The master said that the so-called "Big Horn Legion" is simply a bunch of ragtag people and is not worthy of being personally attacked by the wolf warriors.

It is up to us, the "good rat people", to eliminate the "bad rat people", and we are evenly matched, using the waste.

It just so happens that we can also prove our loyalty to our masters and ancestors in this way.

The master said that as long as I can prove my ability and loyalty, I no longer need to be a tomb robber, and I can get rid of the name "Corpse Dog" and become a real warrior, qualified to participate in the Battle of Glory.

In this way, I was given a tattered bone knife and a shield made of a large turtle shell, and together with other tomb robbers, I went to the battlefield in a daze.

For me, killing the "bad rat people" has no psychological burden.

After all, "Rat People" is just a general term. Everyone has different bloods flowing in their bodies, and they also have all kinds of strange and different appearances. It is really difficult to have the feeling of "one of our own".

Even if we are really our own people, I believe that for both "good rat people" and "bad rat people", death is a kind of happiness, while living is endless pain.

I sharpened the bone knife again and again.

Make sure the blade is sharp enough to cut the throats of the "bad rat people" on the opposite side with one blow, so that these strangers can be relieved without pain in the shortest possible time.

And I look forward to meeting an opponent who is as particular as me, who can stab me in the throat cleanly, so that I can die early.

It's a pity that the master was right.

This rat rebel army, known as the "Big Horn Legion", is indeed a vulnerable ragtag group.

Relying only on hastily armed tomb robbers, a few slave soldiers and servant troops, and led by several strong men from the wolf tribe, we defeated the main force of the Big Horn Legion without any suspense.

My team even broke into the Big Horn Legion's lair like a chopping machine.

There, I met a woman called "Saint" by the rat rebels.

No, she is too young, many years younger than me.

Rather than saying she is a woman, it is better to say she is still a little girl.

Although she looks ugly, this mysterious girl possesses an extremely special ability.

Able to connect the spirits of everyone around him through his own dreams.

This ability, on the one hand, allows her to empathize with the pain, fear and despair of millions of rat people, and possesses a depth and maturity that far exceeds her appearance.

On the other hand, the huge pain stimulated her immature mind, beyond the limit of what she could bear, causing her to completely seal her soul. She was still innocent and innocent when she was seven or eight years old, or even only three or five years old.

There is no need or ability to understand the age of this cruel world, enclosed in the innocent and extremely beautiful dreams she created.

How can such a little girl who has penetrated the darkness of the world but chose to escape in dreams become a qualified and true "saint"?

I didn't kill her.

But when I found her, she was already dying.

Although he has innate talent.

But this "saint" does not have the ability to use totems to control talents like my master.

There is not enough golden mandala fruit and witch doctor's secret medicine to satisfy the hungry brain and body after stimulating talent.

And when she was stubbornly resisting, she ignored the pain of her brain being about to burn and burst, and crazily overdrawn her talent again and again, trying to drag us all into her dream.

As a result, she suffered a backlash from her talent.

He is about to die in front of me.

Before she died, she continued to pour her dreams into my mind.

It is a nightmare condensed from the pain and despair experienced by the tens of thousands of bad rat people who joined the Big Horn Legion.

There are also beautiful dreams spun by saints to help everyone escape from pain.

I don't know her intention.

Are they aware of my identity as a rat citizen and want to persuade me to betray my master, side with the rat rebels, and inherit the flag of the Great Horn Legion?

Or do you simply want me to continue living with the emotions and memories of so many rat rebels, as if I am carrying their souls?

How ridiculous.

I am like a bunch of rat hairs swept up by the strong wind, insignificant and unable to control myself.

Survival or destruction, when will it be my turn to decide?

The only thing I could do was to hug the saint's body and close her eyes.

The Great Horn Legion was destroyed.

And my master kept his promise.

I finally got rid of my identity as a tomb robber.

He was incorporated into a slave team and even became the squad leader.

The master even gave me a whip in a very rare and condescending manner, encouraging me to be brave and fearless of death, to fight bravely, to cleanse my humble bloodline, to defend the honor of my ancestors, and to live up to my master's appreciation.

I was so slapped that I grinned.

But I was extremely happy in my heart.

It's not because of the master's encouragement.

It's because I am about to charge into battle as a slave soldier and face the defense line composed of dwarf artillery, elven poison arrows and magicians.

I can die now, right?

With this goal in mind, I trained harder than any other rat slave soldier.

While adding countless scars to his body, he also mastered more and more killing techniques.

I try my best to fulfill the master's orders and win the master's favor and trust.

Just so that when charging into battle, I can stand as far forward as possible and die more happily.

However, every time it is late at night, I am obviously exhausted and should fall asleep.

But I always have a lot of weird dreams.

These are the dreams that the Saint of the Great Horn Legion poured into my mind.

That is, the common memories, emotions and will of the rat rebels.

It's really strange, those rat rebels are clearly living the same painful and hopeless life as I was as a tomb robber in the past.

But before they die, their most shining memory is not the pain that fills their entire lives.

But those insignificant, fleeting, beautiful and happy moments.

A wild flower growing on the roadside.

A particularly luscious datura fruit.

A rude joke.

A strong hug.

When winter comes, there is a nest of warm weeds, a bonfire that has not been extinguished, and a fragrant grilled fish.

These are memories as humble as dust.

Support the rat rebels, live and fight hard until they die like a true warrior.

I can not understand.

However, I seemed to be bewitched by the saint, and I also remembered that in my life, which is as dark as eternal night, there are not without moments that shine like stars.

I remember I once had a friend.

He is a master at catching and fighting toothworms.

Whenever we huddle together deep in the ancient tomb, in the dark and damp mud, where the owner cannot see.

He would encourage me to go everywhere to catch toothworms.

The toothworm he caught had two large, high-rising teeth, which were big and sharp. They could bite other people's teeth to pieces every time, and helped us win countless datura fruits.

Of course, this friend has long since died.

He fell into a trap and was stabbed to death, riddled with holes.

Just like other friends.

But I will never forget the big toothworm he once caught, which was as majestic and domineering as a chief.

And when he waved the big toothworm, he smiled from the bottom of his heart.

Seeing his smile, or even just thinking about his smile.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Suddenly, I didn't want to die so much.

Perhaps, the "Saint Girl" really implanted something into my brain before she died.

Implanted...the motivation and meaning to live.

Unfortunately, motivation and meaning alone are not enough.
To be continued...