Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

Extreme celestial world, celestial star.

Emperor.

At this moment, the situation in the center of the star sea, in the heart of the real human empire, is like the frozen river surface in early spring and February. Although the ice is long overflowing, from shore, it is still a dead silence surrounded by ice fog. All the little fish shrimp are locked in the ice, with no signs of ice melting.

Instead of aggressively attacking Emperor Du as the intelligence reports, the rebels loyal to the revolutionaries played a trick to get away from the mountains, hit the west, and massively killed into the heart of the Li family - the movement was too big to hide the eyes and ears of the remaining three families.

But after all, the rainfall realm in the Valley was too sensitive. The Li family blocked all news, claiming to mobilize the elite first and solve the rebels themselves. The other three families were also not good enough to suddenly kill into the heart of the Li family to “help leverage the rebellion”, which can only be viewed as a wall.

Not to mention the fact that the rebel gods did not go out and Thunder Feng really impressed the families of the four major electorate emperors. The small riots and rumors of the emperor have not stopped. Who knows if this is a rebel plot, maybe wait for the four families to relax their guard against the emperor, and the rebels will do something big in the emperor.

Yes, the elite family of the four electorate emperors are still stationed in Didu, only the Li family slightly draws back some of the main forces.

To think in the shadows, the other three families may not have laughed in the dark. Better the rebels can stir up the mess between the five dirty hearts of Li's family, the better. Even if Li's family asks them to help out, they must talk about the terms first!

After a long time, the paper will definitely not hold the fire.

For three or five days, however, the situation has remained delicate and even still.

On the other hand, the real human empire is too big to affect every corner instantly as a result of any serious disturbance.

The empire is like a dinosaur hundreds of kilometres long, even when the tail is on fire and the nerve ends are sending painful signals, it still takes a long transmission to reach the brain, and even the entire tail is burned out, not necessarily perceived by every cell around it.

This is especially true of the bacteria and worms that live in the wrinkles around this super dinosaur of the Empire.

No matter how overwhelming the superior, how conspiratorial, how revolutionary, how propagating the empire, victory, human civilization… such generous, smallpox words, the most important question for these bacteria and bugs remains how to pay yesterday's bill and find today's food, so that they may have a family to survive.

The main continent where the palace and senate are located, the Black Star Continent, the Underground City District, District 36.

It is absolutely true to describe the dark corners of the Empire's glow with “wrinkles”.

Because these old emperors and blood gods fought violently against torn canyons, narrow and dark, mixed with dragons, smoky, like a staggered, dirty fold, all over a giant beast of immortality.

Each fold is a large area, with sections of thousands to tens of thousands of metres from top to bottom, living in millions or even tens of millions of people, more than a mega-city in the outer world.

During the day, these “creases” release smoke and steam to the ground, and at night, there are blurry and dim lights, such as sparkling smoke and dust.

This is the only sign that you are present and still alive, an ant family that lives deep in the dark folds all the time.

District 36 is a district closer to the palace and senate and belongs to the "prime place”, with relatively good security and environment.

Two hundred metres underground, in the shallow surface of "the opportunity to shine the sun at noon”, is a “noble area” for the entire underground system.

There are two main categories of persons who are eligible and financially able to live in the district.

The first category is the original elite, often the foreman of underground factories, very few lucky entrepreneurs, and the family of fairy fixers or high-end dog legs.

On the other hand, there are fairy fixers - losers among real people, bankrupt people who have no way to get to the ground and burn into the demon's badly injured waste.

Considering “weak flesh and strong, winner and eater” as the true world of fixing fairies, the survival competition is incredibly cruel. This cruelty is manifested not only in the oppression of "real people" against “original people”, but also in your dead and merciless struggle within fixers.

If you want to win, you need to do everything you can to cultivate the higher realms; regardless of your situation, a crazier impact to the higher realms causes a very high chance of fire demons and heart breaks; once you cultivate your own problems, or fail, injure, seriously ill, or even slowly age under the constraints of the laws of nature… For many reasons, the realm falls to the bottom of the valley, becomes waste, and you have no more value to use, the next stage is often terrible.

Just as the so-called "one will succeed in dying bones," a fairy practitioner rushes to the sky, perhaps 99 fairy practitioners fall into the abyss, especially for the belligerent fairy practitioner who licks the blood of the knife.

Because of their professional characteristics, they are many times more likely to be seriously injured and torched than any other fairy practitioner, and kill all the time, inevitably leaving many hidden dangers for the body, as well as the possibility of forming endless enemies.

