Not praying for ten strings

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.
Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.
Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.
Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.
Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—
"Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you."
Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, "the Just", the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.

Super Righteous Player

Seeing Jiu'er muttering such things in public, Lin Yiyi was a bit worried that others might overhear.


So she quickly coughed and drowned out Jiu'er's voice.


Then she swiftly changed the subject, "The twenty or so stalls on this street, they all look like 'talent shows'... I mean, the kind that don't advertise but simply share tastings with others."


Even without curse energy technology, they would absolutely never starve.


—Aside from the loyal horsemen, there were also Aesirland people, numbering five to six times more than the Elves, serving them.


Lin Yiyi, her mouth greasy from gnawing on a skewer of meat, shook her head, "No... in those days, the Elves' factories, due to the presence of curse energy, spells, and rituals, had already achieved automation. Only key buildings required supervision... and they were mostly just used as human alarms."


The disparity in quality among the Elves was enormous.


Chapter 399: The Old Era Marked by Engravings