Months have passed, and I have gone through that pit countless times. My body is covered with scars left by wire indentations, but I finally found my balance. Soon after, speed followed. When I walked the slowest time for more than an hour, Bühler really kept complaining about being hungry. The final time was shortened to 40 minutes, then 25 minutes. After more palm bleeding and almost fatal falls, I reduced the operation time to five minutes and then to three minutes. Finally, at the end, I can cross that dangerous dark bar within fifteen seconds, which makes my master secretly happy.
Every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month is accompanied by eating, sleeping, cleaning, discipline and balance-strict discipline and stable balance.
They gave me dozens of books and limited the time I can read. Each is a non-fictional work written by people or creatures who once lived on a unique earth. Their souls find themselves exiled here. There is nothing but time and a story in their hands. Although I don't have much (or no) free time, I now have my own story and hope to tell it alive.
These books never bore me, of course, I was never a reader, but these books are not the usual airport fare-they are stories about the later life of aliens, encountering gods, monsters, and on a unique earth General survival. In addition, burying my nose in the book means that I will spend less time being scolded or spitting on my grumpy master. At the end of each day, Bühler will really test my knowledge in the new book; if I get a wrong answer, I will eat one less meal or sleep for a few hours. If I get the answer right, there will be no reward.
"Knowledge is your reward!" He said many times, "Every time you ask a question, one day the answer will save your useless life!"
However, one day... it was a long journey.
Dawn came, and I followed my master as usual, looking forward to passing through the barbed wire. I thought of magic for ten seconds. I'll be satisfied by crossing the road in ten minutes. I cannot surpass it, and Buhlerzhen himself cannot surpass it. For a useless mote, what a great achievement!
Unfortunately, I won’t reach the magical ten o’clock this morning because I was led to another route to have breakfast, a new route to the new gate, and I had to wrestle with a sick nerve on the way. .
This route is the same as the others—the desolate, narrow wall leads to an ugly wooden door with a burning torch on each side. Bühler really only said something necessary, but his drunken tone and reliance on spears exposed everything. He opened the door, I followed carefully, and left innocently. Those alarm bells rang in my mind; even if this room had an unbelievable and wonderful secret, I would expect unexpected things until my eyes And the viscera told me it's not like this.
The light hit me. It's not the sparkling crystals in the dining room, nor the buzzing refrigerator lights waiting on the plain, but the healthy rays of real sunlight that makes me full of vitality from the inside out. This nice, great, magnificent place has the same gleaming marble as the traps upstairs; it is covered with thick scarlet carpets, exquisite paintings, golden candle holders, silver plates and many other looks old-fashioned Treasures. Despite so many gorgeous things, the magic number 10 can wait.
"This room," said Bühler, "it's open to you now..."
Speechless, my eyes are enjoying the feast. I walked around on the carpet and crumpled my fluffy toes. Above my head, there is a round glass window through which you can see the blue sky and flying birds. It would take a thousand years for such a scene to emerge from the mountainside. Each piece of glass is bigger than my whole body, and there are at least fifty pieces of glass on the windows. There is no doubt that this is the most spectacular sight I have seen after my death.
A busy wall blocked my hungry eyes. There are no exquisite paintings, ornate curtains and beautiful mirrors hanging there... but weapons, all kinds of imagination and unimaginable things; from blades to bows, metal and wood, let alone outside Star people; loved carefully and exquisitely. Bühler really joined my camp and admired his unique collection. "I have trained a lot of people here," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Their sweat is still lingering in the air. Do you smell it? This is a difficult job!"
"Is that a weapon?" I asked, pointing my finger at a long piece of wood that was broken in half, but it occupies one of the most conspicuous positions in the center of the wall.
"This is a broom," he replied. "Belongs to... a friend." Buhler really thought of the broken broomstick, with a trace of sadness in his eyes and heart; I even heard him muttering the word "eternity" in his drunken breath.
"Damn it!" he added with a succinct wave of his hand. ""So, what do you think, Spike? what do you think?"
