Early next morning.
After everyone got enough sleep and had a hot breakfast in real life, everyone came back online refreshed.
The light strip at the lighthouse outpost on the east side has been switched to morning lighting. The four-legged biochemical RV parked at the end of the night made a low aerodynamic sound, and its four thick giant legs slowly propped up the body.
[Silverstream] Sitting in the driver's seat, he carefully checked the energy storage reading and nutritional balance, pulled down the protective brake, and turned around to count the heads in the carriage.
[Chubby Chef] stuffed half a cabinet full of pre-processed ingredients into the built-in storage cabinet; [Research Doctor] was empty-handed for the first time, and he looked particularly relaxed; the other three guild photography enthusiasts carrying various high-precision telephoto lenses crowded around the long table, and the excitement in their eyes was even greater than the main team's first kill of the World Boss.
"Doctor, where is your precious biochemical box?" The chef asked in confusion while tying up the material box.
"I'm on strike today, I won't bring it."
"Hey, aren't you afraid that Workshop Steward will block the door and ask you to add a single-specific filter element?"
"I'm selling industrial supplies, not selling my life! Today is my day off, no one wants me to move bricks!"
The doctor pushed the flat light Tactical Visor, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
The slender hands that were usually used to holding micropipettes and test tubes were so idle at the moment that they had nowhere to put them, so they conveniently took a small piece of iced fruit pulp cake from the bamboo snack box beside the table.
"Hey! Put it down! That one charges by the block!" The chef's eyes widened.
"Calculate the fare!"
"The car belongs to [Silverstream], why are you so generous to me?!"
Amidst the laughter and curses, the four-legged war beast took steady and heavy steps, avoiding the potholes in the outpost loading and unloading area, walking along the solid old road that had been completely bulldozed by the army, and strolling leisurely towards the thin mist on the old road.
Only a quarter of an hour after setting off, the small chess table in the carriage was already banging against the tabletop.
"You're a scumbag! That Bone Carved Rook you just walked in is clearly on this line!!"
"The car bumped! Do you understand the physics engine drift?!"
"Fuck you! You are a Tier Two Berserker. You can't even hold a chess piece as big as a fingernail?!"
[Silverstream] directly in front didn't even turn his head, with a trace of sarcasm hanging from the corner of his mouth. He pushed the joystick lightly to the left, allowing the war beast to cross a half-meter-wide weathered leyline fissure.
The car body then shook slightly rhythmically.
The two old men in front of the small table, who were arguing and blushing, were as fast as lightning. One of them stretched out a palm, and the movement was so fast that it almost caused an afterimage. They firmly protected the entire chessboard, and even the crumbling pawn on the edge was not able to roll away half an inch.
[Silverstream] glanced sideways at them through the rearview mirror and sneered at the last shot:
"Hey, now my hands are more stable than a surgeon's?"
A burst of laughter erupted in the back row that almost blew off the sunshade.
[Chubby Chef] Adjusted the bottom heat of the large slow-cooking iron pot to a gentle boil, locked the safety buckle, leaned against the window and looked at the wasteland receding along the way, and his eyes were full of comfort.
Yesterday he was still muttering to himself, it was just carrying a pot on his back to cook in the wild, wouldn't it be the same if he carried it and ran there?
But now I am really sitting comfortably on the soft seat with a sofa, blowing in the wind, watching people playing chess in the car, some looking through yesterday's scenery and snapshots, and there is freshly cut fruit pulp on the table...
The feeling of self-driving travel that flows in my bones can never be compared to traveling on two legs.
More than half an hour later, the war beast parked smoothly on a flat foreign dead shell at the foot of the cliff.
Scenic Shell Platform has arrived.
This is an ancient alien dead shell fault that was thoroughly baptized by the Berserk thunderfire in the battle. The slope near the road has long been stepped on by scattered natural stone steps by individual players who came to collect the news a few days ago.
A photography enthusiast with a tripod couldn't wait to open the car door. He didn't even wait for the pedal to be completely flat. He stepped on the rock wall and jumped up in the air like an ape. He crushed a pine shell with one foot. He twisted his waist and changed the landing point in mid-air. He stood firmly and kept the camera on his heart like a calf with his hands.
Berserker, who was climbing the ladder behind, saw this and couldn't help but laugh:
"Brother, if we fall to death in the game and it will refresh with full health in half an hour, are you going to risk your life to protect that broken guy?"
"People can be resurrected after death. If this high-resolution telephoto lens customized by a workshop is knocked off... my deposit will be deducted in full!!"
The photographer's heartbreaking roar immediately resonated with awe from all the equipment rental colleagues present.
[Silverstream] Pulled down the main handbrake, placed the parking support on the flat dead shell, locked the joystick, and led everyone up the last stone step.
However, the moment the group's boots actually stepped onto the top of the platform -
The few people who were originally bickering over who stole the last piece of cold cake suddenly froze in their voices.
Heaven and earth are silent.
What is presented before everyone's eyes is a vast picture that is enough to make any living soul tremble.
