EBE Chapter 97 Gold Miners
Chapter 97 Gold Miners
Xinwu looked at the worm in his palm, still hesitating.
"Hey young man, it's biting you."
A voice sounded from the side.
Xin Wu looked down and realized that the worm, which had been on the verge of death, had somehow split open at the front, biting through his skin, and half of its body had burrowed into his flesh.
And there was an old man beside him.
The old man was dressed as a miner, covered in dust and dirt, with a pickaxe on his back, as if he had just crawled out of the ground.
"What are you spacing out for?"
"Since the young man is interested, he should give it a try. After all, there are always risks involved in mining."
The old man looked at him and continued speaking.
"Last time you went too shallow and I didn't get a chance to talk to you. How about I take you down the mine this time?"
"Going down into the mine?"
Xinwu looked at the person in front of him.
He didn't understand who the other person was or what they were saying. The foreign sensation in the wound was spreading up his arm, and he wondered if he was being hallucinated by the symbiote.
The old man didn't explain; he simply raised his hand and placed it on his shoulder.
The surrounding environment has changed.
Deep trenches, liquid, mist—all the scenery vanished before my eyes, turning into nothingness.
In the absolute darkness, tiny points of light appeared.
The light spots gradually elongated and dissipated, like stars shifting and turning.
Countless bizarre illusions appeared before Xinwu's eyes, incomprehensible and indescribable.
I don't know how much time has passed.
The illusory scene began to reconstruct itself.
A rock wall appeared before him, stretching and extending into the distance, with several thick wooden pillars supporting a low dome. A complex, bottomless mine tunnel appeared around Xinwu.
This scene, however, perfectly complemented the dusty, old miner before them.
Such a miracle is unheard of and could not possibly be accomplished by an ordinary race.
Moreover, the resonance deep within one's bloodline cannot be faked, and he immediately realized the true identity of the person before him.
He is the god of the salarymen!
"Great..."
Just as Xin Wu was about to speak, he prayed to the gods to grant him a way for the Xin Clan to defeat their powerful enemy.
But the sound got stuck in his throat.
He could no longer make a sound. Xinwu raised his hand in terror to touch his cheek. His mouth had disappeared; where his lips should have been, only a smooth, flat piece of flesh remained.
Be careful what you say.
"If you utter my name in his divine realm, I may not be able to protect you."
Thus the gods spoke.
After he finished speaking, the skin on Xinwu's face separated to the sides like ripples in water, and his mouth returned to its original state.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
He took deep breaths of the long-missed air, overwhelmed with emotion.
Creation and rule-altering—the gods can so effortlessly distort reality.
Could it be that the place we are in right now is also a creation of the gods?
"This is the depths of the worm swarm's collective consciousness." Liang Jiu saw his confusion and explained, "You've reached its shallower layers before, the nests that exist only within consciousness, the place where all information is delivered."
"Opportunities and risks coexist, but the value of the opportunity far outweighs your current position."
"The deeper level is more abstract and complex than the shallow level, and ordinary people can never reach it in their entire lives, but I have made it into a form that you can understand."
Xinwu hugged the sword in his arms tightly, calming his emotions.
"My lord, have you summoned me here to bestow upon me a task?"
The old man smiled and led him on a tour of the mine tunnel.
"Don't be in such a hurry, young priest."
"At least let me see if you're qualified to help me."
"How do you think collective consciousness, or Gestalt theory, works?"
Xin Wu was stunned for a moment.
He recalled what he had seen in the shallow cave and, thinking of the dire wolf's ability to send coordinates after it died, tentatively said...
"They don't think independently; all the individuals are collecting information and then transmitting that information to a medium..."
He hesitated at this point.
How could a mortal body disregard spatial distance and complete such a massive information exchange in an instant? The conjecture was too terrifying, and he dared not continue speaking.
"Like divine power, right?"
Liang Jiu completed the remaining inferences for him.
"The magical power transformed from faith can ignore the barriers of space and connect every individual together, easily reaching realms that life can never touch. One is all, and all are one."
Xin Wu felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.
"But, sir, doesn't this mean... there should be someone here...?"
"A worm god," Liang Jiu replied affirmatively. "But don't worry, he's currently being held back by me and has lost control of this mental system."
"What do you mean?" Xinwu asked.
"You are here now, with almost unlimited time to squander. You don't need to care about your physical body in reality."
Liang Jiu tossed the pickaxe in his hand to Xin Wu.
Xinwu caught it.
"Do some sabotage here, or help them change the lines, do whatever you want." The old miner turned and pointed to the depths of the dark mine tunnel.
"Of course, there are also some treasures buried in this mine that can enhance your understanding of faith..."
As he spoke, the old man's voice became somewhat indistinct.
"To K."
A voice rang out in the mine shaft without warning.
It wasn't a language Xinwu was familiar with; the sound was mixed with harsh noises, yet when it entered his mind, Xinwu immediately understood its meaning.
Then, another voice came to mind.
"You didn't cheat again, did you?"
Xinwu snapped out of his daze.
The old miner in front of us has disappeared.
He was the only one in the dimly lit mine tunnel.
And a manuscript?
The wooden handle has some barbs, and the front end is already somewhat rolled.
It looks like an ordinary tool, but things left behind by the gods are never useless.
He carried a long pickaxe and walked forward along the mine tunnel.
The sound of hurried footsteps came from deep within the passageway.
It looked like something was wandering aimlessly.
Miner's lamps, flickering on and off, hung on both sides of the rock face. Using the dim light, Xinwu tiptoed toward the fork in the road ahead.
Buried in the loose soil on the ground was a piece of white bone.
Its long, narrow shape resembles the fang of a dire wolf.
Xinwu bent down, and as soon as his fingers touched the edge of the bone, a massive flow of information surged into his mind through his fingertips.
Abdominal cramps.
A biting, icy wind.
That was the memory of a dire wolf before it died. It had strayed from the pack due to hunger, and was running wildly following the scent of blood, only to be impaled on the wasteland by a spear that fell from the sky.
Xinwu opened his eyes.
The fangs in his hand had turned into a puddle of ash, slipping through his fingers.
Are these the treasures the gods spoke of?
The information left behind by individuals consumed by the swarm before their death. Collecting and assimilating the perceptions of all hosts, turning the memories of the dead into nourishment for the Gestalt—is this the cornerstone of the swarm's consciousness?