I loaded the gods module

Chapter 171 The Story Written by the Giant Dragon

Woodrow looked blankly at the fantasy city in front of him. The man had never seen such a dazzling city.

As a wandering wanderer, he only felt that he was out of place with the surrounding scenery.

The man's tall and thin figure was a little stooped. He limped on one foot and staggered forward.

The cold, misty autumn wind blew over Woodrow's body, and he tightened his old gray cloak tightly.

It's a pity that it didn't help, he felt the bone-chilling cold, and Woodrow couldn't help wondering whether he could survive the coming winter.

He continued to walk forward, tired and numb, he only hoped that he could find a place to survive the night.

For tonight, that's enough.

Woodrow raised his head, and tall buildings he had never seen before occupied all his sight. In the sky, the lights in the crystal corridor penetrated the hazy fog, lighting up the huge fonts hanging between the buildings.

The man narrowed his eyes, "Deep Sea Company... Chasing Light Rubik's Cube... Uh... I don't understand..." He muttered to himself.

At this moment, the sound of a whistle suddenly sounded in the thick fog behind Woodrow, which frightened him suddenly.

Immediately afterwards, the vehicle bursting with hot steam tore through the thick fog, and the huge vehicle passed the man along the specially made track.

"Look at the road! Bastard! This is the traffic zone! Are you dying!?" The angry driver's curse gradually faded away.

pat.

At this time, accompanied by the man's swaying figure, a somewhat old pocket watch fell from the tattered pocket on the cold ground, and the dial bounced off, revealing a somewhat yellowed photo embedded inside the watch cover.

Just a normal photo.

The man in the photo smiled heartily, stabbing the little girl's face with his beard, and the helpless woman put her arms around their shoulders.

The dial was stained with dust, and Woodrow leaned over in a panic, clutching the pocket watch tightly like a treasure, and gently wiped off the dust with his mutilated left palm.

"Elma...Demi...I think I may never find you again...Sorry..."

The man babbled, making a confession that he had repeated countless times, and then, he walked away from those intricate tracks and staggered into the darkness.

Fortunately, although the huge steam city is rapidly expanding towards the surroundings, many old alleys have been preserved. Soon, a small tavern with a warm light appeared in Woodrow's sight .

Even in the cold night, the tavern is still very lively.

People from all over the world gather here, wooden wine glasses collide with each other, splashing beer foam, the diners laugh happily, and it seems that there is a whole world separated from the homeless people standing outside the door.

After hesitating for a long time, Woodrow gritted his teeth and pushed open the door of the tavern.

After all, his thin and shabby clothes couldn't resist the razor-like cold wind.

Warmth and noise are coming.

Facing the eyes of everyone, Woodrow became more and more uneasy. After all, he was penniless, and he entered the tavern just to avoid the cold wind.

If he was lucky, he might still be able to stay here and do some chores for the tavern owner in order to get paid for the accommodation.

Even living in a dirty utility room is a very happy thing for today's homeless.

It's a pity that his body is no longer healthy, his crippled palm and injured right foot have already brought too many cold eyes to the man, and he is ready to be chased and insulted.

Fortunately, no one stepped forward to have fun with Woodrow.

He sat in the corner of the tavern, quietly enjoying the warmth brought by the firelight. Gradually, the aroma of roast chicken and beer spread over, and the man's throat couldn't help but move.

Woodrow hadn't eaten delicious meat for too long. At this moment, the hunger surged, and the man lowered his head, silently enduring without saying a word.

But at this moment, the sound of the plate hitting the dining table suddenly attracted Woodrow's attention.

He looked up in astonishment, and saw a burly middle-aged man with a beard sitting opposite the dining table, pushing the fragrant chicken drumstick rice towards him.

"No one can starve in my tavern."

Boss Bourne waved his hand at the dull-faced man: "Eat while it's hot."

"But... but... I'm sorry..."

The homeless man lowered his head, and the man's eyes flickered due to being too nervous: "I don't have any money on me anymore..."

"Don't worry, Boss Bourne's tavern is not short of the price of this meal."

At this moment, another very handsome young man sat beside Bourne.

With his feathered hat, cloak and shawl, he is clearly a bard.

Angelo smiled at the middle-aged man: "Am I right? Boss Bourne"

"That's true." Bourne nodded, and the burly boss lit a cigarette and turned to leave: "Although my tavern is not big, it still has a good reputation."

"By the way, bring us two more glasses of ale to warm up!" Angelo waved at Bourne's back quickly.

Woodrow became more and more bewildered.

"Why are you doing this to me..."

The physically disabled man became visibly embarrassed: "I... I'm just a penniless wanderer..."

"Boss Bourne is just out of kindness, and as a bard, I just want to hear your story."

The giant dragon took the ale thrown by the boss, and responded casually: "Don't be nervous, everything is just a coincidence."

Angelo drank the drink in front of him, and at some point, a small history book appeared in the hands of the historian.

"In the city of steam, homeless people like you are not common anymore."

The bard took the initiative to provoke the other party to confide in him: "You must be a stranger who just came to this city."

As a mythical creature of the 'Sacred Heart' rank, Angelo has embarked on his own path.

He patiently recorded everything around him, listened to the joys, sorrows, sorrows and joys of all living beings tirelessly, and filled in every detail in the history books.

The giant dragon is building its own 'country'.

"Will you tell me your story, wanderer?"

The poet asked like this, but the man in shabby clothes hesitated for a long time, and finally nodded slightly under the temptation of food.

So the dragon opened his own history book, the tip of the pen fell on the paper, and began to rustle.

