Mystery: emerging from the wilderness of knowledge

"A world composed of pure information?" Renekton frowned slightly and murmured in a low voice.

His intuition was that what Amon said was true, but he felt no trace of the existence of the information world in this city.

Seemingly seeing what Renekton was thinking, Amon chuckled and explained:

"The Sexitine, which is composed of pure information, is hidden by the puppets here and falls silent with them."

"Do you have a way to get in?" Renekton said firmly.

Amon nodded and said:

"Of course, it's easy for me, just make some mistakes and cheat some rules."

"'Error' is the natural enemy of this information world. Its logic is far less complex and tight than the real world, and there are loopholes everywhere that can be exploited."

Bugs are the lifelong enemy of programmers. Renekton couldn't help but sigh in his heart. By the time he came to his senses and calmed down, it was already too late.

Amon sneered with a dark expression on his face, and then said calmly:

"Oh, you still know about bugs. Did that madman tell you? It's obviously impossible. So, you and my father have some kind of relationship? Is this why you cooperate with that madman?"

"By the way, what is a programmer? Is it a title for people who can create the information world?"

He was careless. Renekton looked at Amon calmly, thinking about how he should escape.

Amon suddenly stood up from the sofa, clapped his hands, and transparent faces emerged from the surroundings one after another. They were big or small, but they all looked exactly like Amon.

Some are parasitic in the dust in the air, some are parasitic on bookshelves, and some are parasitic on walls and floors.

All the Amons looked at Renekton with eager eyes. In the strange atmosphere, all the Amons said simultaneously:

"The land abandoned by the gods is closed to the outside world. Here, the 'Hidden Sage' can't help you. How do you want to get rid of me? Rely on the remaining divine power of those guys? Last time, you took advantage of the mob and the night. This time it's time to Who is it? The noisy sun? Or the old dragon who is always betraying?"

After a pause, the Amon who first appeared said playfully:

"Or do you want to rely on the help of the 'Fool'?"

Perhaps it was because he had been in contact with Amon too much. At this moment, Renekton's first reaction was not to panic, nor to rush to escape, but to complain in his heart: It's broken, and he fell into the pile of Amon.

Amon, who was standing in the middle of the hall, said without any change in his expression: "You don't seem to be in a hurry."

Renekton shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly:

"It's useless for me to be anxious, right?"

"At this moment, we have no reason for conflict."

After a pause, he suddenly said: "How about playing a game?"

"What game?" Amon asked curiously.

Renekton was silent for a moment, then organized his speech and introduced:

"Well, we can call it: Werewolf."

"This game requires a certain number of people to take on the identities of paupers, hunters, witches, good guys, and werewolves. It just so happens that you have many clones."

While speaking, Renekton's eyes swept over the large and small transparent faces around him. He carefully explained the rules of werewolf killing to Amon.

Finally, he added:

"Your clones cannot communicate with each other other than through language during the game."

Amon looked at Renekton for a moment without any emotion. Just when Renekton thought he would refuse, he suddenly smiled and nodded:

"Sounds fun, I agree."

"Which of you is willing to participate?"

"Me." All Amon spoke at the same time.

Amon glanced at the transparent faces around him, and said without surprise: "You can vote and decide."

The transparent faces around them, large or small, suddenly fell silent, as if they were communicating in some secret way.

Seeing this scene, Renekton's eyes darkened, and he looked at Amon, who was wearing a black classical robe and a pointed hat of the same color in front of him, and said:

"Now I somewhat believe that you are the original body."

"Is this important? As long as I want, the body and the clone can be interchanged at any time."

As Amon spoke, he pinched the monocle he wore on his right eye. A pale white light flashed across the lens. A round table with gorgeous decorations suddenly appeared in the center of the hall, with eight high-back tables scattered around it. chair.

Renekton's eyes swept over the tables and chairs that suddenly appeared. He could see all kinds of details and information. They were products of the Tudor Empire in the Fourth Age. In the middle of the round table were the emblems of the Amon family at that time and even tables and chairs. Yes, it's hard not to wonder whether Amon's collection contains all kinds of items in the world.

Amon suddenly said: "Do you want to go into my collection room and take a look?"

Renekton waved his hands and said, "No, I don't want to become one of your collections."

"It doesn't have to be in the form of collectibles. You can fight for it." Amon said without sincerity.

The corner of Renekton's mouth twitched: "So what did you really think just now?"

"You can guess, or try." Amon said with a chuckle.

