'Vincent, what shall we do? It seems that the north tunnel is not so simple. ' Hardy looked at

the Mage, who had been staring out of the window, and finally, unable to resist his loneliness,

began to speak.

"That's all right," Hardy said. "We'll see tomorrow."

'But Vincent, shouldn't we go to the hospital first to see the wounded and sick guards? At

least we can learn something from them so that we can prepare for it.' 'asked Mark, puzzled.

"There is no need to see those patients, I don't think there are any patients there. Johnny was

dishonest." Vincent says in a flat voice.

'So they're lying to us? Shall we go to the tunnel on the north side? It must be full of danger.

' Mark looked at the other two men worried.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, there's still me!" Hardy patted his chest, threw back his head,

closed his eyes slightly and pointed to himself with a thumbs-up. "Who am I? I am Hardy.

Whatever lies ahead, I can fix it for you!"

'I prefer to follow Vincent.' Mark stood next to Vincent.

"You …………" Hardy pointed at the dwarf and was silent for a long time.

But no matter how worried they were, now that they had agreed to see the north tunnel, they

had to go. Vincent was not sure whether the Grey dwarves would ever again ask for their help

at such a high price if he showed that he did not dare to accept the commission.

When they came out of the Red Mushroom early the next morning, Johnny was waiting for

them at the door. He quickly walked up to the Master and said, "Master, would you like me

to show you the sick, the guards who came back from the North passage? One of them just

woke up this morning."

Vincent looked into the Gray Dwarf's eyes, but there was no emotional flaw -- large, clear

eyes with an expectant look. But the more innocent they were, the more flawed they were.

It's not like the spleenmages of the Grey Dwarves don't know that their lives are full of cunning,

and how Johnny, as a "archon", could have risen to that high position without intrigue and

pretense.

"Don't bother, we'll go straight to the tunnel on the north side." Vincent turned his head and

headed north. Mark followed closely, not leaving a step behind. Hardy took the great sword

he had asked for the day before from Johnny and ran after him.

Watching the three men walk away, Johnny straightened from his slouching posture, squinted

at the northbound trio, and strode south.

To the north of Bribando is a large cluster of mines, where traces of former miners' work can

easily be found. A frame of wood or stone supports the walls and roof of the tunnels; The

walls were to be seen at intervals with supports for torches -- the grey dwarves themselves

needed no light to work in the darkness, but it seemed that they used a great number of

slaves, some of whom might even have been captured from the surface world, and who alone

needed light; Further on, a few people could see the rusted carts, lying in a dark corner, with

a few other things thrown aside.

There is always a faint smell of decay in the cave. Hardy walked slowly ahead with his

handlebar, and the soft white light cast ghastly shadows on the jagged rock walls and jagged

frames. Mark clutched the crossbow tightly in both hands, his eyes wide open as he strode

nervously forward.

Since the last time he was attacked by a lizard, Vincent has not been careless. He always keeps

an eye on the movement of the left and the right, and does not miss any corner that can be

used for ambush.

The tunnel in the darkness seemed to go on forever, winding and winding its way forward. It

is like a dark mouth full of courage and patience for the adventurer. Vincent looked at the

map given by Johnny in his hand and marked every fork in the road. He was well aware that

getting lost in Underdark was no laughing matter, especially in a terrain like this mine where

one wrong path could be impossible to get around again.

It took them almost a day before they reached the place they had been given on the map.

It looked like an ordinary cave, with the entrance reinforced with stones, just like the countless

holes they had come across throughout the day. The only difference was that beside the

entrance stood a conspicuous sign with the words "Danger, do not enter!" in Dwarves,

subterranean languages, and dark Elvish.

Hardy, seeing Vincent nod his head, went in first, sword in one hand and torch in the other.

Mark walked behind the warrior. Because of his penetrating eyes, Vincent can take care of all

directions left and right, and his perspective ability makes him not blocked by the front two

people. Hence the strange scene of the master's disappearance.

The smell of corruption in the cave became more and more obvious, but no one covered

their nose, but clutched their hands tightly to their weapons, and no one dared to relax

The silver mine began to sink slowly into the ground. There was a rush of moisture, and

puddles of dirty water began to fill the ground. The three men walked slowly past, staring into

the endless darkness ahead. Mark ran to the sides of the road and lit the torches on the wall

for slaves one by one.

Behind Vincent and them, a pair of eyes suddenly appeared in an ordinary small pool of water.

They stared at the three men far away, and then began to fade slowly until the image

disappeared, leaving only a circle of ripples on the pool.

