In Russia, on the edge of the Caucasus Mountains, a loud crashing sound came from the distance.

But I couldn't hear clearly.

In the distance, there seemed to be an earth-shattering wave surging, but it was hard to see clearly.

The whole world seemed to be submerged in a suffocating paleness, and all that could be seen was endless flying snow, with thick snowflakes falling from the sky.

It's been going on for a week...

The biting cold air penetrated into the body along the lungs, making the soul seem to be sluggish. The thick coat was stained by the snow and quickly froze, just like wearing a thick layer of armor, making it difficult to move.

.

When the whole world turned pale, the countless figures on the earth also became small, like black spots struggling hard, along the railway covered with layers of snow, struggling

forward.

The high-pitched loudspeakers kept urging.

But it couldn't travel very far before it was swallowed up by the flying snow all over the sky.

All that can be heard is the tired breathing of the people next to you, the dull sound of the shovel digging into the snow, and the high-pitched sound of the pickaxe colliding with the solid ice...

"Faster, faster!"

The staggering old man dragged a lame leg, holding a trumpet in his hand, and shouted to the people in front: "The snowstorm has been going on for sixteen hours! This batch of supplies must be sent!"

But in this chaos filled with busyness and noise, a staggering figure pounced forward.

The middle-aged man's face was pale, his beard was covered with white frost, and his already numb face was twitching constantly.

"We can't dig anymore, Varya! We can't dig anymore!" He shouted hoarsely: "We are running out of time! We must retreat! We must immediately..."

"Did you fucking see a ghost?" The old man was furious and sprayed saliva on his face: "Do you know how heavy our mission is?"

"There's an avalanche!"

The man who has been a hunter on the edge of these mountains for sixteen years almost cried: "That sound just now was an avalanche, absolutely! It will be too late by the time we see it, we must withdraw, otherwise..."

"Otherwise, just keep fucking going!"

In the ice and snow, the old man's eyes turned red, "Vanya, if you are cold, I have wine here. If you are hungry, there is toast in the dining car behind. If you are sleepy, go to bed."

, I can give you two more fucking hours of sleep.

But you can’t tell me we have to stop!”

The old man pulled his collar and roared louder than his, like a lion roaring: "Mitrofan has been without power for four hours. There are hundreds of pregnant women and dozens of critically ill patients in the hospital there.

The patients...their generators can still last for eight hours. After eight hours, if no one saves them, they will be dead!

Even if there is an avalanche, we may not die, but if we run away, they will be all doomed, you know! All doomed!"

Ivan froze in place, looked at him for a long time, panted, and said no more.

Looking at those eyes, he was speechless. For a long time, he staggered back, sat down on the ground, and choked with exhaustion: "I also have a daughter... She is only four years old, four years old, Walia

...If I can't go back, what will she do..."

The sound of shoveling snow and knocking ice continued. Everyone was silent, suppressing the urge to roar. Their faces turned red with anger under the frosty wind.

It's like tearing this world apart.

But amid his mournful cries, there was a warm scent of incense.

"Poor kid, he was just scared."

The skinny priest in black stood in front of him, lowered his head, and looked at him. In the priest's hands, the incense ball burned silently, spreading wisps of warmth in the cold world.

"Don't be afraid."

The priest's expression twitched, as if he was trying hard to express a kind expression, but against that face that was too thin, it became more and more weird.

"You will go back."

His fingers were dipped in some holy oil, and he gently applied it on Ivan's forehead, assuring him: "I just came back from there, Ivan, there was no avalanche, you just heard wrong."

"Did you hear that wrong?" Ivan was stunned.

"Yes, the engineering team in front is blasting away some collapsed rocks."

The priest told him hoarsely: "You will see your child, Ivan. Your child will lie in front of the window next to the fireplace, waiting for you to come back. When the time comes, you will tell her everything you have done, like a hero.

Same."

He thought for a moment and said firmly: "Everyone will go back, I promise you."

Ivan was stunned for a long time, but couldn't help but shed tears in front of that face that couldn't be called kind.

"Please keep working, everyone."

The priest who came from nowhere bowed his head and said his final goodbye: "The Holy Spirit will definitely protect you."

Just like that, holding the incense ball in his hand, the skinny priest recited scriptures in a low voice, blessed everyone calmly, and walked into the snowstorm again.

Far away, far away, further away.

The sacred flag loomed in the wind and snow, and low chanting spread,

More priests trudged across this wasteland, like pilgrims, forming a long queue separated by long distances.

Above the mountains, the surging and rolling whiteness solidified in the air, and the roar ceased.

Those lonely figures were like nails wedged into the earth, holding the collapsing avalanche in place, unable to move any further.

After a long time, everything returned to silence.

The priest turned back, took one last look at the little glow of light that was struggling to move forward after the snow fell all over the sky, and bowed his head to give his final blessing.

In front of him, the waiting priest reminded: "Ise, let's go."

"kindness."

Isai turned around and said, "I'll come right away."

Just like that, they turned around, moved forward again, and disappeared at the end of the wind and snow.

The storm continues.

The mission also continues.

In Egypt, above the dry Nile River, the smell of silt and putrefaction floats.

Outside the oasis, thousands of miles of wild sand are flying.

The violent sunlight shrouded the sky and sprinkled down, making everything suffer from thirst. Countless free water vapor was swept away by the dry wind and flew into the distance.

It's been two weeks in a row and I can't wait for any rain.

Outside the city, in the sky full of wind and sand, countless pyramids were silent in the shadows. In the deepest darkness, amidst the erosion of endless disasters, the Pharaoh slowly opened his mouth and made a subtle sound.

Like a long sigh.

It's like a tiny moan coming from the gaps between countless nightmares.

The hand holding the scepter was as thin as wood, but it never let go.

It's like holding the reins of the country.

So hard.

Blood as thick as asphalt left his hand, flowed downward along the scepter, and flowed into the path of the secret ritual.

As a result, the layer of rainbow light that enveloped the entire area emerged again.

Just like the weak fetal membrane that protects the baby, it covers the entire country and borders, and drops wisps of sweet rain.

Once again, smooth the wind and sand thousands of miles away.

And thousands of miles away, Tianzhu.

Countless dark tides, like the Iron Curtain, rise and fall one after another, driven by uncontrolled ocean currents, roaring towards the land that is silent in the long night.

However, at the edge of the earth, something was rising slowly.

The hazy outline is projected in the night, but the sense of existence is so strong, as if only that mark is the core of the entire world, the meaning of all life and existence, and... the destination of the destruction of all things!

Countless pitch-black tsunamis roared and collided with each other, erupting into earth-shattering roars. However, all the loud noises were subdued and suppressed by the low drum beats, gradually breaking into pieces and becoming inaudible.

It was someone stepping on the ground, taking light and vigorous dance steps.

Above the sky, the black clouds shattered, and a ray of pure moonlight fell, illuminating the half-dressed middle-aged man, whose face was painted with oil paint, solemn and ancient.

Those curly long hair fell from her shoulders, swaying like darkness itself.

At this moment, the wind was howling, and the flute was playing. In the furious sea, there was a thin sound of water waves spreading, like the pious praise of the souls.

He is dancing.

Swirling and stepping on the empty beach is like imitating the great god of the past and reappearing the power of the god.

No, that is the great god himself.

The reflection of what was once sacred remains in the world.
To be continued...