The sweat is gone, the effort is exhausted, and what's left is only tears.
Late at night, in the dormitory of cannon fodder grade six, snoring filled the room, a cacophony of noise,
On any other day, Tang Qian, who fell asleep like a dead pig as soon as his head hit the pillow, was wide awake, tossing and turning.
Hard to understand.
So frustrating!!!
Unable to bear it anymore, he pulled out the ancestors from the Inheritance Burnt Offering and demanded, "Fourth Great Uncle, what exactly are you thinking!"
"What I think is actually not important, what's important is, what are you thinking?"
Fourth Great Uncle calmly countered, "Do you really want to live your whole life like this?"
"..."
Tang Qian was silent, not because of sha, but because of 'bewildernt'.
Couldn't understand, couldn't figure it out, couldn't comprehend.
——Are you fucking kidding ?
Are you mocking ?
Then you won!
"Fuck you!" Tang Qian angrily retorted, "What's wrong with my entire life? If I spent my whole life building bridges and repairing roads to do good and accumulate virtue, would that guarantee a bright future?
Is that my fault!
This fucking inheritance, every generation just cared about their own pleasure during their life-and-death battles, leaving no room for their descendants, living sloppily and dying as a ss, and when it cos to , suddenly how I live my life becos incredibly important?
Don't you think sothing's off?"
"Why, Fourth Great Uncle!"
Tang Qian questioned, "Isn't it okay to just get by? What's wrong with muddling through life?"
"Indeed."
Fourth Great Uncle approved, seemingly nodding, then asked another question, "But is it good for them?"
"..."
Tang Qian fell silent again, unable to speak, angrily turned over, not wanting to talk: "Give so ti, just give so ti."
Inheritance Burnt Offering, released.
But it couldn't be released.
This kind of mutual resonance, if you agree and I agree, it's naturally OK, but after all, it's not a cheap phone call, where you're happy to make the call and I can hang up when I pick it up, what do you take for?
Fourth Great Uncle remained online.
Neither angry nor resentful.
Just, a sigh.
"Heavenly Slaughter Duke once said sothing that is indeed correct —— Dead people shouldn't point fingers at the living, all this inheritance and bloodline stuff is actually bullshit, no big deal, if it's gone, it's gone."
Fourth Great Uncle slowly said, "The way of the great herd, victory in life, failure in death, when a person dies, no matter how much they say, they are just clowns, the living are the real winners."
"Then why are you nagging?"
Tang Qian rolled his eyes, "Stop nagging, I'm running away tomorrow, it's not my concern, I'm not playing anymore!"
"It's all up to you."
Fourth Great Uncle calmly said, "Nagging so much was just because I couldn't stand your dithering. I thought you might gain so insight from dawdling for a while, but you, this disgraceful thing, can't be pushed, can't understand what's said, can't hear what's heard, and can't be persuaded either.
What can I do? Just let it be, you can do as you please.
But on only one point, just as an 'elder', I have to tell you——"
He said, "At least, give yourself a chance, Ah Qian, be a real man once, let go of others, and let go of yourself.
You have to make a decision eventually."
Tang Qian closed his eyes, ignored, after a long ti, opened his eyes, helplessly sighed, "…what if I can't decide?"
"Then just endure it."
Fourth Great Uncle sneered, "Suffering from your own actions isn't bad either, serves you right."
Inheritance Burnt Offering, released.
Sacrificial Master rejected your call and wants to blacklist you.
Tang Qian couldn't even call back to scold him.
Could only toss and turn even more.
Closed his eyes, then opened them.
After a while, turned over, looked out the window, into the empty night.
Silently, cursed.
Stuck with this shitty inheritance, this life is mine to embrace!
.
.
The next day, Old Tang, who originally planned to run away, ultimately gritted his teeth, during a patrol break, once again skipped out to the place Ji Jue ntioned.
Then, on a muddy beach, he was picked up by a long-waiting speedboat, riding the wind and waves, twisting and turning all the way, arrived at a dilapidated warehouse.
The long-waiting Ji Jue was holding Pan Ying, sharpening it offhandedly, when Tang Qian arrived, he threw the sword over.
"Whoa——"
Tang Qian, with brows waggling, his initially sulky face instantly sweetened as if secreting honey, caressed the three Sacrificial Master insignias on it, clicked his tongue in praise, "Boss is generous, may the boss be in good health!"
"It's on loan, you have to return it after the job is done, of course, if you want to sign a long-term contract, I might consider it."
Tang Qian seed not to hear, totally ignored it.
So, Ji Jue pretended he never said it, glanced at Tang's butt, then reached out, pointed behind him, "Alright, that's about it."
He said, "Load them all."
Dead silence, long dead silence, Tang Qian raised his head, looked at the mountain of containers.
In extre speechlessness, couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"You, Ji——"
Firstly, although the Inheritance Burnt Offering is convenient, it can't store just anything.
Although, for the sake of 'family', when the offerings are limited to Tang Qian himself, anything is possible, just like borrowing a hoe or spade from a relative's ho, borrowing is casual, and storing is no problem.
