There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

"Baldy, you're pretty fast! How did you find such a good hiding spot?"

I took off the stone war mask from my head, used my steel halberd as a support to quicken my pace, and climbed onto a rock. Only then did I realize that the environment here was truly extraordinary.

Judging from the wild scenery, this place is no different from the surrounding scrub desert, but the rotten wooden planks, tracks and traces of shovel digging on the side clearly indicate that this is a valley where human activity once took place.

"Boss, this is an abandoned mine that was once mined by the Loader's Territory. It used to have a lot of open-pit iron ore with very high purity. Ten years ago, it was the town's material production area. Unfortunately, the resources were gradually depleted, and this place was completely abandoned. In the end, only we blacksmith apprentices knew about this place and would occasionally come to find some inferior ore to practice with."

My joyful expression suddenly froze.

"What? This used to be a mine?"

The bald man nodded: "Yes, there's another mine shaft inside!"

"...You're busy, I'll go now."

Upon hearing this, I turned to leave.

Mine pit? Mine tunnel? Don't you know that I hate anything related to mining the most?

Now, I have no interest in going into ordinary caves, let alone mines, for fear of accidentally encountering some weird or strange things.

"Boss, hurry inside! Don't let the town's privateers catch you; you're in danger!"

The bald man spoke with an anxious expression, then turned and led the way into the mine.

I hesitated for a moment, but finally gritted my teeth and went inside.

Since we're no longer in Mineral Town, there shouldn't be any problems getting into the mines here, right?

"Boss Zoffy, tell me what happened next! I heard a lot of noises, like a fight, and gunshots. I thought something had happened to you!"

After I brainwashed the bald man, he seemed to enter a unique mental state, with an extreme aversion to violence and even a bit of fear.

The world is truly amazing. A boy who was about to go astray was actually transformed by me into a cowardly yet brilliant man like Burnett! This is another groundbreaking move of mine after guiding Gray to become a superhero!

"From now on, call me Boss Seven! Don't call me Zoffy anymore!"

"……OK."

I first gave him a stern warning, then reassured him, "Don't worry, there's no way I'll fight. I'll never fight in my life!"

"...But boss, you still have blood and brain matter on you." The bald man revealed the truth with a stiff expression.

I nonchalantly shook off the dirt off myself and continued to argue, "This is tomato juice and tofu pudding, you're mistaken. Everyone in town is so talented and speaks so nicely, I love it there! Today's visit felt like coming home, I'm going to go see them again tomorrow!"

"What? Boss, are you crazy? You want to go back?"

The bald man, terrified, pulled me into the mine shaft, sticking his head out and looking around suspiciously, as if he feared that privateers might be following him and brandishing their knives at him.

On my way back, I deliberately controlled my pace, leaving almost no footprints in the Gobi and Shawan, making it impossible for them to track me.

Of course, there were indeed privateers sent by the town along the way. They thought they were fast and skilled, and they followed me all the way. But I went all out and turned around to use my counter-tracking techniques, wielding my weapon to cut them in two with a single blow, and even burying my upper body along the sandbar.

One can imagine the expression on his companion's face when he caught up and saw what appeared to be a fellow traveler who had stepped into quicksand, and finally dug through the sand to find a pile of entrails—anyway, since then, no one has dared to openly follow me.

I don't deny that the Loaders' Command holds an unshakeable dominant position in this land. The two waves of troops they sent out alone demonstrated a significantly above-average level of tactics.

These soldiers, though no match for me, were an irresistible force in a village like Shisongzhuang, which was struggling to make ends meet.

However, the power I displayed today far exceeds what their conventional forces can handle. Town guards and cavalry have suffered repeated defeats; if they were to forcibly eliminate me, the cost to them would certainly outweigh the damage I could cause. They are unlikely to be willing to do something so clearly counterproductive.

Even if we take a step back and assume they are determined to kill me, can they guarantee that I won't fight back and eliminate some of their key figures before I die?

We assassins have a creed that goes something like this: What is a stealth assassination? Killing everyone who sees me is the perfect stealth assassination!

Therefore, I believe that after I demonstrated my willingness to negotiate, whether the leader of the loader is considering the interests of the group or wants to understand my background before taking action, he will prepare a proper negotiation tomorrow.

Ultimately, all of this is based on the absolute military strength I have demonstrated.

This is somewhat like a nightmare that has plagued human history: nomadic tribes, who in ancient times would frequently attack cities and territories, leaving millions dead. However, after the advent of machine guns and light artillery, they almost instantly became hospitable, singing and dancing. This is what we call deterrence.

I don't intend for the bald man to know too much about these things. His job is to be responsible for my logistics and communications. Knowing too many details would only make him worry, affect his judgment and execution, and cause him to take unnecessary actions.

For example, I told him to find a place to hide and wait for me to find him. If he knew I was going to fight a hundred or so thugs, he probably would have taken it upon himself to find a professional team and come with my ashes to collect my body.

"Don't worry, not only will I be meeting with them tomorrow, but I've also found a trustworthy ally who will definitely speak up for me. I'm not fighting alone..."