"It's all impressive, Master. It's amazing."
"Of course it is!" he yelled and walked to the center of the room, hoping that I would sit on the red carpet with him. When I did this, he● put a rusty short sword in my hand. This weapon felt strange, awkward, and strange in my hand.
"You look like a sissy with a sword!" He giggled. "That weapon took forty-seven lives! Give me respect!"
Holding it in my hands, I remembered how Kate blocked the swamp in the woods—this is the battle I wanted—a vague man and steel. Having received the training of Bang Bang Mage, I don't know if this is feasible.
"Can I really learn swordsmanship?" I asked him excitedly. "It's hard to say it's Zorro, right?"
"I don't know who it is," he said. "I don't want to know either!"
""Then, can I ask for another swordsman? If this weapon has claimed 47 lives, then it shows. It's rusty, can you see it?"
Bühler really grinned, checking the rust on my blade. He now lets me choose another sword from the wall. Once he had made a choice, Bühlezhen leaned his spear against the wall and stood with me on the carpet again. "Rashti, huh?" he said, picking his nostrils. "It's a coincidence... Me too."
With a strong wave, the stick swung his new sword and pierced my old sword, cutting the steel in half. I grabbed the handle of the tattered thing dumbfounded, and Bligh ate the contents of his nose thoughtfully. "I think it's too advanced for this mote. Yes. Too advanced!"
He tossed the sword to the floor lazily. I did the same thing, waiting for the next class—a class I will never forget.
"Now!" he cried. "There is a good way to beat people... and there is a bad way."
Crunch!
The slamming fist slammed into my face without regret, and those sturdy shoulders and sturdy biceps gave the locomotive a heavy blow. When I fell on the carpet, there was a disgusting crackling sound.
"This is a good way," he added, satisfied with himself. "If you don't handle it properly, you may break your wrists, fingers, and knuckles. Let me tell you, it's extremely painful torture!"
My eyes were full of tears, and a piping hot ** dripped from under my nose, slowly growing up, and turning into a fluffy red on the carpet. I used my palm to make a messy cup with a puddle of blood in it.
"You, you interrupted my nose!"
"I know!" He smiled. "Did you not notice! Oh my god, there is a bone sticking out of your face. It's a disgusting dust! How can I think of this when I eat?"
The stick put his hands behind his back and walked around my messy garbage dump. "Clean yourself! It's time to be more agile! Hurry up! Fett! I hope I can drive twenty miles around this area sometime today. Twice a day, every day is the decent rhythm you hear ?! Endurance-endurance! Test tonight-memorize those books. I hope to take a shower in seventeen minutes. Seventeen!"
Then the master took his spear back and asked me to hold the swollen face. I want to cry... I cry.
The stick put his hands behind his back and walked around my messy garbage dump. "Clean yourself! It's time to be more agile! Hurry up! Fett! I hope I can drive twenty miles around this area sometime today. Twice a day, every day is the decent rhythm you hear ?! Endurance-endurance! Test tonight-memorize those books. I hope to take a shower in seventeen minutes. Seventeen!"
Then the master took his spear back and asked me to hold the swollen face. I want to cry... I cry.
I was sitting at the dining table, reading this new book intensively. Although Buhler really assured that maggots are a good source of energy and protein, the milky worms in my breakfast bowl have not been eaten yet. There is a permanent scar on the bridge of my nose, and my two eyes are now as black as Kate's, at least, as I remember at the end.
I did not see the master today, but I am not worried. I don't care, I am not suffocated, I am not guided, I am not poked, I feel good. Anyway, I have a clear understanding of his whereabouts-he lost his way in the spirits he brewed privately, and it seemed to me that the old horse might drown in it.
The title of this book is: Predators of the Underground Kingdom. The book is full of information about monsters on the earth and the hell below the earth. Written with charcoal pen, there is no obvious author and many missing pages, but among the 100 books I have read, this is my favorite. (End of this chapter)