Chapter 315 Conduction
【Ventilation】
A lake bed that breathes could not be more strange.
Apart from such words, it is difficult to find another description that can describe the appearance of the entire base supporting the lake when it is lifted.
The weak body's breathing was short and deep, like a live fish thrown ashore. It tried to filter out more oxygen by swinging its gas exchange organs at high frequencies, but finally found that it was useless.
The content of the air that sustains life is declining, diluted by the gas that rises to the surface surrounded by large numbers of bubbles.
It seems very light, but it is as irritating as anything else, burning fiercely on the mucous membranes of the mouth, nose and meninges. It's the kind of terrible flavor that seals the screaming in the blocked bronchus and is over-fermented - putrid, suffocating, and extreme.
The light smeared the bloodless face with a comical paleness like a palace buffoon, but the lips turned deep purple.
The mist is shining, allowing the light to bypass obstacles and spread through it without any angle restrictions. It climbs over the side of the ship, penetrates into the belly of the ship, and crawls into the shrinking and trembling pupils.
What arrives with the smell and light are eleven million voices, either roaring or whispering, using different voices and different words to express the same meaning, looking for the mind that can understand them.
The surface of the water swelled and fell like an abscess, bursting into turbid waves that were higher than the head and swept across.
Behind the gray-yellow water curtain are high prismatic walls that have been uprooted one after another, and the gaps are filled with hissing biomass. Those things that once inhabited the lake island buildings are now shaped into the most efficient form, lifting these giant pillars made of celestial remains from the bottom of the lake with a force that exceeds the limits of materials.
This slow movement alone causes the unbearable biomass to continue to collapse, peel off from the adhering stone pillars, and then be captured by the floating filter-feeding structure and reintegrate into it without any hindrance.
Fresh air is sucked into a cavity that is longer and more complex than a pipe organ, making a long sound like a whale's cry.
The sound waves came first and passed through the body unobstructed, pulling the organs to vibrate with its frequency, almost breaking away from the control of the frenulum and joining in.
People with a keener sense may detect a hint of secret sadness, similar to looking back at the distant homeland behind them when traveling far away. Rejection of the unfamiliar environment wells up in their hearts, but they are immediately overwhelmed by intense physical discomfort.
And in a brief encounter, the spiritual senses touch something similar to its own nature in the "lake bed".
The extremely large size and the deep pale color make it real and easy to detect.
But unlike the embryonic state of the bacterium and the sample spirit body, "it", or "they" are in an extremely mature state, no different from the human beings who are being pulled into the depths, but the form is messy, like being kneaded together and then The clay sculptures that could not be completely integrated accumulated into grotesque clay hills.
Pure repressed pain flows within it, mobilizing the huge volume and mass, activating the instincts carried in the pillars built from the celestial debris, and moving closer to its source.
The world recognized by the spiritual senses is as dark as a rapidly aging wall, and the "color" is losing, moving closer to an environment that is almost the same, but with a monotonous and lack of background color. Two layers of different colors are pinched together, not quite. Evenly mixed with each other.
But it is not enough. Size is both an advantage and a liability. With these, it is never possible to break through the final threshold and completely break down the barriers between levels.
So it is still trapped here, continuing the endless painful struggle and attempt. The instinctive desire and pain to return to the deeper levels have become entangled into an almost substantive concept, boiling in this extremely huge spiritual body, and It is conveyed to the lunar skeleton as the main body of the structure.
Ultimately, the authority to travel between different depths manifests itself in distorted, sharp forms.
Elongated fissures visible to the naked eye radiate out, like long transparent whiskers whipping the space, and turbulent water bursts out from it, mixed with severed fluorescent tissue.
A large number of luminous creatures can be seen swimming on the other side of the crack, actively colliding with this line of death. Most of them are divided and dissociated. A very few enter the living world with the current at the cost of abandoning most of their bodies from the wider crack. However, It cannot escape the fate of becoming a new component of the lake bed. An overall meager amount of biomass supplementation did nothing to assuage its pain, and it continued to boil, searching for an outlet.
When awareness of its existence occurs, reverse attention is also established.
Conceptual pain flows along the established connection, projected into every consciousness that recognizes it, and transmitted into new media.
The deeper and more complete the understanding, the more solid and broad the connection will be, and the more efficient the transmission will be.
A more advanced way of communicating information.
A ferocious look occupied every facial muscle of each person, which was a painful recognition that could not be shaken off.
Kraft quickly contracted his mental senses and closed his eyes, as if he were touching blazing coals. The high temperature was instantly introduced from the contact surface, leaving indelible traces.
A special kind of pain is burned into the spiritual body.
After a few long seconds that seemed like an eternity, the huge wave caused by the activity finally arrived.
The ship was thrown high into the air, spun and pitched, and pushed away. This is a blessing. They no longer have to bathe in the inevitable extreme negative feelings, and they are also far away from the space being cut.
The wooden barrels fixed to the ship played an important role in barely maintaining buoyancy, allowing the water-filled ship to survive, dragging its passengers into the unknown.
In the chaos, they only remembered to grab the nearest fixed rope, take a breath, and then hold their breath as they were pushed back into the water one wave after another.
It's impossible to open your eyes in the water where the mud and sand merge, but you can feel that they are moving away from the source of light and sound, and are being sent back into the darkness by the spreading waves.
I don't know how long it took, but when the wind and waves calmed down a little, they were completely unable to identify their direction. Even Craft couldn't get any positional information in the spinning world.
Those huge outlines seem to have turned to the other side. At first glance, the lines have some impression. If you compare them carefully with your memory, you will realize that the position and shape are completely different, and you can't find a suitable reference.
Looking around, the beacon of hope I placed before setting off failed to create miracles. Perhaps they were swept deeper into the lake, well beyond the reach of the guide.
Everything on the boat was soaked, and the body below the waist was soaked in water. The supplies and equipment that were not completely fixed were left in the lake water, and most of the rest had been soaked for a long time. In this case, there was no need to expect a layer of paper to seal the bag.
The thing that made people sweat the most was the crossbow. When the impact came, the finger that lost conscious control pulled the firing trigger. The arrow directly penetrated the two stacked layers of packages, nailed into the bottom of the ship, and was half submerged in it.
More than half of the fuel was lost, and one of the mesh bags holding the oil tank was shaken out and hit the hull of the ship. The inside is now shattered into pieces.
Bundles of torches, or as they should now be called, piles of wet sticks, were of questionable value. There was a spare oil lamp, but the problem was how to rekindle it.
They were lost in these dark waters, running out of supplies, and suffering mental and physical torture.
What's even worse is that the long-standing "Prophet" character in the team seems to be in worse shape than anyone else.
The pain did not seem to weaken on him as time and distance stretched. On the contrary, his condition seemed to be buried alive in the air, trying to grab something from the environment to sustain survival, but finding nothing.