Pit Text Recovery System [Quick Transmigration]

"Dead... really dead... how could he die... no... no..."

A hoarse and confused voice kept murmuring, a man in a black robe was holding a young man who had lost his breath in his arms, as if he didn't believe that he just died like this.

The voice seemed desolate and eerie in the wilderness where there were few people.

"He is dead."

A frost-cold voice sounded, and a handsome man in white clothes stepped over the corpses all around him, slowly came to the boy, and slowly squatted down.

Looking at the blood-stained chest, Chang Qing lowered his eyelids slightly, and stroked it with his long, white fingers, with gentle movements, as if he was stroking a peerless treasure.

"Is it still too late..." Chang Qing's mouth curled into a faint smile, and he raised his eyes slightly, his cold eyes looked at the blood-stained sword that was discarded behind Meng Jing, and slowly stood up , walked towards the sword that took the boy's life.

And that Meng Jing seemed to have lost his soul, he turned a blind eye to Chang Qing's arrival and departure, and kept murmuring the words just now, as if these were the only words left in his life.

It wasn't until a sword pierced his chest, at the last moment of his life, that he regained his soul for a short time. He turned his head and looked at the handsome man in white. Is that the sword that killed him?"

"Yes." Chang Qing replied coldly.

After Meng Jing got the answer he wanted, he showed a happy and satisfied smile, as if it was his life's pursuit to die on the same sword as the boy.

After Meng Jing turned his head, he gently stroked the young man's delicate and beautiful cheek, and opened his mouth slightly to say something, but the blood had already overflowed one step ahead, dripping on the young man's face, and then slid into the ear temples. Life, but still gives people a gorgeous feeling that shocks the soul.

Meng Jing didn't restrain his own life from passing, instead he took the young man's hand and stroked the sword marks on the young man's palm. The sword pierced into the chest prevents the pursuer from pulling it out, so that he can kill the pursuer in one fell swoop, but finally falls down.

Meng Jing felt that all the fame and wealth in the past were not as good as one of the ten thousand young people in his arms.

He leaned over and kissed the boy's lips, "Don't go too fast, wait for me."

Chang Qing watched this scene from behind him, the eyes that should have been cold and indifferent turned out to be stormy, and said cruelly: "He won't wait for you, because—"

Chang Qing deliberately paused, and after Meng Jing's expression suddenly changed, he said: "He is seeking relief by dying!"

Under Chang Qing's words, Meng Jing pressed his chest as if he was suffering an unbearable pain. A mouthful of blood spurted out, and he fell to the ground, his painful face distorted with regret.

Chang Qing glanced at him, walked up to the boy and squatted down, took out a handkerchief, wiped off the blood that belonged to Meng Jing on the boy's face, then threw it aside in disgust, stretched out his arms and picked it up. Young man, prepare to leave.

"Don't, don't go..." There was a strong pleading in the weak and eager voice, "Don't go, please, don't take him away..."

Chang Qing glanced at Meng Jing for the last time, and left without pausing.

And the moment Chang Qing left with the boy in his arms, Meng Jing's eyes also dimmed, and a line of tears slid down from the corner of his eyes.

Never rest in peace!

***

In an independent space, Zhong Xibai was sitting on the sofa, holding a book in his hand, watching this scene from the flowing pictures in the book.

【Ding--】

[The mission is completed, confirmed, and ready to be recycled. 】

A vacuum cleaner appeared out of thin air, aimed at the book in Zhong Xibai's hand and started to operate.

There was no wind, but one by one characters were separated from the book in Zhong Xibai's hand, and were sucked into the vacuum cleaner, and then the black characters were transformed into white light spots in the vacuum cleaner. Freed from the confinement of the vacuum cleaner, floating in this space.

Zhong Xibai stretched out his hand to touch the white spot of light right in front of him.

The white light spot seems to be very close to Zhong Xibai, just when Zhong Xibai's fingertips just touched it, the white light spot immediately melted into Zhong Xibai's body with his fingertips.

The emotion that he gave in that world before gradually disappeared, Zhong Xibai smiled and withdrew his hand.

【Ding--】

【Recycling is successful. 】

The next moment, the white light spots all over the space penetrated the space wall one after another and floated towards the reader...

From then on, the memory of this book will be buried deep in the reader's memory, the resentment from the reader will also dissipate, and there will be no record of this book in the plane that governs the literary world.

The author created the world, the proliferation of online literature, coupled with many reasons, many worlds were complained by readers, which had a great impact on the entire plane, so the managers of the plane had to come up with a solution to stabilize this world. As a result, there was the "Peng Wen Recycling Office".

The firm can accept strong grievances from readers. After the readers fill out the application form for recycling, there will be a special person to do a survey on the readers. If more than 60.00% of the people have grievances about this article, then they will contact the The author communicated that if the author agrees to the recycling, then their firm will send professional personnel to that world to carry out the recycling work.If the author disagrees, then when the reader's resentment index reaches 80.00%, it will be forcibly withdrawn.

Another situation is that the author can directly request the recovery from their office, then only need to sign the agreement.

And he, Zhong Xibai, is one of the professional recyclers.

In the end, the applicant will not have the memory of the relevant firm.

As for the destruction of the world that lost its origin, it is all decided in the hands of the recyclers. If they are reluctant to lose the world they have conquered, they can only collect it by themselves and become a collection that exists independently in the hands of the recyclers.

After the recyclers choose to collect, they also become the masters of this world, which is a matter of course.

In this regard, the office never interferes, because the plane only needs to be purified, which is like a ruthless way.

[Host, are you going to the next world? 】

Too many readers and authors came to the office to apply for recycling, so there was no need to wait at all, and they could go to the next world.

Zhong Xibai looked at the picture still flowing on the book in his hand. Chang Qing stored his body in an ice coffin that could keep his body from decaying. With a soft smile, he stared at his face motionlessly, as if he was the only one in the whole world.

People who used to be free from lead dust have now fallen into the secular world and are close to madness.

Zhong Xibai frowned, stretched out his hand to cover the screen, but stopped suddenly.

After a long time, Zhong Xibai let out an inaudible sigh, after all, he turned a page in the heavenly scriptures.

Zhong Xibai closed the book in his hand and said, "Let's go to the next world."