But if it's sothing external that doesn't belong to you, it will beco a burden.
After all, even your ancestors can't carry everything for you, and not everything can be placed in the ancestral hall.
You need to rely on your own strength to forge iron.
And Tang Qian belonged to those who were... well, particularly strong.
At least half of it was installed, and there is still much more!
Then he would rather die than add more to himself.
If he continued, even if he wasn't crushed to death, the ancestors would certainly strike him down.
Thus, it only lasted for a while.
In the warehouse, the bearded man limped away, holding his buttocks.
Heading towards a hopeful future.
.
Sothing's wrong—
Beneath the broken white tower, the short-haired monk, bare and barefoot, practiced asceticism, holding a broken rusty iron bowl to catch the rainwater slowly falling from the white tower.
Drop by drop, it trickled into his throat.
The monk's lips were parched, his body emaciated, resembling a beggar.
Just like the monks found everywhere in Tower City, he maintains no personal belongings, has no offspring, vowing to follow the legendary King of Compassion, enduring the trials of the mortal world with all he has.
Only water from the heavens is allowed to drink, only fruit from the earth is allowed to eat, nothing can be done by others, and no other aid can be sought. By his own strength, he brings white stones from the wilderness outside the city, ticulously polishing them into bricks to build a tower.
When the white tower is finally completed, the ascetic practice is considered finished.
Only then can he accept offerings and donations from believers.
Throughout history, countless monks like him existed in Tower City, and one by one, complete or incomplete white towers stood around the city, which is why it's called the City of Thousand Towers.
And now, the withered monk's actions paused slightly again.
The sensation of sothing wrong returned.
The blood pact of the Wolf Pack showed signs of wavering again, once more, and again...
As if its mbers were facing a life and death situation.
Has that Kaelbasu guy been exposed?
Impossible; soone like him, who appears brave but is actually cowardly, would rather hide in the Empire's garrison base for twenty-four hours, never showing up outside.
But why does the connection of the blood pact keep wavering?
Is he dying?
No, even if he were dying, it should have ended in three or four days, but this link is progressively weakening with ti.
It's a sign of dissolution...
That guy wants to jump ship?
Secretly and quietly tampering with the blood pact entwined around his soul, thinking it is hidden, yet not realizing the constraints of the blood pact, deep in the marrow and soul, cannot escape the eyes of the Wolf Lord.
In any case, this anomaly made the monk, or rather, Shekri, gradually alert, and a murderous intent gradually arose—indeed, such two-faced individuals who switch back and forth between the Evil Cult and Wolf Nest are ultimately not comrades.
He cannot remain any longer.
The silent monk picked up the iron bowl, walked along the street, and treading on dust and mud, moved forward, but ultimately, rely wandered between the wilderness and settlent.
He looked distantly toward the garrison base without approaching.
In his clouded eyes flashed a trace of doubt, a vigilance hard to restrain.
Even with the target within close reach, he dared not advance rashly.
Suppressing the murderous intent in his heart, his steps ca to a halt, then he sat in the mud and water, starting to clean the irregular white stone in his hand.
Just like the countless wandering monks seen in the wilderness.
His inner self gradually beca tranquil.
And amid this extre tranquility, at last, he felt... at this very mont, within the Imperial Garrison Base, among countless chaotic and mixed auras, a thread of malice.
A thread of malice directed toward himself.
Shekri's movents paused slightly, instantly growing alert—a trap against him?
Without a second thought, he picked up the cleaned white stone, hoisted it onto his shoulder, turned around, and walked away.
In the firmant above, what ca rushing towards him was an extrely dazzling fla light.
In an instant, it swept over his head, heading further away...
[?]
What the hell is that?
Shekri's steps paused for a mont, and he instinctively turned back, only to see... the suddenly ascending fla light rising from the garrison base!
Three seconds later, a loud explosion covered the entire wilderness, surging like a tide towards Tower City.
——Boom!!!!!!!
.
.
At four eleven in the afternoon.
On the third minute of Old Tang's excuse for hemorrhoids relapse to skip work to the toilet, suddenly a red mark appeared on the large screen in the tightly guarded command center in the center of the garrison base.
Radar alert!
The second lieutenant in front of the console froze for a mont, eyes widening, imdiately slapping the alarm button, shouting: "An unidentified flying object is approaching—distance sixty kiloters—speed increasing!"
In an instant, the serene command center beca a hubbub, and missile interception launchers were urgently activated, with personnel running around and monitoring, rapidly locking onto the target.
The missiles were retargeted, the launchers unlocked, and the Colonel on duty, as if sitting on pins and needles, widened his eyes, his finger hovering over the launch button, struggling to decide.
Unable to determine whether it would be considered an overreaction...
"Any movents from the Federation's side?!"
"Everything normal, none."
"And the city area?"
"Normal!"
"Cleanse the surroundings of the base—" Before the Colonel's voice fell, he heard the radar observer's joyful report, "Target confird, not a missile, I repeat, not a missile... it's a non-labeled assembled drone!"
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