Zongman: Please stop destroying the worldview!

The atmosphere in the room was so heavy that it almost stagnated. After a long while, Xiaozhi finally spoke:

"Let me be clear, I'm not the type to teach gently. Like I did just now, I can still say harsh words."

Chen Mo: "Is 'rotten to death' considered an unpleasant word? You're so gentle, you're just a pushover..."

Xiaozhi felt his temper hanging in the air, unable to rise or fall, and finally turned into a sentence: "Then continue!"

"Okay, continue!"

So they continued like this, but from the side, Aine thought the atmosphere was a bit scary.

"This is wrong, try again!"

"What are you doing? At this rate, you'll never get on stage!"

"Get serious! The keyboard is not that easy!"

"Change your attitude!"

"If you go on stage like this, the audience will be bored to death!"

The sound of pressure echoed throughout the room, and Aine felt weak, pitiful, and helpless. Having such a big Rikki putting pressure on others made her scalp tingle even though she was not the one being pressured.

Momo is such a good person. Fortunately, the guitar teacher he found for me was the gentle and lovely Pochi-chan, so he left this pressure to himself.

I'll definitely thank Mr. Boqi next time we meet! Even though I play guitar so well, you never say you're stressed. You're simply the most gentle person in the world!

---

"Goodbye!"

When it was time to say goodbye, Xiaozhi left, and Aiyin leaned close to Chen Mo and whispered, "Hey, momomo, is that all for today?"

Chen Mo: "The time-delaying effect will last for a while. Go home and practice on your own for the remaining dozens of hours today."

Aine: "That's not what I'm talking about. That oblivionis classmate said such harsh words to you today, weren't you angry?"

Chen Mo: "Why are you angry? She doesn't mean any harm. For someone like me, being able to discern whether someone has malicious intent is a very important skill."

Aiyin was a little confused: "Malice, how can you tell?"

Chen Mo: "It's best if you don't understand. It would be best if you never encounter true malice in your life and live a happy life."

"Yes, really?"

"Besides, she's right. Playing in a band in this world is really just a relaxing entertainment for me."

Chen Mo said, "I still have important things to do when I get back."

"Well, goodbye, Momo?"

"Goodbye."

-

After returning to the Mage Tower, Chen Mo briefly discussed work with his subordinates. Thanks to Qing Gao's hard work, the Wanshiwu seemed to be in good order.

After letting Qinggao go back to the bedroom assigned to him to rest, Chen Mo asked Ailumao and Itomori to return to their respective nests.

I've spent a lot of time playing with the band these past two days, and it's time to get down to business.

Chen Mo walked into the basement. This strange space opened up by magic was more like a huge cave than a basement, divided into multiple independent levels. This was where Chen Mo stored important things.

The summoned dragon's treasure trove is on the first level of the cave, filled with gold, silver, jewels, and gemstones of all kinds. Truly dangerous weaponry and artifacts are sealed on another level, and further down are several aether-powered airships and war machines from past worlds.

Chen Mo came to the most important layer. The Swarm Lord split a large amount of biomass from his body and formed a petri dish.

The remains of Vilanser were immersed in it, and the remaining memories were being extracted from its broken flesh.

This elf, who has lived for thousands of years, has his memories obfuscated and blocked by some rather sophisticated means. Ordinary mind spells cannot read accurate information, and can only obtain a random memory of his life.

Chen Mo had no choice but to use the dumbest method, asking the Swarm Lord to read out all of his thousands of years of memory, and then find useful information bit by bit.

This method was quite time-consuming and laborious, requiring at least dozens of days. However, with the help of Chen Mo's time delay, it had now been completed.

Chen Mo looked at the remains of Vilanser and gave orders to the Swarm Lord, passing on the useful information in his memory:

"Let me see, old dragon's lackey. What is the current information about the Far Universe, the original intention of the camp, and the method of the planeswalker's world?"

Chapter 48: Endless Malice

----

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

It doesn't exist. It shouldn't exist.

Go back to your own world, you are not welcome here!

You are a bunch of despicable pests who steal other people's worlds and live in other people's stories!

You vermin that roam the world!

Punishment! Punishment! Punishment! Judgment! Judgment! Judgment!

Oh, Nameless Supreme, please destroy our kind and finally destroy myself!

----

The moment he came into contact with Vilanthar's memories, he was immediately overcome by a wave of near-violent emotion. Contrary to the elven noble's noble and arrogant exterior, all of his memories were imbued with a strong sense of malice, and the emotional onslaught blurred the information within his memory.

Chen Mo: "What's going on, Swarm Lord? Didn't my order say to remove useless memories and only keep the useful information?!"

The Swarm Lord's mental link quickly sent an explanation, and Chen Mo realized that it was not because the Swarm Lord was not doing his job well, but because all of this guy's memories were filled with malice so strong that it was distorted. To obtain useful information from it was like looking for a needle in a haystack in a sea of ​​hatred and curses.

Fortunately, the Zerg have no emotions. If someone else were to traverse such malicious memories, they would probably have some psychological problems.

Chen Mo: "If this isn't some kind of anti-mind-reading measure, then this guy is pretty crazy. No wonder, how can anyone who worships Old Dragon be a normal person?"

Chen Mo had no choice but to flip forward to see when this strong malice began, and he was already hundreds of years old.

The time and space where Vilanser was born was not vast, but a small fantasy world - swords and magic, various races, and beliefs spread across the continent.

