Monarch of Evernight

Close to the side of the swamp outside the town is a staggering cemetery. At first glance, there are ruined tombstones everywhere, more a grave bag, not even a tombstone. There's no idea how many graves there are, not to mention tens of thousands more.

The existence of graveyards is at least a hundred years old. Somehow Black Mud Town has a tradition whereby whoever dies nearby will spontaneously dig a grave for him there. People in town are dead and buried here. And over time, there's this spectacular place to bury bones.

The precipitous hills that lie ahead bear witness to centuries of extraordinary struggle between humans and the environment, and the death of dark races, in this barren land.

After watching the land in front of him for a thousand nights, he passed through the cemetery and walked into the dark mud swamp.

Dark mud swamps under the night are filled with a light layer of grey mist, and even with night vision for thousands of nights, the field of view is only a few dozen meters. The closer you get to the swamp, the clearer that unusual stench becomes, and it seems to mix hundreds of uncomfortable scents. This stench can make organisms outside the marsh unbearable, and sharp sense of smell can largely fail.

The edge of the marsh has no obvious boundaries, and most places are like plain mud, covered with a thin layer of plants that look like herbs. It's not just plain weed, it's got moss and ferns mixed together. The exterior is dense and flat, but below is not the whole field, but the myriad pits of mud hidden from the bottom. Once trapped, ordinary people will not be able to climb out at all and will be swallowed up alive by the Black Swamp.

This muddy terrain, of course, can't last a thousand nights. He stepped forward, his boots treading muddy, steady and fast. If his feet suddenly soften, the whole person will instantly become frivolous, and the black swamp won't even be able to reach his boots and be trampled over.

Thousands of nights are trained in special terrain, and Huwei learns from the experience of distinguishing the deep swamp below from the species of plants. Even so, his eyesight cannot be avoided every time. Sometimes it is necessary to step on to know if the foot is actually on the ground, and the dark muddy swamp terrain can be seen. Only the resilience and strength of senior fighters above level 5 can tolerate miscalculation and remain at ease in such situations.

After walking for a while, he suddenly stopped, pulled out a multipurpose knife at his waist and dug a dark vine out of the mud. He swung the knife and cut it off from the vine, and the juice seeping out of the cut turned out to be thick orangutan red, like thick blood.

It is a specialty of blood vines, black mud marshes, and an important ingredient in many medicines. One of its most famous aids is its ability to be compatible with multi-ingredient stimulants, which can be added to greatly improve drug potency, and the elite regimental stimulants contain essentially blood vine ingredients in their formula.

This is one of the drivers of attracting large numbers of Duplicants and drug collectors into the Black Swamp. Even in Black Stream, you can sell several gold coins, such as a long, short cut of blood vine in your hand. It is the ultimate asset for the waste-pickers to change their destiny.

Blood vines are not named for their bloody juice, but because too many people have paid their lives to take it.

Suddenly a strange buzz in the darkness, closer and closer to the ears, some flying insects the size of fingers constantly appeared, flying around the thousands of nights. These flying bugs were attracted to the smell of the truncated vine in his hand. They are like flying ants that have been enlarged several times, the mouthpiece is extraordinarily stubborn, and the poison needle at the tail is unstable.

These flying insects are common, but in black marsh environments, they are much larger than their peers, and toxins become more lethal. As soon as the vine comes into contact with the air, it emits a special odor that attracts the surrounding flying insects.

Skilled drug collectors treat blood vines underwater and wrap them in special medicine bags to maximize odor distribution. Less skilled wastepickers wrap themselves from head to toe in a special leather outfit, leaving them to bite, and when their poison needles are all used up, the danger passes.

At this moment, the right hand is lifted slightly, and a strand of blood is caught in the force sending out the fingertips. The trajectory of flying insects dancing in the air is suddenly chaotic, like encountering dangerous beasts, even tempted by the smell of blood vines, but not too close to be warned by instinctive fear.

But the danger does not stop with these flying bugs. Surrounded by a lump of muddy water at the root of a series of ferns, suddenly a ripple appeared, and a pale shadow of darkness burst under the cloudy mud. Starting without a sign, fast over lightning, close to each other, a thousand nights could not escape, felt a pain in the calf, then turned numb, instantly unconscious.

A snake-shaped creature half a metre long pounded from the water, with a pointed corner on its head, sharp and unmatched, only once pounded, the hole penetrated the interwoven defensive wire mesh in the compartment of the Thousand Night Army boots and stabbed directly into the calf.