The bald man looked at me with suspicion, then finally sighed and said, "Zo...Seven, what do you want me to do? I've prepared food and drinks. You can eat something first, and this place will be sheltered from the wind and keep you warm at night."

I nodded: "You did a great job. We'll stay here tonight, and you'll come with me to town tomorrow. I promise you'll be fine."

"Wh...what?!"

After saying that, I left the bald man who was disheveled in the wind, patted the head of the camel sleeping at the entrance of the mine, and walked to the campfire to eat smoked salmon with hot water.

I originally only planned to stay around the entrance of the mine and never go inside, but suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some strange lines all over the rock walls of the cave.

"Didn't you say this was a mine? How come there's graffiti on it? Don't you have any manners?"

The bald man spread his hands: "We didn't draw those. These rock paintings have been there since they were discovered in the mine. Our master told us not to destroy them. They must have been left by the indigenous people a long time ago, right?"

Chapter 327 Mysterious Rock Paintings

"What an amazing place!"

I touched the mottled marks on the wall, clicking my tongue in amazement.

Inside this cave, I saw a continuous stretch of murals on the rock walls. These rock paintings were mostly painted in red, with bright and vivid colors. The distinct red color indicates a high iron content, suggesting that they were made from hematite powder found in open-pit mines, mixed with ingredients such as ox blood, resulting in a stable and long-lasting color.

The lines in the drawings vary in thickness; some were drawn with fingers dipped in paint, leaving clear fingerprints at the pauses and turns. Larger figures may have been painted with feathers or other tools, leaving straight, silky lines.

I estimated that the portion of this flat rock surface I could see was 14 meters long from east to west and over 9 meters high, covering an area of ​​about 120 square meters, and located about 10 meters above the ground. It was carved with over two hundred figures and animals of varying sizes and postures. The figures were the most detailed, ranging in size from two meters to just 10 centimeters.

The rock paintings here are ancient and unique in their style. Although the figures do not show facial features, they can express vivid movements, postures and emotions through the position of the limbs.

Besides humans, there are many animals in the painting. However, the animals are only depicted with emphasis on their horns, tails, ears, and other distinctive features. Strangely, these features do not resemble any animal found in the wilderness. Could these artists be painting some kind of fantastical creature?

Indeed, in primitive times, people created fantastical animals. The reasons for this behavior are complex, and these creatures were given all sorts of names, such as gods, demons, ghosts, monsters, spirits, immortals, giants, and elves. This is because, even in the era when humans were fighting each other naked with wooden sticks, we had already begun to record the power we had mastered and to revere all kinds of unknown forces.

Prehistoric sites unearthed around the world, including murals, stone carvings, and pottery, bear traces of various fantastical creations. These clearly unrealistic images are more likely reflecting specific emotions in abstract forms.

Some of these animals have winding, forked antlers and sharp, striped snake tails; some are covered in fine fish scales and wriggling vines; some have hairy tentacles and hoof-like limbs; and some have exaggerated bird wings and spindle-shaped bodies.

...The imagination of these primitive people is truly amazing. If I hadn't only seen sand lizards, tarantulas, wild sheep, camels, cheetahs, and lions in the wilderness, I would have thought they lived in a bizarre hell teeming with monsters.

I was captivated by the rock paintings, slowly venturing deeper into the cave by the dim light of a torch, trying to reconstruct the environment inhabited by these bizarre and fantastical images. I was amazed to discover that these primitive people meticulously recorded their hunting activities through painting, depicting their battles with the beasts of their imaginations.

This is understandable. For example, Viking legends are full of stories about pirates killing wild beasts the size of mountains and drinking lakes dry. In reality, they might have just hunted a wild boar, had a couple of drinks, and started bragging about it.

Can we call it bragging about things done by people from the past?

Although the rock paintings near the outside of the cave are clearly discernible, they inevitably weather, peel, fade, and are damaged due to wind and sun. Only the rock paintings deep inside the cave can still maintain their original integrity.

But as I wandered through the cave, feeling that the details of the giant rock paintings were becoming richer and the content clearer, I saw an unfinished hunting scene.

On the upper part of this rock face is an unfinished hunting rock painting. Only the head and neck of the strange animal have been completed, while the body, abdomen and limbs are only sketched with sparse chiseling marks, clearly indicating that it is a semi-finished product.

The original procedure should have been to continue the work as if it were the animal head and neck, following the sketch, to continue to densely chisel the sparse chisel marks into continuous grooves, and then outline and color them one by one.

I touched the rough rock surface with my fingers, connecting the chisel marks one by one, imagining the shape of the whole picture in my mind, but the pattern I drew did not resemble any animal I had ever seen before.

This is incredibly frustrating. My imagination has actually been defeated by these primitive people who drew on the rock walls? It's as ridiculous and perfectly understandable as a linguistics PhD who is fluent in ten languages ​​still not being able to understand the hieroglyphs of primitive people.

With my limited imagination, the figure I sketched resembled a towering, strange tree, its many branches growing upwards, pointing straight to the sky, yet possessing rounded curves that branches could never have. The animal's body was solidified yet lacked a regular shape, like a huge lump, with a distinct indentation in the middle, presumably for its mouth. The only thing that identified it as an animal was its three hooves, standing like a large cauldron rooted to the ground.

