Become a villain after transmigrating into an infinite game

Chapter 167 Ancient City of the Undead
"Ugh……"

Jiang Jin frowned tightly, holding a golden pocket watch, caressing the black and white photos on the watch.

"Don't worry." Quan Heng said in a gentle voice, "We will speed up and let you pass the Wugou River as soon as possible."

Jiang Jin put away the pocket watch carefully, and said "OK" softly.

"Where is the location of the second city?" The Mad Hatter held a thin rope in his hand, with a glass bottle hanging on the other end of the rope, shaking the monster fragments in the bottle upside down as he walked.

"The second city is to the south of the first city, and it's closer to the Wugou River."

Jiang Jin glanced at the blood moon, which was close to a semicircle, and recognized the direction, "Continue to walk in this direction, and we will pass a large sycamore tree.

"The biggest monster in Ercheng is called Songjing. Before it died, it built a Bodhisattva temple for itself to bless itself with safety and success, so it also likes to nest in a Bodhisattva temple after death, which is in the southernmost part of Ercheng."

"Bodhisattva Temple?" Quan Heng twisted a Buddhist bead and raised his eyebrows.

She smiled lightly, her eyes were expressionless, "Bodhisattvas don't have such great merit, they can't get over this kind of evil animal."

The sinner must let the victim control the judgment, avenge it, and send it to hell with his own hands.

"Miss Quan is right, gods can't control these things," Jiang Jin pursed her lips, with hatred in her eyes, "He should pay the price for the death of those innocent people."

"Sister," Mu Jing suddenly pointed forward, "There is a large tree there."

Everyone looked and saw a large plane tree swaying in the wind under the blood moon.A thin mist filled the period, unspeakably oppressive.

When I entered this sycamore forest, I realized that the ground under my feet was blood-red, as if it had been soaked in blood flowing like a river, over and over again, and it would take a long, long time to even dry up.

"There are more than 30 sycamore trees here, and there is no end to them from east to west, and they have been standing in front of the gate of the second city." Jiang Jin touched the sycamore tree at hand, and heard the wind blowing the sycamore.

The sound is like weeping blood, every sentence complains of indignation.

"Every time I wake up, I will come here to have a look," Jiang Jin said softly, "Listen to their voices, and even more to their grief and indignation. Especially when the wind blows the sycamore leaves, the sound is like the cry of the soul.

"I can hear the mother crying for the child, the wife crying for her husband, the child calling for the mother, and the scream of the baby...

"A devil invaded my hometown, mutilated my compatriots, burned, killed and looted, turned the land I love into a purgatory on earth, and turned my cherished people into ghosts."

Jiang Jin caressed the scars on the sycamore tree, trembling her lips, "It's because I didn't protect them well, I didn't defend the city... At that time, if I had tied up the bombs, I would have killed a few more enemies. If I could protect one one.

"I'm actually not worth waking up at all. There are so many comrades-in-arms, so many folks, and I'm the only one left..."

Jiang Jin supported the sycamore tree almost collapsed, and tears fell on the crimson ground.

He never really thought of himself as a hero.

This scarred body has been put on some kind of shackles, and everyone who can't wake up will put a shackles on the surviving soul.

The deeper the bond, the heavier the shackles.

Quan Heng was silent and did not speak. There were very few moments when she didn't know what to say, but now she didn't know how to comfort her at all.

This blood debt is too heavy, and the descendants are still sad and resentful, let alone the city defenders who are in it.

"Hey—"

Like the cry of weeping blood, the beautiful and sad voice spread to every place in the sycamore forest.

The wind blew the sycamore leaves, and the fog thickened instantly, covering the sight.

"Huh?" The Mad Hatter flicked the Joker in his right eye, saw the light golden light through the thick fog, and tilted his head in doubt, "It's not the energy of the monster group... what is this?"

Not a monster?

