Chapter 117 The Mysterious Record (3 More)

Seeing the card slot, and looking next to it, God He Meow actually has an energy slot and... a place that should theoretically be put into the soul.

Mark couldn't hold back a bit.

The first thought in his mind was all kinds of strange novels: "What can you beat my body, but not my heart.", "I want your body enough. Hahaha!"

Then you really want that guy's body and go in with an obedient soul?

Mark's mind was in a mess, because he really recalled the incident in the church books, where some strong people were forced to fall. Of course, this has little to do with the Hall of Valor, but it is obvious that the gods also have the habit of plundering each other's heroic spirits and angels and transforming them into their own subordinates.

Mark took out a large stack of Blood Moon cards and suddenly smiled bitterly.

If it is operated in the way of a psychic circle, it can only summon soul puppets who have no brains, only obey basic orders and follow their own fighting instincts.

What happens if the card is inserted?

Mark pondered, if the spirit body in the card was used as the basis to inject the souls of the knights loyal to him, what power would the knights use? If you still use the power of the card, it will be a bit painful.

Except for the Temple of Reincarnation, most of the Blood Moon cards in Mark's hand belonged to the evil sect. The power of the Temple of Reincarnation is biased towards dealing with spiritual bodies, and he doesn't really want to use it.

The more useful ones are a dancing devotee named [Bonnie Dolan] and a card named [Vince Ludian] a knight of the Light Apology. They were both before the performance of the Blood Moon Baptism stage. Volunteer to be the former evil spirit of the card in his hand.

It is a pity that only the strength of A-level is the level of Sequence 7 at most.

It's a bit tasteless to let them out now. Mark is far from the time of the violent soldiers, and getting the heroic spirits out in advance is of no use except for the consumption of spiritual power.

As a short-term summon, it is enough for him to have the puppet of the Mechanicum.

After thinking about it again and again, Mark decided to shelve the plan to cultivate Heroic Spirits for the time being.

Quite simply, he lacked a channel to purify his spiritual body, and as soon as he heard this thing, the Hall of Valor knew that it would probably require a huge amount of spiritual power to maintain it. After opening, whether it can stop is still unknown. Just relying on him to purify the remaining spiritual essence of the demon general is probably not enough.

Originally, the spiritual power, he used that mysterious newspaper, and he could probably make do with it.

It is a pity that after practice, [Newspaper] can absorb the spiritual power of the surrounding earth, but its scope is limited, and it cannot conflict with the existing spiritual power absorbing system.

It should be noted that the churches of various churches are built on the spiritual veins. If the opening of the [Newspaper] interferes with the other party's absorption of the spiritual power of the earth, it means a more serious invasion.

Therefore, at this stage, this Hall of Valor that belongs to him alone cannot be opened casually.

It was a pity to leave the sarcophagus, and Mark suddenly made a "huh", and a voice of the soul told him that there was a secret room behind the sarcophagus.

It's a bit embarrassing to say, the door of the secret room is a huge mural, and the guy on the mural is himself.

Mark Qiyu in the painting is arrogant, with eyes of gods looking into the distance. He holds a treasure book with the emblem of the god of knowledge in his left hand, and he holds a gun in the right to point in the same direction of sight.

Under his feet trampled the corpse of the tragic demon general.

And Minnie, Helena, Conrad and others surrounded him.

This painting came out of nowhere, and it is full of the common Acura atmosphere of the Church of God.

Mark was a little nervous just looking at this 'self-portrait'.

But after a thought, the mural disappeared along with the seemingly solid wall, revealing a spacious secret room. The entire secret room was empty, except for a thick tome on the first desk to the left of the door.

This is a record of being ingested into Mark's soul at the same time as the [Lair] was blown up.

Mark opened the large book covered with unknown leather, and opened the pages made of parchment-like material. Lines of text he had never seen before appeared from the slightly yellowed pages.

words, he could not understand.

This does not prevent the font from communicating through the soul, directly crossing the language barrier, and turning it into the language of the soul that he understands.

[July 8, 999, the Kingdom of Balaam. I, XXX, have been ordered by the Supreme God of XXX to establish an outpost in this space crack that is extremely close to reality. 】

The name that appears here seems to be some kind of lost taboo, and Mark tries to touch that name, but his finger snaps back. He can only guess that these names have been blocked, spurned by the next batch of gods, and even the names have been banned by some mysterious law, which is not allowed to appear in this world.

Mark continued to read.

[August 9. The outpost was established fairly well, and despite being harassed by the 'greedy' guys, we managed to hold it. 】

[September 3. Too bad the entire Seventh Legion is missing. They weren't simply wiped out, what the hell was going on? 】

[October 11. Hell, how could this spiritual storm be so big? Is there a crack in the kingdom of my lord? My lord is XXXX of XXXX! 】

What follows are more than 20 battle records, just the date and who they fought against, all blacked out by a mysterious force. I could only barely see the words [Battle] [Storm].

