Charles was not aware of a problem he used to judge the criteria when he first came, which caused an old man who was still wearing a plaster ply and hanging his arms to be beaten again, and the account was still settled on him.

But even if he knew, he wouldn't regret it because he was constantly getting stronger.

Whether this is practice, fitness or exercise, the essence is the same, that is, constantly surpassing oneself and breaking the limits of the body. Combined with some special alchemy potions, this is no longer something that cannot be done, and then you will become addicted.

In fact, this kind of addiction is not just a simple addiction to becoming stronger, but a human instinct, an instinctive addiction to numbers.

Today I can push a 150-pound barbell, and tomorrow I can push a 160-pound barbell. Each physical change has an accurate number to correspond to, one is one, two is two, and it cannot be faked, and this is the most real self.

Then these numbers continue to rise, and as long as they sweat, they will definitely change. This is different from the efforts advocated by mainstream society. You can see, feel, and then get addicted to it.

The process of being able to feel more comprehensively as you become stronger, dominate your body, and feel the process of the world becoming small in your own eyes, making people addicted.

This is also the reason why there are so many muscles and sticks, and they are deeply trapped in it.

The girl quickly sat down and turned into a lying lie, "You seem to have a special skill, next is my back and waist, and my legs..."

Shorts and strapless brass, these two things no longer exist in Charles' eyes. Just use the skin to cover the color of these two clothes in your mind, and the girl is equally naked in front of him. Sometimes he doesn't understand. Women say that they need to be treated fairly every day, but look at them, as long as they are willing, it is difficult for men to refuse any request.

Shire walked to her straight ahead without hesitation, closed her palms and spread her thumbs apart, and pressed her slightly hard on the raised muscles on both sides of the girl's spine, pressed the tight muscles down, and then pushed down along the outline of her body...

Shire does know some unique massage skills. He is a smart student. In another world, there are many girls who take the initiative to teach him similar skills, and soon he becomes an expert.

His back, buttocks, thighs, calves..., his skills are very skillful!

The girl's muscles quickly relaxed and expressed her gratitude more than once.

Finally, the girl stood up from the bench, and she looked at Charles with a strange expression, "I don't know how to describe it. It can make people relax, but it is definitely not a serious massage method..." Charles was also a little embarrassed.

After the girl came back from taking a shower, Charles was actively improving his explosive power - there were five spring steel cables on one wall, locking his waist and limbs, and when he reached the same limit, he started to punch sandbags. If he could not burst out the strongest power in a very short time, he could not pull the steel cables at all.

Every continuous waving will tear a large number of muscles, but his strength and explosive power will also increase accordingly...

The girl looked at him and withdrew her gaze. The group of people remained silent, wearing very few clothes, venting their extra energy in the almost semi-enclosed space.

In the evening, after taking the alchemy potion, Charles slept for a short while. The Tomb Raiders Night event was held at 11:30, and there were still several hours. It was enough for him to replenish his energy while allowing his body to absorb most of the medicine. After he woke up, the group set off.

While on the way, Rotalie also said that this was their 35th time to go to the cemetery. As they got closer and closer to the fifty-two cycles, everyone's face was filled with a sense of yearning.

When they arrived at the cemetery, they happened to see the gravekeeper walking back. A group of people were watching him not far away. He was wearing a cloak and hood covering his face. He was a little bloated and staggering. The gravekeeper, who was carrying an oil lamp, slowly returned to the room and closed the door. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

If you come during the day, you can see the gravekeeper, an old man with a bald head, a hooked nose, and big eyes. He is a little funny during the day, but at night, he gives people a gloomy feeling.

After the lights in the room were completely turned off later, Rotalie began to assign tasks.

The cemetery is large and there is no more detailed management. Perhaps because of technical reasons, they can only transport some graves that need to be visited, and cannot classify the owners of these tombstones according to the spelling headers, which greatly increases everyone's work.

Shire was also assigned a task, he needed to check the names on each tombstone in a specific area, which was so stupid!

The silver-white moonlight reminded him of the battle that night. Earl Liszt's dead father appeared in front of everyone again and used his unique skills. Is the world after death really like what he described?

The soul is imprisoned in the body, rotting with the body, and in the darkness through countless years of precipitation, eventually becoming something unconscious, or self-destruction due to madness?

Everyone has to face this, and no one can escape. Charles sighed. He had died once, and he didn't want to die a second time.

Soon, his attention was focused on these epitaphs.

"I don't like the person next door. Can you help me move a seat?"

"I bet you don't know what I saw!"

"Tell me my grandson and grandson's sons, and my grandson's sons and my grandson's sons, and my grandson's sons, and my grandson's sons, and my grandson's sons' sons, and my grandson's sons' sons, and my grandson's sons' sons' sons, and my grandson's sons' sons' sons, and my grandson's sons' sons' sons, and my grandson's sons

In fact, most of the epitaphs are not pessimistic, mostly interesting or warm, which easily makes Charles pass the time. While rubbing his sore body, he checks every tombstone. Just as he checks the edge of his purpose, he suddenly hears a knock on the door.

Dongdongdongdongdongdongdong, it wasn't very clear, as if there were knocking on the door across the floor, and there were even people talking, "Hello, is there anyone outside?" The sound seemed to be coming from all around, but this was a cemetery, and there were not many people around, but the sound was still there, "I heard footsteps. If you are here, please move a little bit, I'm afraid it will hurt you..."

Shire looked down at a very old-fashioned tombstone beside him, raised the oil lamp to the distance and shook it. The friends immediately ran over from a distance.

"Finished?" Rotalie asked before she walked in, "Where is it?"

"Are you looking for me?"

"Who is talking?" Rotalie looked around and grabbed her eyebrows. She didn't see anyone. This was wrong, because the voice came from her. Just as she was about to ask Charle what was wrong, the ground trembled slightly, and a hand stretched out from the soil.

A muscle kid shouted "The Dead" and fainted with a burp.
Chapter completed!