Right next to this enormous, bizarre creature, like the other hunting scenes, there was a humanoid figure with lines reaching two meters high, seemingly twisting its waist and punching to suppress the monster, accompanied by about thirty smaller humanoid figures, holding spears and running and leaping around nearby.

This is also a common painting style used by primitive people, using larger patterns to represent important figures such as leaders, priests, and warriors, and smaller patterns to depict ordinary people.

Unfortunately, this rock painting, whose artistry is significantly more refined than that at the cave entrance, is the last of its kind at this site.

Further inside, after observing for a long time, I only found that the primitive people had hastily smeared some paint on the walls and used rough lines to depict the limbs and heads of the figures. Their painting skills not only did not improve, but even regressed to the level of a soul painter.

Moreover, this area only contained tiny figures; not a single large human figure was seen. These red little figures were twisted and crooked, no longer displaying the vigorous energy they had shown during their previous group hunts, but rather appearing to be scattering and fleeing.

However, directly above the rock face, there was a large, circular area covered in moss and shadows, seemingly a vast, indescribable haze pressing down upon the rock. The rock surface, as if rusted, was entirely brownish-red, with no other distinguishing features except for the numerous spherical protrusions. Combined with the small figure below the circular haze, it seemed to float lifelessly in the sky, yet it exuded an overwhelming aura, like rolling thunder, powerfully portraying a silent spectacle of destruction.

Further inside, there were only empty walls and gray-black rocks; the exquisite paintings abruptly ended there, leaving a huge blank space.

If it is the appropriate blank space in traditional Chinese painting, it can prevent the picture from being blocked or stagnant, as if the spirit of heaven and earth is freely flowing in and out of it, filled with the painter's endless ethereal charm and the sense of vast and boundless cosmic space.

However, the strange patterns and animals on the rock paintings seem to come alive because of the blank spaces, and begin to leap, twist and roar on this cliff, recreating the chaotic scene from countless years ago.

And that last glimpse before destruction.

Chapter 328 History of Our Ancestors

I walked out of the cave with a solemn expression, sat down with my back to the camel and facing the fire, and felt the hot wind blowing on me, which helped me recover a little from the shock I had just experienced.

"Baldy, how long have you guys been here?"

The bald man sat on a rock, watching the sunset sink further into the west, its pale light slowly dissipating along the sharply defined horizon.

Therefore, looking up at the western mountains, a fiery ball, about to burn out, still radiates countless rays of light, while the setting sun is draped in a magnificent tapestry of ever-changing scenes, shimmering brilliantly. The boundless, all-encompassing rays of the setting sun paint the vast, desolate Gobi Desert with a golden hue.

"You'll have to ask my master to know. Boss, have you seen the rock paintings in the cave clearly?"

I nodded and asked, "This is no ordinary rock painting, but I'm more curious about where these ancient people are now? Or... are they still alive?"

The bald man's face showed a hint of lingering fear. "When I first saw this painting, I also felt uncomfortable all over, as if I were watching many unknown people gradually die in front of me. My companion who came in with me also said that for a moment he thought of the endless other side of time, a mysterious people who were gradually disappearing."

"What was this place like before?" I asked.

The bald man remained silent for a long time before saying, "I heard from my master that the environment of this planet was rebuilt after a huge catastrophe. At that time, a planetary meteorological disaster that covered the entire globe caused many civilized areas to regress to their primitive state. The once vibrant areas have become barren lands like this."

He took a twig and drew a large circle on the ground, then cut the circle in half: "The Miam Desert stretches across the heart of this planet, and the Riegomi shrub desert where we are is merely the remaining power of this desert. In the heart of that great desert, I've heard that traces of many civilizations and ancient ruins left behind still exist."

"Ancient times?" I suddenly had a flash of inspiration and remembered the two words that made the one-eyed middle-aged man feel like he was facing a great enemy. I continued to ask, "Does the ancient times have any special meaning for you?"

The bald man said with a troubled expression, "I don't know either. I only know that the town's councilors often mention mysteriously that we should be wary of something hidden on this planet. I think it must be the code name of some force. After all, Loader's Territory is not a first-rate town at all, and we have to be extra careful about many taboos on the wasteland."

Is it a code name for a certain power? Then haven't I inadvertently built my reputation by striking at their most vulnerable spot?

"Boss, are you really going to town tomorrow? Something doesn't feel right..."

The bald man, trembling, finally spoke his mind.

Although he has secretly reformed and joined my ranks, his public identity is still that of a resident of this town, and he is still burdened with the crime of desertion. If the truth is discovered, his journey to the gallows is inevitable.

"Are you really that afraid of the loader's leader?"

"Of course we're scared. The town has been established for so long because of its undisguised ruthlessness. The number of defectors killed each year, and the number of people executed on charges of treason, is enough to form a company. Those corpses are still hanging on the city walls like cured meat."

He spoke with exaggerated expressions, waving his hands to indicate that the heads were lined up in rows, and there were a great many people.