[November 20, farewell, my lord! I am your most loyal XXX]

There is no record here.

Mark looked down and saw nothing but blank space.

He touched his chin: "Obviously, since the old times, there has been a once-in-a-thousand-year cleanup, and the gods know this, otherwise they would not have sent forwards to outpost in advance. It can be judged from the [Greed] Church that still survives, Maybe the Demon God has some way of avoiding the purge?"

"Then this supposedly powerful god miscalculated, and his kingdom began to collapse."

"There is too little information."

"However, judging from the fact that this arsenal of war of gods has not been completely destroyed, it has become a [laid] of a powerful demon, as a forward base for eroding the real world. The destructive power of that storm seems to be limited?"

"Or maybe all the angels are dead, leaving the factory? Then why do you need the factory?"

"It's totally pointless to do that."

"If I get this factory, but I've lost the land, what am I going to do?"

Mark shook his head to drive these bad thoughts out of his head, closed the big book, and turned around and walked out of the Hall of Valor.

"Huh?" Mark noticed that there was actually a lake of souls behind the Hall of Valor.

Walking over, Mark saw a small wooden pier. The 'ghost boat' used for sailing in the spirit world last time was still moored on the pier.

Mark seemed to have fallen into memory, and subconsciously walked onto the boat, entered his cabin, and saw the remnant of the Valkyrie still lying on his bed.

He was surprised to notice that the thread in the gap in the Valkyrie's left shoulder had thickened.

"This is……"

Mark understood, and as soon as his mind moved, he returned to reality.

Looking at the steel ceiling above his head, Mark felt a little disappointed.

He somewhat understands that in this world where the gods are about to hit the streets, it doesn't make much sense to pursue the so-called godhead. There is a high probability that the real plane will become the main battlefield. It is the last word to improve one's strength and stand on the main battlefield.

There was no time for him to stop.

Mark walked out of the door and came to the bottom floor of the ship, which is Helena's workshop.

Despite all the sound insulation measures, the shrill sound of the lathe was still heard when going down the stairs to the bottom floor.

There was a [Do Not Disturb] sign hanging on the door, but Mark pushed the door gently and went in.

As soon as you enter the door, you can see a slender figure operating a huge milling machine, machining a shield with a milling cutter.

Compared with the traditional slow chisel and axe, milling cutters are more efficient and bring greater risks.

After all, when the shield embryo was forged, it used the sun sand, which is the easiest to exert the power of light. Although this extremely fine gravel can strengthen the light power of the shield, it will become very difficult to process as a price. You can't go wrong with any of the texts, one miss will destroy the frontal shield.

To process tons of metal mixed with [Sun Sand], it is necessary to turn on the Light Array during processing, which makes the temperature near the lathe reach an exaggerated 60 degrees Celsius.

Even wearing protective clothing, it was still as hot as a steamer.

Mark just quietly watched Helena work until the shield was processed in one go, and the high-speed rotating milling cutter was slowly stopped, and the heated light circle was turned off.

When Helena stopped and took off the tight protective suit, she was stunned when she saw Mark behind her.

"Ah! Young Master... Mark, I... Uh, when did you come?" Helena lowered her head and had nowhere to put her hands. She seemed to feel that after using tools all the time, her calloused hands were not good-looking. She shrunk her hands to her back.

As a result, as soon as she retreated, Mark grabbed her left hand.

"Yo, is this the girl who rushed over desperately that day? Why does it seem like a different person. Don't run away, I think we need to have a good talk."

"That time, I offended, uh, I'm sorry..." Helena was incoherent, trying to retreat but couldn't, her eyes had nowhere to put her focus.

Mark grabbed her arms with both hands, making her want to be an ostrich.

According to common sense, Mark felt that Helena would not run away and should be able to calm down and talk to him.

Unexpectedly, Helena seemed to be stimulated by something, or she mustered up the courage to go out.

Her body sank suddenly, and she did a very standard wrestling routine. She wrapped her arms around Mark's waist, rushed forward, and pressed Mark on the sofa beside the lathe on the spot where she rested.

Looking down at Mark condescendingly, with the tears falling like pearl threads, her rosy lips popped out the words like a machine gun:

"What to talk about? What do you want me to talk about? I'm just an idiot bastard raised by a mechanic. I don't know much about literature, music, dancing, or that talent. I don't know anything but fights and tinkering with machines. Yes. I have calluses on my hands, and I am covered in oil all day long. Do you dislike me, Mark?"

Mark was stunned for a moment: "Dislike? No! I have never disliked you."

Now, it's Helena's turn to fix it. She saw that there was no falsehood in Mark's clear eyes, and suddenly burst into a smile: "You really don't dislike it?"

"Of course not!" Mark said decisively, and he regretted it.

Because Helena's next sentence was: "Prove it to me!"