The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

The hermit's gaze left the inchworm's eyes.

But her arrival just now sparked new inspiration in Chihuku's eyes. He immediately turned to a new page of manuscript paper and devoted himself to writing a script based on "The True Record of the Banyan Tree Library Relics".

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Philanes, Marbein.

Beneath the leaden-gray sky, dark clouds gathered and seemed never to dissipate.

All that can be seen in this ancient ruined city is devastation.

Even when reduced to half-collapsed ruins, towers, whether circular or hexagonal with a honeycomb structure, still resemble colossal mountain ranges. Compared to them, their creators seem insignificant, like dust between fingers or drifting catkins in the wind.

These magnificent buildings that once stood here are the embodiment of the ideals of the Baibei ancestors in reality, and also the sublime result of the wisdom, labor and hard work of countless generations.

Saying goodbye to the warm embrace of the stars of my homeland, embracing the cold, deep, and terrifying distant space—what a fleeting and illusory wish.

But for our ancestors who were determined to seek "pure externality," this audacious idea was simply too beautiful to behold...

"My body is getting weaker and weaker, and I'm feeling increasingly tired. Is this just a common problem that comes with getting older?"

Professor Terence, holding a bronze lantern, uttered a self-deprecating remark.

He walked slowly through the ruins of a church buried deep underground, each step leaving a faint bloodstain in the shape of a shoe print on the ground.

This blood may have come from Terence himself, from the lesser evil offspring born from the Black Wasteland, or from the Marbein remnants who wanted to attack him...

Terence survived the brutal Rheti Wars and was by no means a mere researcher.

Therefore, he doesn't mind taking other people's lives.

A perpetrator who is keen on inflicting violence on others should have no complaints when subjected to the same violence.

To be honest, Terence didn't actually dislike the vicious wanderers in these ruins; quite the opposite. When he encountered them, the professor felt not disgust, but rather a sense of relief and relief.

He had been exploring all this way and still had plenty of food and water left, but the materials needed to power the relic [S-0910. The Hand of the Feast] were completely exhausted. And just at this crucial moment, someone had so kindly come to provide him with the bone meal, oil, and blood plasma he needed…

How could this not bring joy? (The remaining text appears to be random characters and symbols and does not form coherent sentences.)

"At the same time, the feeling of hunger gradually becomes unbearable."

Terence found a stone step in the main hall of the collapsed church and sat down, consciously regulating his breathing to recover his strength.

The professor could feel his salivary glands constantly secreting saliva, and his stomach and intestines convulsing... His body was filled with a powerful craving, a craving that dry rations, canned meat, and clean water could not satisfy.

When Terence decided to use [S-0910. The Hand of the Feast], he had anticipated the current situation, so he underwent a long period of mental preparation and is currently able to remain clear-headed and rational.

However, he still dismembered some of the looters' bodies and carried them with him, for unforeseen circumstances.

If possible, Terrence hoped he would never have to use this backup supply.

"Almost there, almost there..."

He lowered his head and whispered, repeating the same sentence, as if responding to the deep throbbing in his veins, or simply comforting himself.

"The mystery of the Monroe family's demise is now very close."

-

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soup!