"Forget it, I'm not interested." Renekton shook his head and refused.

While the two were chatting, the surrounding Amons had already completed their voting. Finally, the Amons with the strongest auras came out. Their bodies quickly became solid, and their images also changed. Some of them turned into those from the Fourth Age. Some of the ancient nobles became postmen carrying messenger bags, and some became sailors.

Everyone found a place and sat around the round table.

Sandwiched among a bunch of Amon, Renekton always felt a little uncomfortable, as if he was the husky that had wandered into the pack of wolves.

After everyone was seated, he tapped the table with his right hand twice, making a clicking sound.

Little bits of starlight overflowed and solidified into eight playing cards in mid-air, with images of witches, werewolves, hunters, etc. on them.

Snapped!

Amon, who was sitting at the top and was wearing a black classical robe, suddenly raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Renekton felt that he instantly lost control of the cards condensed by starlight in mid-air.

Amon raised his hand without changing his expression and pinched the monocle on his right eye. A majestic male voice suddenly sounded:

"Extraordinary abilities are prohibited here!"

With these words, Renekton instantly felt that most of his extraordinary abilities were lost, and the remaining extraordinary abilities that could still be used were also greatly weakened. However, the extraordinary abilities of maintaining illusions and cards around him were not affected.

Amon looked at Renekton with a smile on his face and said with a smile:

"Some little ways to prevent cheating."

"Don't look at me like this. I'm not the 'Black Emperor'. In most cases, I still abide by the rules. After all, this is more conducive to fraud and theft, and it is also more challenging, isn't it?"

Feeling the changes in himself, Renekton said with a suspicious tone:

"This level of 'banning' doesn't seem to be working for you."

Amon showed no anger at being exposed, and spoke very calmly:

"It's just that it can be circumvented, but it doesn't have any impact at all. With the eyesight of the 'Prophecy Master', I believe you can tell whether I cheated or not."

Renekton sighed softly and said: "So I don't really want to play games with you. If you don't play some high-end operations, you won't be Amon."

"You really know me, why don't we add some chips to the game. The loser needs to satisfy a small need of the winner, just a small need."

Amon added an accent to the words "little need."

Renekton smiled noncommittally and said:

"Then you use your own authority to magnify this 'small need'?"

"But it's okay. I'm sitting here anyway, so I don't seem to have a chance to say no."

After the words fell, he leaned back on the chair, trying his best to relax and clear his mind, so as not to let Amon steal too much information from him.

Amon reached out and took off the monocle from his right eye and threw it in his hand. The other Amon around also took off the monocle they were wearing and silently put it back in their pockets.

"This will make me appear more sincere. So, let's get started."

As Amon spoke, he tapped his right index finger twice on the table. The cards that were originally floating quietly in the air were disrupted, interspersed with each other, and constantly changing positions.

The next moment, the positions of these cards were replaced, and they appeared in front of the people sitting around the round table, with a card staying in front of each person.

Renekton calmly glanced at the card in front of him. On it was a middle-aged man wearing gray coarse cloth. Under the card, there was a word written in the ancient Fusac language: civilian.

It is hard not to suspect that Amon was behind the drawing of the identity cards. He complained in his mind. Renekton raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The cards floating in front of everyone instantly shattered and turned into little stars and dissipated.

Sitting at the top, Amon, wearing a black classical robe, glanced sideways at Renekton and said:

"You 'Peepers' have very good eyes. I wonder if you have written down these identity tags?"

"Do you value me too much, or do you underestimate yourself too much?"

Renekton replied calmly. He looked up expressionlessly and glanced at Amon, who was sitting in the main seat and seemed to be his true form. He really didn't steal my thoughts, or he just didn't show it and was preparing to deceive me later. .

While the two were talking, another translucent Amon emerged from the middle of the round table. He was like a ghost, ethereal and insubstantial.

This floating Amon was wearing a white clergy robe and holding a silver cross in both hands. He floated in the air and said in a low and thick voice:

"Prepare."

"Please close your eyes when it gets dark."

Amon, the cleric floating in the middle of the round table, advanced the process in a calm voice. Renekton, who was sitting on the high-backed chair, closed his eyes intuitively while unconsciously clenching the armrest with his right hand.

Amon's killings can't be real killings, right? Fortunately, I prepared a few more paper man substitutes before. Why do I have to play games with Amon out of my mind? I feel like I am his game. There are a group of Amon's oppressors sitting around. Because of his feelings, Renekton could only reduce the pressure by constantly slandering him.