipment of visitors from afar.

He looked so big, so strong, and exuded an admirable war temperament all over him, as if he were the war itself...... So dazzling, admirable!

It's a pity that the color of the black paint layer is a little not bright enough, and I always feel that there should be a little red and white on his black metal heavy armor, and maybe it will be good to change to gray-blue and yellow......

…… If I could become tall and strong like this......

…… If I was wearing armor like this......

…… I always feel like it's going to ......

…… It's a good fit......

There was a strange tingling sensation that swept across the surface of the guard's skin.

Out of his duty on duty, he resisted the strange thought of wanting to "shake" his body.

This kind of stinging feeling as if "just by shaking" will "grow bigger and grow armor" is too strange, how can you fall into the fantasy of a child as the old man said at this time...... He was amused by this thought, and began to recite in his mind the meditation songs that the Carricks had passed down from thousands of years ago to the present day.

“Arma virumque cano， Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam， fato profugus， Laviniaque venit litora……”

(End of chapter)