In spring and autumn, when the blood is strong, cultivated to its peak, naturally you can drink pond meat grove, rampant hegemony, and powerful wind, but in case of illness, injury, aging or fire into the demon, no powerful heirs have been taught on weekdays, and if there is nothing to save, it is extremely easy to fall from the peak to the bottom of the valley and fall into pieces of bone.

Hidden names have fallen into the underground world, making them almost the only way out.

There are many examples of the formerly powerful who, under poverty and impoverishment, have become fighters, mercenaries, killers, the lowest underground arena fighters.

Overdraft life, burn the soul, squeeze the last drop of sweat in exchange for a handful of Imperial crystalline coins, immediately converted into ultra-high strength medical and painkillers, even stimulants with extreme paralysis and hallucinogenic effects, can't wait to be injected into deformed, swollen blood vessels, crooked in the dark, damp corners of the wall, fantasizing about the resurgence of East Mountain in a mystery of light and land, and slowly freezing and stiffness - this is the sad and inevitable end of many fairy repairers.

In a way, these fairy practitioners are even more miserable than ordinary people.

The average person can go to a sweatshop to work and survive as long as there is a little synthetic food that tastes like chewing wax. If you can add a few slices of "ham chips” pressed from oil to the thin porridge, it's a delicious dish.

But the fairy repairer, even the elderly, wounded immortal, can never pull down his face and “the original" to work together, become a common component on the pipeline.

Besides, making a job in exchange for a little money isn't enough to fill their stomachs with the same guts as their bottomless holes, let alone the same medical bills as astronomical numbers.

Once a fairy is cultivated, it is to embark on a path of non-return filled with thorns. It can only go forward until it is destroyed, but it can never be turned back. It can no longer be a normal person.

Thirty-six districts were filled with such people, ghostly immortals, and no sects, forces, groups and families were willing to take in the waste.

In the last six months, the amount of such waste has increased tenfold, making the already overcrowded underground world more noisy and chaotic.

These newly underground losers are officers of all ranks who have been eliminated from expeditionary disarmament - principally officers of the ranks of generals who have been seriously injured, repaired and plummeted in the ranks of miscellaneous armies, and who have struck out their troops again, a light rod commander.

Thirty years ago, the Empire, determined to launch the largest strategic counterattack in nearly 500 years, carried out an unprecedented overall national mobilization to expand its forces, even if in the past it was not allowed to have too strong a fleet of peripheral world miscellaneous armies, which received a central promise to expand as much as it breathed.

In order to seduce these miscellaneous army hillbilly fairies to work for the Empire - or to fetch chestnuts in the fire for the families of the four electorate emperors, in addition to all kinds of military assistance, ranks, numbers, medals, and titles fly in the sky, don't throw out as much money as they do.

Hundreds of years ago, the imperial ranks and titles were judged fairly strictly. In the absence of large-scale warfare for centuries, there were really yuan infants mixed their whole lives, and it took the elderly to judge Major General and Lieutenant General things to happen.

But this time, it's really called "under the mudstone, the chicken dog rises to heaven”, and any Golden Dane strong man in the outer world can pull up a team, even a converted semi-armed transport fleet of civilian carriers, and mix up “Major General, Lord Empire” and other powerful hats, regardless of whether his head is that big or not.

This kind of person is called "General Miscellaneous" in the upper echelons of the Emperor's social circle, all worthless jokes.

But there are a lot of fairy builders in the outer world who haven't known each other, or ambitious people who want to throw and fight a big, rich guy, holding on to these hats like "Colonel Chief of Staff, Major General Commander”, with the kids from their hometown, with hard scalps, wow strange screaming to the front.

How could these sophisticated, simple-minded guys be opponents of the Four Major Election Emperors' family, who have raped the cunning generations, be easily played into applause and turned into other people's chess pieces and cannon dust?

Better luck, being sent to the third war zone under the thunder of the "god of war", may also preserve his own troops and head, even if he dies, it counts as death and fierce.

But more "Miscellaneous General”, really sold to help people money, didn't know how to die, didn't take a few years of kung fu, took to the front line all the troops, they all vomited on the battlefield leaching blood, seriously injured themselves, the realm fell a thousand times, even lack of arms broken legs, Dantian and Lingen burned badly.

In exchange, it's either a few tinkling medals, or "rank plus one, jazz up one”, or a variety of smallpox crashing empty cheques, like “final victory," how to seal the reward, wherever it is, etc.

As for what is meant by "final victory”, I am sorry, the right of final interpretation is firmly pinned in the hands of His Majesty… the family of the four main electorate emperors.