Chapter 720

Soshyan found himself in a strange castle. The dull songs echoed in the hall. Soldiers and servants, veterans and newcomers were integrated in the sound of fire and war roar.

Countless thick voices sing loudly, forming a resonance of the soul.

If a strong man goes, he should be a hundred men

If you return the corpse, you should be a hundred men

The flames of war are long. We should be a hundred men

If you leap with a horse, you should be a hundred men

Snow is my shame. I should be a hundred men

Do not humiliate, be a hundred men

If you are sincere and brave, you should be a hundred men

If you end up as a ghost hero, you should be a hundred men

You should be a hundred men if you have a strong soul

We should be a hundred men to inspire all ages——

Suddenly, the thunder roared and was immediately covered by the soldiers' wild and low laughter.

Soshyan walked carefully into the hall. He wanted to take out his weapons, but found himself empty handed.

There are several rows of huge long tables in the hall. On both sides of the long table, there are countless red and black armored soldiers. They sit in chairs and gently tap the table with their fists. Many echoes make their voices vague, like telling those ancient legends, or repeating those war stories, those old wars that have long been lost in the sea of stars.

Soshyan stared at them all the time, at the vague shapes, the old Legion ghosts.

Somehow, he burst into tears.

Just as he was intoxicated with the song, he heard someone calling his name, so he turned and walked towards the hall door in the distance.

As he walked past a faceless statue, the cold wind was whimpering through the stacked arches.

Why don't they have faces? Who deprived them of their faces?

Outside the arch, the continuous empty corridor spiraled into the peak. The sky was dark and there was no light. When he stared at them, they stared back.

He stopped at the threshold and turned away. The fighting brothers were still celebrating. The slave workers shuttled silently at the feet of the giants to send more fuel for the celebration.

He knew he should call them brothers, but he couldn't say a word.

Then he went out from the nearest arch, and the cold like hell hit, quietly devouring the last ray of warmth.

Soshyan stood with his back against the hard rock covered with frost and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with bone chilling cold air. Pure darkness covered the world like endless void.

He began to move deeper, as if he knew the road here like the back of his hand.

The fortress is so huge that it seems that it will never be filled. After all, it was originally prepared for an army.

He walked and walked, farther and farther, deeper and deeper.

The human voice did not know when to stop quietly, but was replaced by an almost unrecognizable rhythm surging under the earth, which sounded endlessly in the dark.

The buried energy pipelines melted the solid ice. They spiraled and fell on the rocks and froze again.

Obviously, deep in the fortress was a large reactor and a foundry for casting weapons. The almost inaudible roar vaguely came into his ears. The distant roar buried his heart deep in the stratum, and his heart was locked in a stagnant dream that would never wake up.

This ethereal, ignorant feeling is very wonderful.

Now, he doesn't know where he's going or why he wants to continue hiking. All he has to do is shadow.

But he knew he didn't need a flame to warm his heart now, because he was used to this cold feeling.

The next moment, he was frozen in place, the cold hair on the back of his hand stood up, and then quietly clenched his fist.

The corridor was dark and there were no living creatures. Soshyang narrowed his eyes, raised his head slightly and turned to the left, but the shadow there was also thick and could not be peeped.

There was something there, exactly ahead, and although he could see nothing, his senses still perceived something.

Maybe it's some kind of ghost smell.

Soshyan leaned down slowly and crept forward. The passage suddenly became dangerous in his eyes.

Soon, he found that his armor was making a noisy collision sound, which made him feel very uncomfortable. If he took off his equipment, he could have moved forward quietly.

Then he heard again the sound from ahead, the sound of breathing, soft and low - but he was not sure what it was.

Soshyan squatted down, shifted his weight and was ready to move on.

But before that, a low, indifferent voice stopped him.

"My son, here you are. Stand up."

Soshyan instinctively obeyed, which was a constraint from the depths of his genes.

The curtain opened slowly. In the shadow of the castle, a figure walked out.

For a moment, as like as two peas in a blue sky, Sosyan felt himself seeing himself, a nearly identical himself, wearing a floral crown.

Soshyan's eyes twitched slightly, but then he began to observe the features he knew very well, but had never seen with his own eyes.

The face and eyebrows in front of him are 70% similar to his own. The pale skin of his chin is painted with a red flame pattern. A bright red cloak is put on his right shoulder, his hands are covered with heavy gray gloves, and his left hand is tightly holding a wine glass.

Without hesitation, soshyan immediately knelt on one knee.

"Enough, enough."

Eleven asked with a smile:

"Why are you here?"

But soshyan can't give the answer to this question. Maybe this is actually the traction of fate.

Now he is standing here, alone, facing the lost genetic plasma.

"My son, I can see you, but the soldiers can't, whether we have crossed time and space and met at a moment."

Said Xerxes, getting closer, and his eyes glittered strangely in the dark.

"Or this is also the trick of sub space."

Soshyan dared not judge whether he was joking.

"My father, aren't you an illusion in my brain?"

He said hesitantly to guard against any verbal offense.

"We have lost you."

After a few seconds, Xerxes burst into laughter, and his cloak rustled.

"Really, is that so?"

He said, retreating into the shadow, and the chill seemed to subside, but it was only reduced by a penny.

At this time, Xerxes noticed the power armor on soshyan, and he looked at it strangely.

"Are you like this in the future?"

Soshyan wanted to answer, but his head was empty, so he shook his head and snorted disappointed.

"You know nothing. Your memory is empty. I should have guessed that it will do something."

The mother's voice dropped. He turned half over and looked into the darkness. Soshyang was silent. The two hearts in his chest were under unspeakable pressure, and his heart beat slowly and deeply. It was an instinctive response to danger - although there was no sword pointing at him at the moment.

"I don't know whether you were sent to humiliate me or bring comfort to me, but since fate has led you here, listen carefully and remember with your heart."

Soshyan stood where he was and dared not move. He looked at his huge father wrapped in gorgeous armor in front of him.

"Now that I'm gone, be careful of those who print."

Soshyang was stunned for a moment, and his brain seemed to be out of his own somehow.

"He doesn't --"

The mother looked back and her sapphire like eyes lit up.

"Remember."

The next moment, soshyan opened his eyes.