Looking far into the distance, the dark red divine body plain below, which once wailed amid the flames of war and thick smoke, is now like a sleeping ancient golden dragon, stretching up and down at the end of the earth calmly, magnificently and extremely comfortably.
The winding old road they took when they came has turned into a clear light track connecting this divine body Primordial Tissue; the towering lighthouse outpost in the distance, among the rolling biochemical mountains, is like a golden star that never goes out in the mist.
On both sides of the old road, a large area of Primordial Membrane that had been shriveled and turned white by parasitic roots has been nourished again, and the moist membrane surface is glowing with crystal clear splendor. Through the translucent thin wall, you can see the supporting branch road connected below, with dark red blood rushing forward, like a deep and shiny Yangtze River, pushing the huge tissues on both sides to slowly rise and fall!
That is the re-flow of ordinary circulating blood. Just this period of restored support has made the entire mountain-like Primordial Tissue appear alive again.
On the distant horizon, the black mist still weighs like thick ink on the dome of the deep forest sea that has never been visited.
But the entire dozens of miles of mountains and rivers extending from their feet...
Thanks to the battle of the players and the repair and reconnection of Weaver, we have ushered in an unprecedented dawn and rebirth!
"Fuck..."
The photographer beside him was holding the telephoto equipment in his hand blankly, his Adam's apple rolled, and after holding it in for a long time, he could only squeeze out this single word from his teeth.
[Chubby Chef] looked down at the flour marks left on his apron from preparing food last night. For the first time, he felt a sense of embarrassment and regret. He muttered, "I should have known... I should have found some clean clothes to change into before going out."
On the contrary, [Research Doctor] was free and easy. He raised one hand and formed a small viewfinder with his thumb and index finger. He took in the magnificent land in front of his eyes and grinned softly:
"You're all here, everyone... why don't you take a photo together, are you worth the ticket?"
The platform instantly turned into a noisy and chaotic command scene.
"That big brother with the ax on his back! Tuck your body inward! Your thick, black ax has blocked the entire shiny supply road underneath!!"
"Master Chef! Look at the camera! Stop peeking at the mushrooms on the ground!!"
"Put the lid down! Who told you to use the big iron pot lid as a reflector?! The whole highlight is stuck on my face!!"
The photographer Tier Three, who was responsible for taking the aerial shots, unfolded his own entity Flight Wings and hovered in mid-air more than ten meters away from the stage. He was desperately adjusting the focus while shouting at the top of his lungs.
[Chubby Chef] Angrily, he carried the newly polished large pot lid behind his back.
Click! Click!
As the shutter clicked continuously, the photographer changed several overhead shooting angles in the air, and finally folded his wings and glided to the ground with satisfaction.
Everyone cheered and swarmed up, pointing around the projection screen:
"Handsome! The look in my eyes is very deep and has the temperament of a god of war!"
"Delete, delete! I closed my eyes in that photo! It must be retaken!"
[Silverstream] Standing outside the circle of people, with his hands in his pockets, he carefully looked through each photo, then suddenly raised his hand and pointed expressionlessly at the bottom of the empty cliff:
"Where's the car?"
The photographer was stunned. "... Brother, what I just took was a group photo of all the heroes who have made great achievements in war."
"What is the agreement we signed before departure?" [Silverstream] stared directly at him, his eyes as stubborn as a wolf protecting its food:
"People, and my RV, must all be in the frame at the same time! If you lose one leg, you can run a marathon by yourself when you go back today!"
The photographer slapped his forehead in collapse, sighed resignedly, and honestly re-opened Flight Wings:
"Okay, okay! You are the uncle! Let me fly further outside and take a panoramic hard-core 'car owner picking up the car' movie for you. That's it!"
When the big picture of one person and one car with the background spanning the God's Body Resurrection Zone was finally released, a spacious folding awning had already been erected next to the biochemical RV on the edge of the cliff.
The marble-patterned folding bar is neatly arranged, and the heavy wooden lid of the two-meter iron pot is lifted by the magic chef!
Boom!
The strong and mellow mushroom fragrance mixed with the hot white steam swept over the top of the cliff like a waterfall in an instant!
[Chubby Chef] rolled up his sleeves majestically, and the spoon in his hand made a clanging sound on the edge of the pot:
"Where are those grandsons who just complained about me being a burden in the car?! Come here and get the bowl!!"
No one answered.
Several photographers who had just been busy posing on the shell table were already holding large porcelain bowls upright, staring eagerly at the tender mushroom slices rolling in the pot, and their saliva was almost flowing into the bowl.
The doctor sat at a small reinforced wooden table next to him. He tore open the packaging bag and put a small piece of shock-proof fiber on the corner of the table. He held the soup bowl happily and pulled the ultra-high-definition uncompressed original image that had just been transferred to the local Terminal with one hand.
However, when his fingertips slid over the original side and rear view shot from the outside and then replaced with a telephoto lens, his fingers froze suddenly.
