I have a set of monster experience cards

In the Lost City, in the Boundary Peak area, in a pure white honeycomb built against the mountain.

The war goes on and life goes on.

Thanks to the repeated breakthroughs and brave fighting on the front line, the stability of the Hive's rear area was guaranteed.

Through the transparent glass wall, you can see the beehive members busy coming and going on the pure white plank road.

"Hey, move aside! Move aside!" Someone hurried past pushing a cart full of food boxes.

"Huh~ I'm finally off work, what do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. I'm fine with anything." Two office workers at a civilian communications equipment company repeated the same conversation over and over again.

"Snapped!"

“Wuwu…Ahhhh!”

The fat little kid who was dumped by his own mother was standing on the street corner crying.

His mother didn't care about the inquiring glances from passers-by, and she grabbed the fat on her child's face and said in pain:
"You are usually so unruly, you just eat and eat! Now look at it, you didn't even get 90 points in the math test... and you're still eating, you'll die of overeating!
Tell me, what should I do now?
Your father and I are too old to have any chance, so all our hopes are on you. With such a low score, do you think you can still get into graduate school in the future? "

There aren’t many people in the beehive, but there are even fewer jobs.

Not to mention that after ancient technologies were gradually acquired from the Heaven-Guiding Pillar, the proportion of unmanned and automated operations in the hive has increased month by month.

There are not many opportunities left for people to go to work.

Passersby who heard the child's mother scolding could not help but shake their heads in sympathy.

I don’t know if it was because I could empathize with the child’s experience, or because of the mother’s words “get into graduate school”.

A pair of eyes standing high up can take in the mundane scenes of the common people.

The director of the research institute took a deep breath, turned to the deputy director beside him and said with a smile:

"You see, the more intense the war becomes, the more popular our hospital becomes."

The vice president also gave him an "I understand" look and lowered his voice and said, "So, it's better for this war to last a little longer."

There is only one place in the Beehive that deserves the name of "Institute", that is the Beehive Government-run Institute.

From magic energy to biology, from basic physics to astronomical space, the Institute undertakes most of the scientific research and development work of the Hive.

During the war, the research and development and manufacturing of airships, biological agents that stimulate human potential, therapeutic drugs... all kinds of resources must be sent to the front line through the institute.

Some of them are outsourced to subordinate companies and research institutes for research and development, while some are manufactured by the research institute itself.

Various biological agents developed based on dragon genes shine brightly on the battlefield.

On the one hand, such potions stimulated people's magical potential and improved the soldiers' combat effectiveness.

On the other hand, if you get into trouble on the battlefield, injecting the corresponding medicine can greatly stimulate the nerves, muscles, and brain... and it is more likely to escape danger.

There have been more than one cases of people escaping from situations where they thought they were doomed to fail, or even counterattacking.

In summary, the position of researcher at the institute is becoming more and more valuable in the eyes of Hive Mass.

The dean was naturally very satisfied with this phenomenon.

You know, there are four marshals in the military, but only two directors of the research institute, which is half of the former.

In addition, there is a special review committee to monitor and restrain the behavior of the institute.

One of the current deans, Colage, and his followers are very dissatisfied with this.

As people involved in the game, they naturally didn't think that "with a sharp weapon in hand, they would naturally have the desire to kill."

Is there anything more lethal than "knowledge" itself?
Possessing the richest and most profound knowledge in the entire hive, once the institute takes a step beyond the single-plank bridge and transcends the wall of rationality, it may drag the entire organization into the abyss.

Today, they have the thought of “taking a wrong step”.

War, if the war lasts longer, can they take the opportunity to seize more power?

...or even become the only one in the market and thus obtain the resource supply of the entire hive?

You know, doing research requires a huge amount of investment.

The dean briefly exchanged a few words with his subordinates, then turned to look at the newcomer.

The leather boots stomped powerfully on the ground, accompanied by the thud of the scepter hitting the ground.

With a "click", his feet naturally came together and straightened, and an old man with a straight posture and serious face walked into the reception room accompanied by several bodyguards.

"Marshal Vanessa." The dean immediately extended his hand and shook hands with the old man warmly. "Thank you very much for taking the time to come during this critical time of war."

Marshal Vanessa, one of the four marshals besides Marshal Louise, said expressionlessly:

"Since you know the battle is going on at the front, just tell me what you want to say." The dean smiled and said, "You are still as resolute as ever. Then I won't waste any more words, Marshal. I want to talk about changing the war strategy."

