vrcanaries Chapter 100 The Real City in the Forest
Chapter 100 The Real City in the Forest
The low-frequency humming sound from the depths of the forest city still lingered in the air, and the oppressive feeling did not dissipate despite the deaths of a few monsters.
Someone has to go down and find out what's going on.
Just as Lynn was about to issue a commissioned task through the system, a player immediately noticed his intention.
"Wow! Boss, this mission is practically tailor-made for me!"
Da Niu, being rather lazy, immediately raised the wooden shield in his hand, his face full of excitement.
Several first-tier warriors, including Wangliang, were also eager to try, wishing they could rush into the abyss and have a big fight right away.
Lynn shook his head as he looked at these reckless brutes who only knew how to charge blindly.
"This time we're not going to clear out monsters; you've made too much noise."
Lynn pointed to Night Cat, who was wiping his dagger in the corner, and said, "Go."
As a native spies on Treasure Island, Night Cat's adaptability to underground pipe networks and dark environments far surpasses that of ordinary people, and his reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance abilities are top-notch.
Night Owl pursed his lips and tucked the dagger back into his waistband.
He glanced at the outsiders around him who were digging flesh from the corpses, his eyes filled with disdain.
These players may not be afraid of death, but their behavior is even more vulgar than that of the lowest-level thugs in the ruined city.
Although reluctant, he would not disobey his superior's orders.
"We also need someone who can adapt to different situations." Lynn's gaze swept across the crowd, finally landing on Birdsong and Fragrance. "You'll work with Night Owl."
Birdsong and fragrant flowers paused for a moment.
He didn't join the crowd digging for materials; instead, he kept staring at the deep passageway.
He usually talks a lot of nonsense, but he shouldn't let us down when it matters. He'd love to take on this high-risk, high-reward exploratory job.
"Completely OK, bro. Take good care of me down there." Birdsong and Fragrance patted Night Owl's shoulder familiarly and handed him a piece of black bread that she had saved up.
"O-what the hell...?"
The night owl looked at the bird singing and the flower swaying with a puzzled expression, wondering what the person was talking about.
……
The two stepped over the broken rock wall that had been forcibly chiseled through, and the temperature plummeted.
The landscape before us is no longer the stalactite-covered terrain of Ant Cave.
Thick, dark brown tree roots, as thick as city walls, forcefully pierce through the granite from the cracks in the rock above, hanging in mid-air.
These are the very roots of the towering trees in the Magic Forest, extending to the very bottom of the earth, intertwined into a massive, oppressive net.
On both sides of the stone wall, one can vaguely see huge stone sculptures of human faces covered with thick moss, their empty eyes staring at the intruders who have no sense of awe.
The air was filled with the scent of decaying wood and damp earth that had been sitting for hundreds or thousands of years.
He stopped amidst the birdsong and fragrant flowers, sniffed, and felt a low-frequency vibration coming from ahead that made the soles of his feet go numb.
He glanced at the night cat beside him, which was almost blending into the shadows, and complained that this traditional method of sneaking along the wall was too inefficient and easily revealed the scent of living people.
Amid the astonished gazes of the indigenous people, the outsider walked to a patch of still-dry remains of a fire-poisoned beast.
He grabbed a handful of dark red pieces of viscera that emitted a pungent, acidic, and putrid stench, and smeared them evenly on his original white T-shirt and cheeks.
Then, he fell straight down onto the muddy and gravelly ground, using his hands and feet to crawl forward inch by inch, like a soft-bodied worm that had lost its dreams.
The night owl's eyelids twitched wildly. What the hell was this? Was it even working?
As a rigorously trained assassin from the ruined city, he had seen all sorts of stealth and assassination techniques, but a stealth style that ground dignity and principles to the mud was absolutely unlike anything he had ever encountered. Were these seemingly unkillable bastards' brains filled with garbage?
Despite the complaints, the night owl still leaped onto a thick, horizontal tree root like a ghost, peering down and feeling its way forward.
The source of the tremor finally came into view.
The dimly lit underground passage was illuminated by dozens of windproof lanterns hanging from tree roots. Several enormous monsters, covered in thick, yellowish-brown keratinous scales, lay panting in the mud.
These are earth dragons. Their long and thick bodies are tightly locked by iron chains as thick as an arm. At the other end of the chains are three ridiculously heavy vehicles.
It wasn't a horse-drawn carriage in the traditional sense, but a giant wooden trough made by hollowing out the middle of an ancient tree that was as thick as several people could hug.
Supporting this enormous weight were four heavy stone disc wheels that were very roughly polished.
Each time the stone wheel rolls forward, the friction between the stone wheel and the uneven rocky ground produces a low-frequency resonance that makes one's eardrums ache.