The high elves, who are long-lived, intelligent, powerful, and beautiful, naturally rule over the remaining lesser races.

The noble blood of the high elves and the innate powerful magical talent made it easy for Vilanthar to become the chief judge who tried sinners, and he was almost at the top of power in the entire world.

Vilanser once did not understand some emotions, such as hatred and fear.

He always believed that these emotions were only possessed by inferior species, and that as a superior race, they should not be so barbaric.

When he sees his fellow countrymen often falling into various malicious emotions in the struggle for power, he will feel a sense of superiority that is nobler than his noble fellow countrymen.

He was not overwhelmed by arrogance or greed, and even after becoming the chief judge, he maintained an approachable attitude. He believed that this attitude was more elegant than the pretentiousness of his fellow tribesmen, not to mention that he also had a rare sense of humor.

Yes, a sense of humor. The same kind of people always fall into some meaningless negative emotions, especially when faced with some rebellious acts made by inferior species. Their brutality and stupidity will shake their mood and make them immersed in anger, worry and even sadness.

But Vilanser was different. He could judge them with his own unique approachability and peace, and punish them with a sense of humor. Therefore, he was also the most popular judge in history.

Indeed, the elves are the Creator's most perfect creations, while other races are merely "temporary motes of dust," born to be ruled. The rebellion of those inferior species stems from their inherent lack of wisdom and base nature. In the face of such situations, we should take them lightly, treating them as a joke played by the world, and handling them with care and without malice.

For example, the human poet who wrote a ballad satirizing the elven nobles did not need to be killed violently like the orcs. Instead, magic was used to make thorns grow in his throat, which would pierce his vocal cords with every breath until he suffocated in severe pain.

The dwarf clans who tried to resist the elves' ore tax were all imprisoned in a magnificent prison made of pure gold, and left to starve to death surrounded by wealth - because "since you are so greedy, let you die in the thing you desire most."

As for the barbaric orcs, their minds might not even grasp the significance of our punishment. We can only resort to a simpler method: imprisoning the souls of hundreds of captured orcs in magical crystals, creating a wailing "spectacle" perfect for adorning palace corridors and drawing the admiration of many of our own kind. Wouldn't this transform their savage lives into a sublime work of art?

This is how a powerful and perfect tribe should rule over a weak and humble tribe. This is the rule of this world. Following the rules means walking on the right path and finding peace of mind and happiness.

This is what Vilanthar thought, and this is how the world responded to his thoughts.

The world should have been perfect forever, but someone broke this perfection! The whole world was destroyed and fell into eternal depravity!

No one knows when, but a strange individual suddenly appeared among the lowly human population. He openly raised the banner of rebellion against the noble race and gathered almost all the inferior species together!

Vilanser originally thought that this was just another little joke, a hunt that he could enjoy, and that the rebellion was just a little bigger in scale, but how could these slaves and untouchables be able to defeat our powerful force?

But why was that human able to achieve such a degree? Why did every attempt to siege him end in failure? Why did every action against him ultimately fail?

Also, how come this human being is so strong?

In a very short period of time, this human went from being a slave with only brute force to a powerful being who could easily change the situation of a battle and destroy half a city with a single spell!

This is impossible! This is not right! This is not how the world works!

In the end, this matter was no longer just a matter of the Inquisition. The entire continent was dragged into the war, and the High Elves' powerful army, which was unrivaled in the world, began to suppress the weak and inferior species.

This is how it should be—but why, for some incomprehensible reason, did a powerful army of their own race get defeated? What kind of weapons were the enemy troops using?

Why can the most cowardly dwarf, after using the war machine made by humans, pose a threat to the powerful elf warrior?

Why on earth? We are the most powerful and intelligent people in this world, so why does such a person exist? He shouldn't exist in this world!

That human being really shouldn't exist in this world, because he isn't originally from this world.

When Vilansel learned the news, it was already too late. The brutal and bloodthirsty army of the inferior species was already besieging the royal city.

The reign of the High Elves is about to end, and the world will be dragged into the abyss of error.

At this moment, colleagues from the Inquisition finally uncovered the traitor who had been aiding that human. It turned out to be their own daughter—a relative connected to them by blood. She had actually defected to that human's side! She also claimed that she was a so-called "traveler" who had come to correct the world's mistakes.

Ha, lowly human beings, actually use such nonsense to disturb their own minds!

The battle raged until the very end, with many of their own kind siding with the rebels. The dome of the Elf King's final temple collapsed, and the moonlight was obscured by smoke.

At this moment, this has become the final battlefield.

Though he could summon thunderbolts that instantly reduced hundreds to charcoal, Vilanthar was ultimately powerless to withstand the overwhelming force. His robes were stained with blood and ash, and his once perfectly coiffed hair lay as tangled as dead grass. The roar of the rebels rose from all directions, but he simply stared at his shaking hands.

"This is impossible……"

His lips moved and his voice was as soft as a dream talk.

"Inferior race,,,,,, how is it possible...,,,,"

Those filthy, short-lived, ignorant ants—how dare they? How could they deserve it?

"My order... my right world!"

He stumbled to his feet and kicked over a golden incense burner, which then spilled the burning fat of dwarven slaves onto him. The flames licked the hem of his robes, and he suddenly laughed shrilly.

"You think you've won? Savages need masters! Without us, you'll turn yourselves into a swamp of flesh and blood!"

He waved his arms wildly, as if addressing an invisible parliament: