Since then, he has hardly seen the sun.

The mechanism containing magma and venom deep in the Lost Temple is his toy.

The roar of the totem beast, the screams of the tomb robbers, and the sound of bones being ground and crushed by fangs are the only music.

The mist that lingers over the ruins of the ancient battlefield all day long, being impacted by the power of the totem and transforming into various forms of ferocious beasts, is the scenery he sees most.

As a helpless little thief, his mission is to act as cannon fodder and a human minesweeper. He is at the forefront of the entire tomb-robbing team and is responsible for exploring the most dangerous mechanisms and the narrowest secret passages.

The diameter of many secret passages is not much larger than a fist. Even a rat child of three or five years old must use special secret medicine to soften the bones before he can barely get in.

However, when encountering the twists and turns in the secret passage, there is a high probability that rat children will get stuck and suffocate to death inside.

Fortunately for "Jackal" Canus, he was just a lowly little thief at the beginning, and his master was only the weakest member of the wolf tribe, with a sparse population.

Their strength is so weak that even if they explore deep underground, they can't get any of the famous temples and ancient battlefield ruins recorded in war epics.

Often we can only explore those places that have been explored dozens of times by predecessors, and almost every piece of rust has been scratched until they shine brightly, trying to lick some leftovers from the fingers of predecessors.

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For the owner, such exploration certainly does not bring much bargain.

But for the little thief at the front, because a large number of traps have been triggered by previous people, the level of danger has finally been greatly reduced.

Coupled with a little bit of luck, Canus the "Jackal" grew up to the age of ten without any danger in the depths of the fragmented ancient tomb.

Unfortunately, because few rat children can live for five full years like him in the depths of temples, ancient tombs, lairs and ancient battlefield ruins, he is considered to be an experienced and mascot-like existence.

It became a hot commodity, and finally turned into a trophy in a fight between tomb robbers, and fell into the hands of another more powerful owner.

Now, what he will face is no longer a place that has been explored many times by predecessors, has no oil and water, and is less dangerous.

It is an unknown place that no one has explored for thousands of years.

However, it remains the same no matter what type of temples and tombs you explore.

The little thief will eventually die.

Either he died in this ancient tomb mechanism, or he died in the hands of the remains of the evil puppet in the ruins of the ancient battlefield.

Either die today or die tomorrow.

Originally, the future doomsday demon wolf thought that he had become accustomed to this kind of life. Faced with a cruel fate, he chose to sit back and wait for death, closing his eyes.

But now, as he grew older, he suddenly discovered that whenever he closed his eyes, there would always be a scene in front of him of two groups of tomb robbers fighting each other, and the new owner killing the old owner.

To this day, he could not forget that his old master was deep in the dark and narrow tomb passage. Before he could even extract the totem armor, he was pierced through the heart by a sharp blade, and more than half of his neck was cut off by a shovel with extremely sharp edges.

The cervical vertebrae were broken into two pieces, and blood was gushing out crazily.

At that time, he rushed in front of his old master.

Hearing a harsh "click" sound coming from behind him, when he turned around to look, he saw with his own eyes the old master's head, bent almost 180 degrees, hanging on his shoulders, with an extremely strange posture, and his eyes widened.

Her eyes were fixed on him.

You know, "Jackal" Canus has been working for this old master since he was three years old.

He had seen his old master crack countless mechanisms that seemed extremely sophisticated to a child.

I once saw my old master wearing a totem armor and fighting a vicious totem beast for 300 rounds.

He even saw the old master using a leather whip covered with thorns and bone spurs to severely flog those rat children who were unwilling to yield and kept their harvest. One of his little friends was whipped to death by the old master.

All the bones in his body were shattered, and his whole body was as soft as a puddle of mud. No matter how careful he was, he could not lift his little friend up.

Moreover, the old master also told them many stories.

I have talked about the cowardice and sins of the rat tribe, I have talked about how it is natural for warriors to rule Turanze, and I have talked about their current adventures and sacrifices, which is to wash away the shame deep in their blood.

Canus the Jackal originally believed these stories.

He firmly believes that the rats should be enslaved from birth.

He firmly believes that pain is atonement, a part of life, or even the whole of life.

He firmly believes that rat tomb robbers are absolutely not qualified to use ancient weapons and armors excavated from temples and ancient tombs. Even if they accidentally touch them, they will trigger the thunderous wrath of the ancestors and even cast a curse. The next time they explore,

Let the rat tomb robbers die tragically in the mechanism in the most horrific way.