Behind the tactical lenses, the eyes accustomed to microscopic anatomy suddenly condensed.
"Wait..."
The doctor bit the spoon and suddenly zoomed in part of the picture to the limit:
"Come here and see... on the shady side of this third fold... what is this suspended stone line?!"
Several people cheered and surrounded him.
I saw that in the very depths of the ultra-high-definition telephoto imaging, on the flanks of the dark red primary folds that traverse the earth, it was originally the direction of "Gray-White Abyss Old Wound" that the front team had previously calibrated and was temporarily prohibited from approaching.
And at the outer edge of that suffocating pale land of death--
A vague arc-shaped foreign dead shell beam, like an upside-down bridge, quietly poked its head out from the shadow behind the folds, along the outside of the cliff, zigzagging into the deeper shadow of the storm!
Viewed from the front, this overpass is tightly blocked by the black forest pillars in front;
However, just now, in order to find the most perfect golden side and rear perspective for [Silverstream]'s RV, the photographer flew nearly two kilometers along the outside of the confirmed safe shell platform. He missed the opportunity and used telephoto to fill in a few distant views, capturing this residual arc hidden in the eternal blind spot and capturing a faint silhouette!
[Silverstream] Pushed away the crowd and came forward, swiping his slender fingers on the light screen for comparison, and his expression quickly calmed down:
"The near end stretches out towards the mesa at our feet, but the middle and far ends are blocked by dead shells. Just looking at the photo, you can't tell whether the end is Guitou Cliff, so don't treat it as a ready-made road."
"Send to the frontline base camp!"
Photographers decisively package the negatives, mark them with their actual take-off point, viewing position and lens orientation, and send them with one click:
"Let the main team have the headache! Anyway, we have the clues for him!"
Just half a minute later.
In the front team's contact channel, [Vanguard Across the Realm]'s reply with obvious surprise and excitement came:
"This is a good angle! It matches the image and map of the front team. The two Tier Three scout teams have already set off. Let's approach from the outside dead shell first and see if we can move on the ground!"
"If this is truly a safe corridor that bypasses Abyss's old wounds..."
On the other end of the communication, [Vanguard Across the Realm]'s laughter was bold and cheerful:
"--After you return to camp, our guild will cover the maintenance bills for your equipment during this trip!!"
There are no sudden missions from divine soldiers, nor dazzling achievement pop-ups.
But several grown men present were holding bowls of hot soup, looked at each other, and suddenly burst out laughing at the top of the cliff.
"See! I just say there are benefits to walking around more!!" The photographer raised his chin proudly.
Berserker beside him angrily straightened the soup bowl he was about to spill over:
"Drink your soup! My hands are shaking like chaff in a sieve. I almost poured all the soup on my boots just now!!"
In the afternoon, the breeze is gentle.
The four-legged RV, which had eaten its fill of high-energy feed, took a more steady and leisurely pace and slowly made its way back along the old foreign dead shell road that had been cleared when it came.
The latest secret messages from frontline scouts have been flashed on the carriage screen--
The Tier Three scouts first flew along the outside of the gray belt, and actually checked the alien shell platforms at both ends of High Corridor. They then divided into two teams, walked to survey and check the images from both ends, and finally met in the middle. The confirmed detour line was indeed connected to the alien shell platform on the other side of the gray old wound here, and the entire section was outside the marked gray-white boundary!
There are still several weathered cracks in the middle section, and the scouts have marked the location. People can walk through, but the heavy-loaded convoy has to be inspected and reinforced section by section, and the entire army cannot be pressed up immediately; the old injury prohibition mark below is also retained as before.
But at least, a detour line that was previously blocked by folds was now really connected from both ends by them!
In the carriage, there was endless laughter and laughter.
Some people were humming songs while leaning on the soft cushions, while others were having fun holding the precious photo that was voted for by all members.
[Chubby Chef] was sitting next to the biochemical folding door that was wide open, with her legs dangling leisurely outside the car. She looked at the pretentious photo on Terminal that [Silverstream] repeatedly told her to enlarge, frame and hang it at the door of the store to prevent "artillery elements" from causing trouble. The more she looked at it, the hotter her heart became.
He turned his head, his eyes fell on the spacious and ventilated movable plug-in platform at the rear of the car, and he called out to [Silverstream] who was driving:
"Hey, [Silverstream] brother."
[Silverstream] Holding the joystick in his hand, he didn't even raise his eyelids. "Say."
"Say... if we install a rotisserie that can burn fruit charcoal on the iron shelf at the back of the car..."
The divine chef swallowed, his eyes filled with the wildest ambitions of common people:
"Let's go out for a ride next time... can we watch the Abyss gods fight on the top of the cliff while eating sizzling and oily freshly made kebabs?!"
[Silverstream] The hand holding the joystick paused slightly.
This cold and arrogant Tier Two transformation master was caught in a fierce ideological struggle that lasted for five seconds.
Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded seriously:
"... We need to add an exhaust duct. The custom-made leather sofa in my carriage must not be stained with the smell of cumin!!"