In addition to recalling Azima and Rother, Roland also wrote down follow-up arrangements.
Safe uranium mining was a time-consuming and laborious task. Not only did it require detailed working procedures and setting up monitoring nodes, but it also required the workers to have a certain understanding of their own work and meticulously follow the rules.
In the face of the imminent threat of war, Roland naturally did not intend to follow the usual routine.
The North Slope Mine was a good example.
He directly purchased death row prisoners from Duke Quinn and stuffed them all into the ruins. There would be no pay, no holidays, and no protective measures for them. As long as they promised to work for ten years, they would be released. Roland believed that those people would make the right choice between the gallows and a slim chance of survival.
The lords would also be happy to exchange the lives of these scumbags for extra income.
In this way, the 100 soldiers of the exploration team only needed to be responsible for supervision and vigilance, and the requirements for protection were greatly reduced.
Sean was undoubtedly the most suitable candidate for management.
Finally, at the end of the secret letter, Roland specifically asked his guards to find out the whereabouts of the "treasure" that people brought out of the ruins a hundred years ago.
After all, there were a few doubtful points in the rumor that concerned him.
This race, which had never been recorded in history, seemed to have an inexplicable worship for radioactive elements. They used ore to make bricks to build sacrificial temples, used it to torture their enemies, and even swallowed the ore. The remains that were filled with green fluorescence in Azima's eyes were proof of this. Although it was not clear whether their extinction was directly related to this worship, it should be very appropriate to call them the radiation race.
Of course, the world was so big that it was not unusual for any kind of civilization to appear. What was really strange was that whether they went deep into the mines or used ore to make bricks, it was impossible to cause "flesh and blood ulceration". Even if they lived in the mines and were exposed to all kinds of decay radiation for a long time, the only result was a sharp increase in the incidence of cancer. They could have lived for 80 years, but in the end, they only lived to 66.
After all, the efficiency of releasing nuclides by natural decay was too low.
According to the rumor, the unlucky people who died tragically did not seem to have died of cancer or mutation complications. Instead, they seemed to have been affected by strong radiation.
In order to meet the latter condition, only high-purity nuclear matter could be achieved, and a large number of neutrons and hard gamma rays could be produced in an instant. However, this situation did not seem to be a level that the radiation race could achieve.
Roland did not rule out the possibility that the rumor itself had distorted the truth, but there should have been more than one person who knew about the tragic situation of the villagers at that time. If it was true, the problem was likely to lie in those "treasures".
Only in this way could the ruins take on the role of the execution altar. Otherwise, every prisoner could live for more than ten years before they died. If the altar was not built into a high-rise apartment building, it would not be able to accommodate so many people.
It was a pity that a hundred years had far exceeded the retrospective period of A Xia. It was almost impossible to completely know what happened at that time, so he could only let Xiao En try his best.
He vaguely felt that the truth behind the rumors might not be that simple.
…
After Honey took the letter away, Roland walked to his desk and carefully looked at the mural rubbing that was spread out on the table.
Although the distorted ink images were full of weird and absurd things, he could still roughly recognize the subject and the object. Most of the subjects were located in the center of the paintings, with large and delicate outlines, representing the owners of the ruins. The objects were much smaller, filling in every corner, and Roland could feel the pain and fear from their ferocious expressions.
This was probably the common characteristic of all intelligent beings — they always regarded themselves as the protagonists in the historical records.
As Xiao En said, both the subject and the object had nothing to do with the known alien races such as demons, demonic beasts, and the undersea civilization. Their shapes were really a bit weird. Some were like matchsticks, with limbs and tails indistinguishable; some were like wriggling protozoa, with all the organs hidden in the brain.
The contents of the murals were not all related to the execution. Several of the rubbing depicted the scene of the subject and the object fighting. They seemed to be able to fly with the wind by expanding their bodies and take advantage of high-altitude maneuverability to land behind the enemy on a large scale to achieve a two-pronged attack. The towering defense line did not play any role. The city was turned into a sea of fire, and the object was defeated.
As long as one could distinguish the respective positions of the characters, one could roughly understand the events described in these seemingly crazy records.
"Hmm?" Roland's eyes suddenly stopped on a picture.
"What's wrong?" Nightingale noticed his strangeness.
"Do you feel that the scene in this rubbing seems to have been seen somewhere before?" He walked to the painting and squatted down. It was the last part of the description of the war: countless matchsticks combined as one, as if they wanted to fight to the death, but were still beaten to the ground by the subject. Blood surged and converged into a huge lake. The surviving enemies fled to the seaside, but were all killed by the subject. Their bodies even piled up into a small hill in the sea.
"Well..." Nightingale looked at it for a long time and said, "Except for the more ink used, it seems to be no different from other drawings."
Alright, combat ability and art appreciation ability were indeed natural opposites. Roland put his hand on his forehead and said, "Help me get a map of the Southernmost Region first."
"Got it." The latter did as he was told and handed him a thick stack of maps. At the same time, he also handed him a dried fish.
Roland bit the dried fish and kept moving his hands. Soon, he found a bird's-eye view of a part of the Endless Cape.
In order to determine the location of the Festive Harbor, he had asked Lightning and Maggie to draw a detailed map of this place, so he still had an impression of it. When he put the two maps together, he suddenly felt a layer of goosebumps on his back. His body felt like it was electrified, and even his fingertips were numb.
The outlines of the two maps overlapped!
Although there were some differences in the details, the direction of the boundary between the mainland and the Swirling Sea was basically the same. The similarity was more than 80%!
"Could it be... a coincidence?"
"Hmm, the place on this map is the Southernmost Region?" Nightingale also noticed something was wrong. "Isn't that the settlement of the Sand Nation?"
Roland did not answer, but quickly glanced at the rest of the pictures.
When he saw the second to last picture, all the blood in his body seemed to have frozen.
More than ten main bodies were gathered on a high platform, forming a large circle around each other. An irregular polyhedron floated in the middle of the circle, with countless strange tentacles dancing on its surface, like the hair of a snake demon.
Sean had not seen this scene with his own eyes, so he naturally did not know what was shown in the picture.
But Roland knew.
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