Quan Heng looked into the depths of the dense fog, the light of the red moon blurred the fog in front of him giving a strange feeling, he could vaguely see the light golden light outline a vague outline in the fog, and the distant sound was accompanied by the shallow drumming.

[Heaven and Earth Xuanhuang, Punishment and Reward]
*The sound of drums and flutes intersect, like a broken array, a blurry figure appears at the end of the line of sight, and you can see the crimson sacrificial robes, with wide sleeves and lightly stretched hands, and the thick fog in front of you is like a curtain. Open, the field of vision is instantly clear——

The goddess wore pure white red lips, and a cinnabar face between her brows. There seemed to be waves of mist rolling under her body, making her soar in the air.

"Nuo opera?" Quan Heng recognized the Nuo face the moment she saw it, and she even took Sang Ting to watch related stage plays.

"What is Nuo opera?" Mu Jing asked curiously.

"Nuo opera, also called ghost opera," Quan Heng briefly explained, "It originated from Fang Xiangshi's exorcising activities during the Shang and Zhou dynasties. It is the oldest dance in China to entertain gods and worship gods, dance ghosts, and drive away plagues and avoid epidemics—— I will take you to see it in the future. After all, you should understand these traditions.”

Mu Jing nodded obediently: "I remember."

In the mist, the Goddess put her hands together and leaned back like a lotus knot. The mist under her feet suddenly surged into waves, covering the sky and covering the earth like a curtain rising and then subsiding.

[The sun and the moon are full and the gods are coming]
The sound came, the drum beats began to gather, and the flute sound sank.

The mist surged again, and the [gods] in dark clothes and white masks surrounded a goddess in red.

Treacherous but awe-inspiring, sacred and majestic.

The goddess slowly spread her arms, and the male lions lined up behind raised their heads one after another, standing behind the [gods] with black faces and red temples.

For a moment, the overwhelming momentum came with the charm of ancient times.

[The blue thread on the hard road, to inspire the mountains and forests]
The distant voice sounded again, the drum beats became more intensive, and the flute became hurried.

The mist surged, and thousands of spears protruded from the mist, and the faces of the enemies could not be seen clearly, but the oppression and crisis had already struck.

Immediately afterwards, several opera characters in armor walked out of the fog, their faces could not be seen clearly, only thousands of spears were pressed down, and the general stood still.

The red-haired male lion fights the besieging jackals, the white mist above suddenly swims out of black air and golden light, and the wandering dragon fighting with the black giant snake rides the cloud and rides the fog, dressed in golden light, magnificent.

The picture is grotesque and sad, but even more stunning and magnificent, bursting out with another kind of vitality.

[Don't forget the undead, go on a long road]
The sound of the drum gradually calmed down, the mist billowed again like a curtain, the black air dissipated, the golden dragon and the red lion remained the same, but the general was nowhere to be seen.

From the depths of the white mist, a human in white clothes and a white mask slowly walked out, followed by a pure white lion, with a faint golden light radiating from his body.

He came out of the fog and stopped in front of Jiang Jin.

After standing quietly for a moment, he turned around and took out a large leather-wrapped knife from the mouth of the white lion behind him. There was a piece of red silk tied to the handle.

Jiang Jin took the big knife in his hand with trembling hands, and felt the familiar notch on the handle.

He stroked it carefully, recalling in his mind the scene where the old company commander was notched after killing the enemy, and raised his head suddenly:
"This is--"

Jiang Jin's pupils shrank suddenly, and the white lion in front of her was gone, as was the person who just handed the knife.

The fog dissipated, and the sycamore forest was gone.

——In front of you is an ancient city that has been devastated by war.

·
*Inspired by Teacher Yang Liping's "Pingtan Impression"

To put it bluntly, the "can dance" of the foot pot chicken is copied from us.The "Jingyao Nuo Dance" in Yuanshenli [魈] is also the Chinese Nuo culture, remember it, don't be stolen again.

(End of this chapter)