A dozen or so dark-skinned, shirtless guards stood on either side of the caravan. Their bodies were covered in mud to repel insects, and they were rhythmically striking huge animal-hide drums hanging from the edges of the carriages with large bone mallets.
The dull drumbeats echoed through the narrow underground space, which was the reason why the fire-eyed beasts had been scared away earlier. The high-frequency and powerful sound waves dispersed the monsters along the way.
Birdsong and fragrant flowers crept to the back of a protruding rock and held their breath. Two figures were standing beside the lead vehicle, talking.
One of them was dressed in a large, tattered black robe and held a wooden staff inlaid with dull crystals; he was clearly the manager of the caravan. The other was a burly guard leader.
"How much longer until we reach the surface?" The black-robed steward's voice was filled with deep exhaustion. "The earth dragon's food is almost gone, and three members of the team have already collapsed from inhaling underground miasma."
"Almost there, Steward. Once we cross that landslide area ahead, we'll reach the boundary of the abandoned city's sewers."
The guard leader gritted his teeth and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "But are we really going to go up there and try our luck? Those surface people are always cunning."
"We have no way out."
The black-robed steward gripped his wooden cane tightly, veins bulging on the back of his withered hand. "The City of the Forest hasn't seen a single grain of fresh wheat in three months. The luxury inn hasn't had a single guest for half a year; mushrooms are practically growing on the wooden floors of the lobby. If we can't dispose of this batch of ancient timber and iron ore and exchange it for enough coarse salt and rations, we won't survive until next month. What's more..."
The steward lowered his voice, a hint of unease in it: "The thing deep inside is making more and more noise. We need to establish a secure supply line before it completely destroys the foundation."
The night cat, crouching in the shadow of the tree roots above, heard the conversation clearly. But what chilled him to the bone even more than the famine in the forest city was the level of civilization displayed by this caravan.
He had previously wandered all over Treasure Island, but had never been to the City in the Woods.
The night owl's sharp eyes swept over the rough stone wheels, the crudely made cast iron machetes in the guards' hands, and the primitive method of driving away wild animals by beating drums.
This is a primitive city-state built on underground jungles and ancient ruins, where they struggle to survive by relying on brute force and the remnants of nature.
A huge logical gap tore through the night owl's mind.
He clearly remembered how the special envoy, who was acting under the banner of the Treasure Island Trade Arbitration Committee, had descended upon him in Pearl Harbor with an air of superiority.
It was a massive wooden airship that defied gravity and was driven by intricate gears and a levitating magic net.
The envoy who stepped down was dressed in an elegant silk gown and looked down at the crowd in Pearl Harbor with an air of condescension.
At the time, all the powers on Treasure Island believed that the city hidden deep underground in the forest possessed some lost remnant of a higher civilization.
But what I see with my own eyes is that the terrain here doesn't even have enough space to unfurl the sails of an airship. The natives can't even build metal wheels with bearings, and can only drag heavy stones through the mud.
If the city in the forest is so poor that it can't even afford to eat, its basic industrial level is even more backward than that of an abandoned city full of scrap metal.
So, where did that airship come from?
Is that so-called arbitration committee a shocking hoax of fabricated identities, or does it come from a distant dimension that is higher and more intangible than Treasure Island?
The earthen dragon below irritably spewed out a cloud of foul air, its thick tail slapping against the muddy ground and splashing up a spray of dirty water.
The birdsong and fragrant flowers, knowing when to stop, silently crawled backward, leaving a long trail of mud on the ground. The night owl also disappeared into the darkness, retreating with a belly full of doubts.
The two returned the way they came, and when they passed through the broken isolation wall, the atmosphere in the camp had changed dramatically.
The porridge buckets used for distributing rations were ruthlessly removed by several old men, and a rough wooden sign was erected in the center of the respawn point, with the new camp rules written on it in charcoal strips, officially ending the three-day free protection period.
The new players who were complaining about how bad the porridge tasted yesterday are now staring blankly at the empty wooden barrels, their stomachs rumbling with hunger.
The harsh rules of Treasure Island finally came crashing down on this group of free laborers.
To eat and pay the price of resurrection, you must work and earn credits.
Birdsong and Fragrance got up, dusted themselves off, and prepared to walk through the wailing newcomers to report the caravan's details to Lynn.
A metallic clanging sound came from the underground workshop not far away, abruptly silencing the noise in the camp.
Lynn stood beside the ancient machine tool that had just been cleaned of its rust. Under his gaze, the goose slowly pushed a magic crystal emitting a faint blue light into the groove of the base.
With a mechanical meshing sound, the massive gear train, which had been stagnant for countless years, began to turn steadily without any steam or gunpowder.