The solar system is broken

King Shang was buried in a deserted place with only a few people.

Ziwei also humiliated the body of King Shang with ulterior motives, and the writer looked livid throughout.

Before Wang's funeral was over, the writer withdrew.

Lian said, Zhuzi is not enough to make plans!

Looking at the earthen pot, the writer sneered in his heart. Ziwei claimed to be the king, which is unbearable by nature.

"Gu Gu Gu~"

"Master, the air bag is full."

"Oh~" The writer suddenly woke up and tightened the main valve.

That sheepskin bag is not bulging enough, and the skin is stretched tight, and it looks like it will burst.

The writer broke into cold sweat on his forehead, he was careless.

Fortunately, I asked Xiao Li to watch in advance, otherwise something would have happened.

"Master, you seem to be absent-minded~"

"Xiao Li did a great job, you saved my life."

The craftsmanship is crude and the tools are crude, making it easy to finish.

The writer calmed down and just changed the sheepskin bag to fill it with air.

Five skin bags were tied to the pillars of the cloister and sunk in the eaves gutter.

After the writer tied the last sixth skin bag on, he wiped the sweat from the top of his head and thought that it was probably enough.

In the past few days, the writer has roughly calculated the defense situation of this ancestral temple.

Twelve armored warriors and seven servants.

There are also a few disciples of Ziwei, who probably have some strength, but not much.

There are more than 20 horses in the stable, half of which are draft horses, used to carry grain and grass, and the military horses are only the ones that are used for riding.

The writer asked Xiao Li to go to the stable, but the samurai didn't buy it.

Xiao Li felt a little suffocated, so the matter was shelved.

"Mu, you go and get ready. This gentleman is going to the palace in the evening."

"Captain, why is it the night shift again? I haven't been to Luzuo for a long time."

The two warriors waved their hands and headed towards the squad room.

"Take care of what's in your crotch, it's important tonight." The man scolded.

What kind of place is Luzuo? Judging from the warrior's tone, you can tell that it is a treasured place that men love to visit.

That place has the intoxication of money, and the illusion of love... action.

What the writer focuses on is that Ziwei is going out at night.

The opportunity has come.

It's a bit hasty, but after passing this village, there is no such store.

As a person who grew up in modern times, my hope for freedom is far beyond the imagination of these slave owners.

"showtime!"

On this day, the sun was very ordinary, with a wave of light overhead and slowly passing by.

The big oak tree continued to wither, and only the mistletoe was still green and scary.

The writer sits under the oak tree and quietly becomes a thinker.

The guarding warrior didn't bother him, and just looked at the young man, meditating on the big oak tree.

Fragments of time moved across the young man's body, his eyes staring at the sun.

The corner of his mouth murmured, "Faster, faster~"

Those words are like a magic spell, pushing the sun to slowly move forward with time.

The writer thought of Romain Rolland's words: The fatal enemy of the soul is the corrosion of time.

My heart is sinking.

Resisting, he listened to the heart that had been suppressed by his own reason, the scrawled first half of his life, and his naive youth.

Time is a great definition, it abstracts the objective reality beyond perception.

What is special about it is that it is omnipresent and cannot be eliminated. It exists with the movement of matter and transcends the consciousness of life.

The sun went down.

The dark shadows rushed over from a distant place bit by bit, just like the largest cavalry regiment on the grassland, with a surge that destroyed everything, leveling the entire ancestral temple.

The steps under my butt are still warm, which proves the flow of time.

The bells are ringing.

The horse's hooves tapped gently on the stone slab, the blades of the armor rubbed, and ribbons flew...

Time watched them quietly, waiting for them to decay, be sealed in the soil, be dug out by the Luoyang shovel, and finally oxidize in the glass and turn into ashes.

A sad song that gently sings about the eternity of movement and makes people cry.

When the writer looked up at the sky, it was already dotted with stars.

It's getting late.

He stood up, flicked the dust off his body, and walked towards the corridor.

Xiao Li was sitting around the firepit, preparing dinner.

Fresh venison is tumbling in the cauldron, and green vegetables are floating in the white.

The water vapor was so thick that I couldn't see the little face clearly.

Life is so simple, without exciting plots.

The bronze eater spent an afternoon of hard work, and the high-end ingredients underwent simple cooking.

"Eating dagger~Eating dagger~How can we eat without wine~" The writer tapped the table gently.

Xiao Li rolled his eyes.

Of course there is wine, but writers have never drank it, especially in this era.

The level of distillation in this era was not good enough, there was too much filter residue, the wine was too turbid, and the sorghum wine still had a faint sour taste.

Bronze Liquor will produce a patina under the action of carbon dioxide, oxygen and water. This medicinal wine rich in heavy metal ions would kill a writer even if he drank it.