He believed that his master, a wolf with pure blood, was a god-like existence, blessed by ancestral spirits, invincible, and immortal, not to mention that weak and humble rat people like them could resist.

But now, when his master died tragically in front of him, "Jackal" Canus suddenly realized that his master was vomiting blood, twitching all over, and incontinent, just like when the rat people died tragically.

The blood that the master splashed on his face was as smelly and warm as the blood of the rat clan, and contained an aura of panic and incredible fear.

The master collapsed on the ground, and when the light in his eyes gradually dimmed, no ancestral spirit came out to bless and protect him.

Even at the last moment of his life, the master reached out to him twitchingly, as if he was asking for help from a little rat child.

This picture seemed to be deeply imprinted in his mind with lightning. While it shattered the old world, he couldn't help but start thinking.

Think about a new world and a new path.

Fortunately, deep in the ancient tomb, which was silent and murderous at every step, as a vanguard soldier, he had plenty of time to think alone and calmly.

Think about why, rat people are naturally discriminated against and enslaved.

Thinking about why, my appearance is almost the same as that of the wolf tribe, except that I have an extra pair of rodent incisors. There is such a huge difference between my destiny and that of the wolf tribe. The wolf tribe is like a male flying in the sky.

The eagle himself is like a maggot huddled in the abyss.

Thinking about why, although his strength has been continuously improving after escaping from death again and again, and the power he has cultivated in secret is even stronger than many wolf tomb robbers, he is still not qualified to touch any item that contains the power of a totem.

Sacred weapons, every time you explore, you must charge forward, perform the most dangerous tasks, and dismantle the most sophisticated mechanisms.

But when it comes to dividing up the trophies, you don't have your own share at all. Even if you look at the trophies more often, the new owner may be whipped even more fiercely than the old owner.

Thinking about why, fellow rat people fell one after another to the sharp blades of traps, secret passages, secret rooms, totem beasts and the remains of evil puppets, but their faces were always numb. When death came, they even felt a little relieved.

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Thinking...whether the blood of the new master smells as fishy as the old master and all the rats. When the new master's neck is severely cut by a sharp-edged shovel, will he vomit blood like the old master?

, limbs twitching, feces and urine flowing out?

In this kind of thinking, "Jackal" Canus gradually grew up.

The rat characteristics on his body gradually faded, and the wolf characteristics became more and more obvious.

Once, while exploring an ancient tomb, he accidentally broke two of his front teeth.

While he was bleeding profusely and covering his mouth, the rat friends around him were startled and looked at him with extremely envious eyes.

At that moment, "Jackal" Canus realized how similar he was to the real wolves.

After all, his mother, his mother's mother, his mother's mother's mother... had been a female slave of the wolf tribe for all his life.

Just like the vast majority of rat people who are kept in captivity by clans rather than roaming freely in the mountains.

Canus the Jackal didn't know who his father, his father's father, or his father's father was.

Nine times out of ten, he is a pure-blooded wolf clan.

But no one will admit it.

No matter how crazy the beasts are in the dark night, in the daytime, slaves are slaves and nobles are nobles.

One drop of blood rule.

As long as there is a drop of the vile blood belonging to the rat clan flowing in the body, you will be a rat clan forever.

"Why?"

In his youth, "Jackal" Canus, deep in the lost temple, covered his bleeding mouth and asked his extremely long and narrow shadow under the reflection of the spiritual flames.

From that moment on, a small seed sprouted in the heart of the rat boy with missing front teeth.

The seeds at that time may not be called "ambition".

He just wants to live and live the life that an ordinary Turanian is entitled to and should live.

What happened next was both coincidence and necessity.

"Jackal" Canus's team of tomb robbers, while exploring a lost temple deep underground, inadvertently released power they shouldn't have released, destroying half of the temple and the narrow passage leading to the ground.

Half of the tomb robbers were swept by the shock wave and crushed by the falling rocks, and died miserably.

The other half of the tomb robbers were seriously injured, lost most of their supplies and tools, and were buried alive in a narrow, humid, and hot underground space.

Resources are limited and space is confined. The God of Death is hovering above the survivors, opening his bloody mouth at any time and exposing his fangs of death.

In this situation, the evil of human nature and the beauty of animal nature bloom to the extreme like piranha.

The survivors were divided into two groups.

The wolves were smaller in number, but originally controlled this tomb-robbing team.
Chapter completed!