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Vincent frowned, but he did not turn around to investigate the vision. He continued to follow

the two men in front of him, pretending that he had seen nothing.

It was not long before they came to a dig in the vein. There were still many miners' tools

scattered on the ground, and black stones scattered from the overturned carts. Mark picked

up one of the stones and looked at it. "These are just ordinary stones. There isn't any silver in

them. How did they get in the cart? They're of no digging value."

'They used to be silver ore, and now they're like this.' Hardy stuck the firesticks in a torch rack

on the wall. "Let's just wait here today and see what's going to make this place a mess! Tell

me, Vincent, what kind of magic does it take to suck silver straight out of the ore?"

Vincent shook his head, "This kind of magic is not unknown, but..." He shook the two scrolls

hidden in his chest. "There should be no one in the world who knows this kind of magic!"

'Why? "Hardy and Mark asked puzzled.

Vincent shook his head and did not answer the question. But he knew very well that by

learning the Principles of Creation, he could achieve the magic effect himself. But the two

mystical scrolls he held in his arms were unique in the world. Moreover, the first volume, the

Esoteric Law, is the basis of all the other scrolls, and it should be impossible to use the magic

of the other scrolls without learning the relevant knowledge on this scroll. Among the existing

spells of the Blasares Continental Mages Association, there are no spells associated with this

effect. So who was it that developed these ancient magical powers?

For a moment there was silence in the mine, and an atmosphere of uneasiness and tension

began to spread. Mark reached into his rucksack for the food he had made before departure

-- a soft cake baked with minced meat and flour -- and shared it with the other two.

At night, inside the cave, the temperature doesn't change much. Few would have been able

to tell exactly when night had fallen in the Underdark caverns, had sleepiness not slowly begun

to infect everyone's nerves. Hardy leaned against the pillars supporting the mine and snored

quietly. Nothing could make him nervous. He could fall asleep whenever and wherever he

wanted. Mark kept his eyes wide open as he looked around him. But in reality, he just made

the motion of "looking", and because of his nervousness, he couldn't actually see or

remember anything.

Vincent crouched in the corner, letting the dark shadow completely cover his figure, covering

his wide mage robe to keep himself warm in the dark night. He looked at the dwarf nervously

"scanning" around and shook his head.

"Tell me, Mark, why did you venture out?" Vincent whispered these words out of the shadows.

Mark was shocked at first. He was shaking. It was only when he realized that it was just the

sorcerer asking, that he recovered. "Me? I'm just trying to learn something on my adventure."

'To learn what? Better to create something interesting?"

Mark nodded, "Yeah, when I was a kid, I really wanted to make something amazing, but I

always had trouble concentrating when I was making it. I was always thinking about things,

and I couldn't make up my mind about certain places. When my other friends had finished

their work, I was still drawing drawings. Vincent, am I stupid?"

"There was once a master who was always looking over his shoulder when copying a scroll.

He had to think twice about every stroke. While his companions were able to fly through the

sky, he would sit on the ground and look at old grimoires. While his friends had left the

Magicians' Guild to become powerful men on the mainland, he stood in the Magicians' tower

and studied the stars. Years later, one by one, his friends died in battles with the powerful

beings of the world, and he has become a famous mage on the mainland."

"Who is this man?" 'asked Mark curiously.

"My mentor, Castle. He has discovered the inner laws of magical writing, insight into the

secrets of how things develop and relate to each other. He became a great seer."

'Did he never leave the Tower all his life? Didn't he need to practice?"

'Mark, you've got it wrong. His body didn't leave the Mages' Society, but he did. In fact, you

can make things either fast or slow. As long as you do it the right way and keep moving

forward, can't you succeed? Ok, you are too nervous. Close your eyes and have a rest. We

don't need a soldier who can't keep his eyes open at a critical moment. Go to sleep."

Mark said well. He lay down on his bed, which was padded with blankets. He closed his eyes

and went to sleep.

After a while, Vincent's eyes slowly closed, and they no longer moved in the shadow. A book

he was holding in his hand slowly fell to the ground and lay at his feet.

A blood-red shadow slowly seeped out of a crack in the wall of the mine, like a stream of red

steam, slowly condensing into a man's shape. But the creature's feet were still clouds, slowly

suspended in the air, its "hands" appeared as long, sharp claws, and its face was only a red

mist blur, except for two black spots where the eyes were.

The blood-red shadow moved slowly toward the sleeping monk, reaching out its long arms

and grabbing at him, its sharp claws glinting cold in the light of the unquenchable flame.

"There you are..." A soft voice came out of the shadows...