Venison is a good thing. Among wild meats, roe deer is edible, and it doesn’t smell bad when raw...it can also warm and nourish people, but the only drawback is that it is too little.

When sub-differentiating, I found only half of the leg meat.

In fact, I can’t blame others. The gifts of nature are limited, and we cannot pour unlimited desires into them.

Xiao Li originally wanted to roast the deer, but the writer thought it would be easier to digest and absorb if stewed.

This was very painful for Xiao Li. He peeled off the copper piece by piece and spent the whole afternoon in a daze.

"Huhu~"

A wooden tray carries a bronze tripod to the table.

The writer took a copper peel and a spoon and went to the cauldron to turn the meat over and eat it.

"Huhu~" blowing away the dense water vapor.

"Uh-huh~" Hot mouth.

"You eat too?"

Xiao Li knelt down and sat opposite the writer, tilting her head and smiling, watching the writer's face disappear in the steam.

She remembered the past.

"Master, you eat."

"Let's eat together," the writer scooped out a few times, figured out a little bit about it, and had more meat in his mouth.

"Huh?" The writer turned his head and found that Xiao Li was looking at him blankly.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No," Xiao Li shook his head, picked up a spoon from the table and started grabbing the meat.

"Well".

I should have known better not to call you.

Half a venison leg is actually quite a lot of meat, and when paired with vegetables and cornmeal, it's quite filling.

After a meal, I was already at the top of the willow tree above the moon.

The writer was half-lying on his back, picking his teeth with a bamboo stick, but it was too thick and his mouth was full of blood and turned blue.

What can I say about the matter of teeth plugging? It is not important, but it is very urgent. It will not be happy if it is not done.

"Are you full?"

The writer raised his chin and asked Xiao Li.

Xiao Li touched his belly and nodded, "I'm full."

Then it’s time to start working.

It's very dark at night.

Basically, they don’t light the lamp because they are poor.

The side room where the writer lives is in the same room as the guest room.

The warrior's room is behind the stables on the right side of the temple gate.

So if the writer wants to escape, he must first poison the neighbor's doorman, and then go to the stables.

From the cloister to the stables, you will pass a large oak tree, where there are three armored night guards.

The writer first went to the corridor to take out the acid from the eaves gutter. As soon as he opened the bottle cap, white mist appeared on it. It was concentrated hydrochloric acid.

Zhi~

Directly pouring it on the feet, the iron shackles melted away like ice cubes.

However, when the strong acid touched the skin, it turned blue and made the writer groan in pain.

"Master~"

The writer gritted his teeth and said in a deep voice, "It's okay."

"Where are the things I asked you to prepare?"

"alright!"

He handed over a ball of wet Gebu, wrapped in fine silk.

Hydrogen sulfide gas is soluble in water, and the resulting gas is slightly acidic, which is not a problem. When the gas mask breaks, you can use this wet cloth to protect it.

"Follow me!"

"Follow the master!" Xiao Li nodded.

"Set off!"

The writer put on a gas mask, dragged the air bag, and set out with a handful of copper chips in his arms.

The moonlight was cold in the corridor, and it was raining a little outside, but it didn't block the bright moonlight.

The writer held three airbags and a jet rod in his hand and set off.

Dang Dang Dang! His heartbeat was very fast, but his face was very calm.

The light was still on in the first room of the corridor, and the writer's face turned cold. It was a bad start.

"Xiao Li!"

The writer reminded him softly. When he turned around, Xiao Li nodded and held an air bag in his hand.

After several oral exercises, all this has become very familiar.

The writer quietly went under the window and gently opened the window that opened outward.

The shameful voices of men and women came from inside.

Bang bang bang~

[Male: Shout louder.]

[Female: No...(panting)]

"Master, is he hitting that woman?" Xiao Li stretched out his head and exposed one eye at the corner of the window, but the writer pushed it back with a bamboo pole.

"Leave the kids alone," the writer said with a dark face. It was too social security.

[Male (scolds): Louder!!]

[Female (sounding hoarse): Ahhhh~]

"But that woman screamed so loudly... Do you want to save her..."

"Let's go, let's go~"

The writer took Xiao Li and ran away, fearing that she would learn bad things.

Before leaving, the writer glanced at the window, grunted, and stood up.

This doorman was firing so hard that he had no chance to notice himself.

The writer is not a murderous person. As long as you don't stop me, I will keep you alive.

"That woman..."

The writer punched Xiao Li on the head and said, "Don't be sexual."

"What is lust?"

"The most important thing is to run out now."

The lights in the back rooms were off, and the snoring inside was loud.

Passed very easily.

After passing the corridor, there is the big oak tree at the gate of the temple. The writer took Xiao Li and stayed behind a wall.