"My name is Woodrow Green."

Woodrow held up the fragrant dinner plate with his incomplete palm, and the fire in the fireplace danced with warm brilliance, and the moment he spoke, the noisy tavern seemed to be quiet.

"I used to be an ordinary soldier belonging to the Holy Light Church..."

The man gently put the food into his mouth, and Woodrow tasted the food almost greedily.

"I had a wonderful family, I had a beautiful wife and a lovely daughter."

Even in the brightly lit room, the man's eyes were still covered with a layer of gray and turbid, like dust: "I swore... I swore to protect them forever... "

Boss Bourne also sat down at this time. He looked at Woodrow's mutilated palm and deformed calf, and the middle-aged man remained silent.

"It sounds like a really good idea."

Angelo concentrated on writing a history that didn't look like history, and the bard made his own evaluation softly: "It seems that as a soldier, you have the character of being willing to protect others..."

"It's not a virtue at all, Mr. Poet. I just want to protect my family."

However, the man interrupted the bard's words. He lowered his head and murmured hollowly: "That's all, that's all I think."

"But... but... Monsieur Poet..."

Woodrow's tone became erratic: "I can't do it... I can't do it at all! My thoughts are just stupid delusions..."

"Insanely stupid... delusion..."

Angelo softly repeated the other side's words, and the pen tip jumped, and the dragon wrote these heavy words in his history book.

For weak mortals, wanting to protect their families is just a stupid delusion...

The dragon was lost in thought.

Gradually, along with the man's narration, the stories of mortals are outlined in the bard's pen.

Inexplicably, the noisy tavern seemed to be getting farther and farther away from the two of them, and another world emerged from the paper written by Angelo.

Like a drama.

A man in a soldier's uniform pushed open the door, and the little girl with braids rushed over quickly, so the man opened his arms with a grinning face, and a woman wearing a scarf was leaning against the window, her eyes full of tears. It's a happy smile.

But at the next moment, the man held nothing in his arms, he staggered, and raised his head in a daze.

There is nothing in front of him.

There is nothing in the empty room.

As if the real picture was frozen here, Angelo turned a new page, and in front of the giant dragon, the eyes of the disabled man were still dim.

Yes, Woodrow was looking for a place for a casual night.

He could have continued to be numb, but the sudden appearance of the bard dragged him back into the cruel memories.

"One day, during our daily patrol mission of our patrol, we saw... a gradually widening chasm of the abyss."

The man was still narrating, and gradually, Woodrow's eyes showed despair: "That's an abyss rift leading to the place where the dream eaters gather...it's too close, the rift is too close to our home .”

"So our patrol team issued a warning immediately, but..."

Woodrow laughed miserably: "All the noble lords and members of the church abandoned us without hesitation after getting the news..."

Angelo was still listening quietly. He used detailed words to record the despair of the weak mortal in front of him.

"Those Transcendents are really a bunch of disgusting bastards!"

But Bourne, the owner of the tavern, couldn't bear it anymore. The burly middle-aged man slammed his wine glass heavily: "A bunch of despicable and shameless cowards!"

"Then what decision did you make? Did you escape from that disaster?"

Someone asked softly. At some point, the noisy tavern completely calmed down. People had already gathered. The diners gathered around the corner of the tavern, listening intently to the experience of the soldiers.

"Of course I can't escape."

Woodrow's voice sank: "So, our mortal patrol has returned to the front of the abyss rift."

"Because my comrades and I...have made an oath to protect our family."

"Then, they all died. Before my friend died, he pushed me off the cliff. Immediately afterwards, the monster from the abyss crushed his body."

"Before I fell, I wanted to catch him, but the monster's sickle limb cut off my finger in an instant, and red blood splattered everywhere..."

"I screamed desperately, and then the hard rock broke my right leg, and I passed out from the pain..."

The steaming chicken drumstick rice had cooled down, but the man was still swallowing the food in small mouthfuls.

During the conversation, the dragon's records became more and more complete.

Shallow fissures in the abyss tore apart the barriers of the present world, weak ordinary people chose to face the fissures of the abyss, and insect-like monsters emerged screaming.

Slaughter, blood, despair, struggle, roar, and death.

At the end of the story, the man wakes up in the cold gravel.

The wounds all over his body could not be concealed with a tired and bewildered expression. Panting for breath, he struggled to pull out the sharp stone embedded in his knee.

The weak mortal limped, the man clutched his bloody palm, and staggered towards the falling setting sun.

This story does not seem very good.

"What about your family? How are they...how?"

Boss Bourne asked again.

"do not know."

Woodrow responded: "By the time I got home, everyone was gone."

"Now, I just want to find my wife and daughter. They... they may not be dead yet."

When the topic shifted to his family, the man's gloomy eyes finally glowed with hope: "They must still be waiting for me, they must still be waiting for me to come home..."

"Woodrow, you will find them."

At this moment, Bourne raised the wooden wine glass in his hand high, and touched the homeless man's wine glass heavily. At the same time, almost all the diners raised their wine glasses in their hands.

On the other side of the man, Angelo felt that he seemed to be grasping something.

It is obvious that the dragon is only recording the quotations of mortals, it is only recording trivial matters that are not worth mentioning in history.

But in the records he wrote, he vaguely glimpsed a heavy era.

Still, the story is not hopeless.

"Woodrow," the publicity director of Deep Sea Company raised his head.

Under the man's puzzled eyes, Angelo laughed: "Have you ever heard of the Rubik's Cube?"

(End of this chapter)