Dow and Carbon-Based Monkey Breeding Guidelines

Chapter 621 An Unfulfilled Wish
The executor walks the shadow path.

For a long time, it turned a blind eye to its surroundings.The eyes are no longer the receivers of light for him, but the receivers of life, and what replaces the visual function is the shadow.The shadow is not only the tentacles that tell him the distribution of matter and energy around him, but also his real siblings.The shadow contacts the outside world for him, and he stays in the shadow world forever.

He no longer remembers where he got this ability.Of course, there is no doubt that it was snatched, and there was chaos of blood and fire in the process.Now he was one with the world of shadows, so those rolling endless visions meant nothing to him.The shadow will digest all the troubles, filter out the superfluous things, and the remaining wishes will be turned into shadows.

Mostly it happened like this: A microcosm formed at his feet.It is about the size of an atom, and no light escapes outward, so it cannot be observed.But it does exist, and exists for a second in this flowing timeline.It doesn't hold up stably under all physical models, so it's destined to be overwritten by another expanding teapot moon.

Fortunately or unfortunately, this did not happen.The keen shadow was the first to capture it, and all the microcosmic life that was conceived inside it.They were completely disintegrated in an instant: the physical part returned to Chaos, and all wishes were greedily taken away by the shadows.All the lives that had survived or were destroyed at that moment, their murmurs flowed down the gray-white path of mist.They are so insignificant that even casual passers-by in the Shadow Country will hardly notice them. Only some very special wise men can notice and distinguish them.Although the executor is always accompanied by shadows, he has never been such a wise man.Most of the time, he couldn't hear any voices from Shadow Country, because they all lost their lives.

It can be said that he neither knew what he did, nor cared much about it.Massacre is a very ambiguous concept, because if the scope of life is broad enough, and the definition of taking life is flexible enough, every life can be a predator.The moral point about "murder" is rather nuanced when the rule of measuring evil by numbers breaks down.In general, "killing one's own kind" is a widely recognized murder in the true sense, because it demonstrates beyond doubt the perpetrator's definite intention to "take life", which is different from inadvertently trampling on Flat insects or microcosms are no match.That is the denial of life in thought.

Executors have no peers.No matter from the nature of his existence or his subjective thoughts, there is no such thing as his kind, so he will not feel guilty.Of course, he didn't emerge by relying on the infinite possibilities of multiplication. In fact, he was completely a carefully designed product—referring to him who became the executor.His raw materials, or the original race, can be easily copied, but the maker's craftsmanship cannot be reproduced, so he can indeed be called unique.

He was looking for some special signs.Sound and light beyond all eyes.He found both signals: in a place that was both far away and close, in a space chamber constructed purely by imagination, he heard the singing of the dead singing along with golden bells, and at the same time saw a frightening red color reflecting life .His chaotic hunting senses came alive immediately.

Both of these things have to be eliminated first.His muddy shell urged him.He does this work from the beginning to the end: in order to end everything, he has to eliminate all sources of confusion.the last one.The real last one.He had to get rid of the last one once and for all.

Shadows come alive.From the place where all the shadows first spread, at the tip of his left index finger, the darkness convulsed and let out a sharp cry.It was a forgotten wish, a dross of past events and memories, like other shadows in Shadowlands.

This wish has been entangled in the hands of the executor for quite some time.More precisely, from the day he was created.It was forgotten and lost by him, but just like other shadows, the executor always ignored its existence.

But now, when the executor wholeheartedly pursued the red fire that reflected life, this concentration brought some hazy fragments back to his thinking.He remembered that at some point in the past he had slid down a high slope in a hardwood forest.He is going to hunt wild wolves.Do not.Memory is confused.He is going to catch insects.Maybe.All possibilities come together.He must destroy one vital thing.He is forever destroying important things.

He raised his gun.or knife.or fire.Anything that could be used as a murder weapon, but he missed it at the most critical moment.The thing survived, and he lost something important.Bloody.Flowers under the roots.Red coat.Broken leg bones.Uniformly shaped pieces.He couldn't remember what it was.Still, it was a memory of failure, no doubt about it.The blood trail meanders into the deep forest, and he begins to chase the red trail.This hunt continues to this day.

To hunt the things of the woods.

He slid forward, following the path of the shadow.In the chorus of the dead and the scarlet light, he moved towards the latter without thinking.Everything slides past the Shadow Path.Heavy Matter and Uncertain Particles.The five-colored arc of the non-existent rainbow.Four-dimensional maze.All this is dead wood and dead leaves piled up in the forest.He trod over them in pursuit of red-stained prey.

Something is missing.he thought as he coasted.a weapon.It sits on a compote full of bright red apples.A foldable fruit knife.He reached into his coat pocket and, sure enough, produced a knife.He may have taken it wrong.A short blue machete, not a fruit knife.However, as a symbolic tool for hunting, there is no need to be picky about the details.

Go hunt that thing in the woods.Leaving red wet tracks along the way.Huge silhouette with hair.Teeth and fangs.Meat scraps hung from the corners of its mouth.The eyes are as bright as a pair of full moons.But it's also cunning -- that is to say, it sometimes dresses up as a variety of people to confuse its stalkers.Only the red clues flashed brightly among the fallen leaves, proving that it was hiding there, lurking in the bushes beside the road in the forest, waiting to attack passers-by, and then gluttonously grow stronger.To catch that prey, you must first make it hungry.

Let no one take the road in the woods.

really.He was dimly aware that he had made such a promise, or who had made it to him.But he couldn't recall it either.Everything is mixed and squeezed into chaos.His every impression of the past could be wrong.Still, never go wrong with the point, the hunt.

The Shadow Path leads through the woodland.Executors fly by like skaters.Behind the deep forest he saw the orange-red light of dawn, and the rainbow of five colors that twisted and reverberated like a dragon.At the end of the red trail, he saw the flower of life of blood and fire reflected on the water.Sure enough, the prey was disguised again, but the secret leaked out from the pair of black eyes and the blood-stained robe.It looks younger than it used to be.

The executor blinked.The goddess of death looked forward to the thing in the forest.

(End of this chapter)