The two sat down on the sofa.

Marshal Vanessa rejected the suggestion of serving tea and said coldly: "Change the policy? Dean Colechi, do you know what the situation is on the battlefield now?"

The dean spoke confidently:
"Of course. Half an hour ago, the two worlds collided and a blood-red sun rose in the other world. Our enemy revealed a trump card, intending to win without a fight through mental pollution.

Even if you don't win in one go, you can still disrupt the order of the two worlds and create opportunities for yourself.

Unfortunately, their plan was thwarted fifteen minutes ago."

When he said this, he looked reminiscent.

Even if he has not reached the front line, he can piece together a vivid scene through battle reports from various sources.

The society is shrouded in crimson and in turmoil.

When civilization collapsed, it seemed as if the White King had planned it long ago: a pale monster wrapped in ice, snow and storms, transformed into the god of death and cut off the blood sun.

He swallowed uncontrollably, and the ambition in his heart was briefly replaced by another kind of shock and desire.

What kind of prophetic mind or ability does the White King possess that allows him to calculate the enemy's plan from beginning to end?

That pale monster, that sun, that crimson figure…what are they?
They have the power to influence the world. Can he use it to his advantage?
Can he be as powerful as them?
The thought flashed through his mind, and he said calmly:
"Now, the spiritual sustenance and source of strength of one of our enemies, the crimson monster, has been destroyed, and the enemy has once again fallen into a disadvantage.

The bugs are negotiating with us, hoping to resolve the subsequent issues in a peaceful manner."

Marshal Vanessa nodded: "I understand it very clearly."

"But I also heard that the person in charge of the negotiations now is the 'White King'." The dean continued in a slightly anxious tone.

He tried his best to show his concern for the Hive: "This is not a good phenomenon. Our three forces should send troops and complete the peace talks together. If we let it go, the battlefield will become a one-man show for the White King!"

"Oh? I didn't realize you care so much about the hive." Marshal Vanessa raised her eyebrows and looked at him for a few seconds.

...This statement is just short of saying "You have always been a profit-seeking villain."

The dean's eyes twitched, but he suppressed his displeasure and continued to persuade:
"Marshal Vanessa, you...you have the most experience in the entire Hive. Everyone respects you. We are willing to support you in changing your disadvantaged situation!"

"'We'?" The marshal's voice remained steady. "Which 'we'? Colage, can you represent the entire institute?"

The dean said earnestly, "I can! The institute is willing to provide a batch of newly developed unmanned magic puppets to protect the world."

Use it, accept it.

Use our puppets, fuel your will to fight, and keep the war going.

It doesn't need to be as fierce and cruel as before. As long as the war remains at a low intensity, it will be fine...

"Ha ha……"

The marshal's laughter interrupted the dean's thoughts.

He looked at Vanessa in astonishment as she laughed out loud, her stern face rippled and wrinkled with age spots.

If you want to climb up from the bottom of the hive system step by step, strength, qualifications and luck are indispensable.

Those who can stand at the top have all had their muscles and bones tempered by time, leaving only a bag of old bones and a shriveled skin.

This marshal has always been known for his seriousness, so why did he suddenly laugh?
"Hehe, hahahaha..."

Vanessa's smile grew wider and wider, with both corners of her mouth raised exaggeratedly, creating a bunch of wrinkles.

It's just like... a puppet performing on a stage, being controlled by someone.

The dean was shocked to see the skin at the corner of the marshal's mouth torn, and his dry mouth seemed to have turned into a dark abyss, with loud laughter coming out of the hole.

The laughter twisted into a sharp scream with three echoes, like someone chanting an evil curse.

Suddenly, a black shadow shot out from the marshal's mouth!
The vice president next to him let out a long scream.

Right in front of him, Dean Colledge fell backward with a look of shock on his face, his entire skull shattered from the forehead down.

The gray film of death quickly covered his eyeballs, vaguely reflecting the movement of Vanessa standing up.

The marshal turned his head sharply and looked at the screaming vice-president.

The old man's eyeballs gradually changed...becoming compound eyes similar to those of insects.

"Hiss...squeak..." A rustling sound passed through the skull and came out of the mouth.

"She" whispered: "We... don't want the war to stop either." (End of this chapter)