Snakes, another danger associated with blood vines. If flying insects mean lethal danger, then the horn snake, once present, is equivalent to death itself. The horns of the horns are hollow, and this is their blood-sucking organ. Moreover, the horny snake poison is lethal. At present, there is no effective antidote except for the military serum of the special effect snake poison. Once poisoned, it can only be resisted by physical qualities and force.

The physique of the blood family makes it naturally resistant to biotoxins for thousands of nights. The numbness caused by the horny snake feels that it is no longer going up at the knee. It is not fatal, but it still has an effect, so the intensity of the toxin can be seen. No wonder Huli would say that people entering the Black Mud Swamp are taking their luck.

The night has been unusually motionless. When the horn snake started sucking blood, the wound on his leg started to feel, and he could feel his blood pouring out. And the dark gray belly of the horn snake, it's getting drummed.

Thousands of nights, when it was estimated that the serpent was about to suck blood, it relaxed the pressure on the blood gas in the body, and a normal blood gas rushed right out of the heart, cleverly finding the blood that was spilling and blending it out.

The horn snake suddenly bounced off the leg of a thousand nights, and then rolled in the mud, fluttering, struggling, turning around, stiffly stationary on the water, half heavy and half floating, no more moving.

That blood gas, for it, is a poison that cannot be resisted at all.

Put away the blood vines for a thousand nights, walk around again, and clean up most of the traces you left behind. But if you look closely, you will notice that the blind corners are not completely cleared and that you can still find something from the broken marks. As for the horn snake, it didn't move for a thousand nights, so let it stay there.

I looked around the scene again and felt satisfied for thousands of nights before proceeding to the depths of the Black Marsh. This time, however, his footsteps were much heavier, and several times he escaped from the deep swamp, leaving many traces.

At this moment, despite his usual colour, he is in a state of heightened vigilance, initiating blood lurking and intentionally controlling the blood gas in his body.

He had a hunch that the blood jazz he saw in Dark Mud Town not only didn't leave, but even tracked him into the Black Marsh. Though it took so long to detect signs that could be traced, the faint sense of crisis never dissipated.

It was the sensation of blood gas in the body of a thousand nights on the blood force of a jazz. Even if the other side later converged its breath and could not find his true orientation, that sensation remained, so long as it had not completely dissipated, the possibility of a jazz of blood still wandering nearby still existed.

After a thousand nights of being attacked by hornet snakes, he suddenly came up with a bold plan, and he didn't know if the arrangement would be useful for that high-ranking blood family. A blood family that dares to penetrate so deeply into human territory and cannot remain after being discovered is obviously also an experienced veteran and may not be easily reckoned with. But the night was not half agitated, and the marshes of black mud were vast, followed by time and opportunity.

Shortly after the thousand nights of walking, the scenery in the corner of the black swamp suddenly twisted, as if a shadow had condensed from the void. His whole body was wrapped in a dark cape and his eyes glowed in the dark red light at night. He squatted down and looked at the water in front.

From this angle, you can see a blurry footprint underwater. Light footprints disappear in less than a few moments in an environment where the black swamp seems calm but dark streams are everywhere. This footprint remains to this day, indicating that the steps taken at that time were particularly heavy.

Instead of looking forward, the blood jazz looked back in the direction of the footprints, and then got up, and the whole shadow became blurred and twisted, and a little floating, walking around like a thousand nights losing weight.

A moment later, he found a place where blood vines were dug for thousands of nights, and saw the horn snake still floating rigidly on the water. In the Black Swamp, a horn snake is a dominant, and even if it dies, it will not come close to any swamp creature for a long time.

The blood jazz walked towards the horn snake, but only a few meters away, he suddenly shook his whole body and stopped abruptly!

He slowly took off his cap, revealing his silver hair and clear and dignified face, and his deeply hooked mouth and eagle falcon eyes made him feel the cold cruelty of his heart. At this moment, however, his face was slightly twisted, his throat blurred with a low, almost howling groan, and even his blood-sucking fangs came out of his lip corner.

He stared at the place, growing a bush of low bushes. The shrub is twisted, full of thorns, and a few thin inky green leaves are extended at the top.

The jazz breathes deeply, allowing the sense of smell to guide itself, slowly approaching the shrub. Eventually, he found the target, a drop of blood stained on the leaves, that had dried up.

Despite the dryness of the blood, the residual scent is still so sweet. What does it taste like when it's still alive?

The blood jazz approached the blood drops, took another deep breath, then held his breath, closed his eyes and revealed an intoxicating expression.