The sound of iron rods and shovels hitting stones could be heard everywhere, and backbones bent during intense labor could be seen everywhere.
Winter is coming. People are still working hard in the ice and snow, digging through the frozen soil. As long as we continue to work hard, we must build this railway.
This is how steel is made!
...
...
"Where do I start? Where do I start? This long and amazing story?"
Wood Placker holds a thick book. He still has a lot of propaganda work to do. From the eight hundred warriors who landed in Sendai Prefecture to the final moment of the decisive battle on the mountain, there are too many incredible experiences and too many.
Mysterious and fantastic adventures - all recorded in heavy paper documents.
Whether it is external propaganda or internal propaganda, how to properly, rigorously and appropriately explain this battle to people is very important.
No one could help him. Mr. Luo Ping'an, as the representative of the Zhongmiao Sect, after confirming that the battle was over yesterday morning, he hurriedly returned to the Xia Bang court to meet the emperor and went to Hongfa Temple to discuss diplomatic issues.
This was actually more of a shock than a surprise to the Shambhala Empire——
——It’s like a patient with late-stage cancer that has not completely spread and still has a chance to survive. Suddenly a professional medical team emerges from the grass and performs an on-site operation on the patient.
Just ran away.
The emperor of the Great Xia Empire finally bid farewell to the imperially-appointed "national preceptor" of all dynasties - this spiritual Buddha had endured the death of emperors one after another. He invaded the government and the public but was too lazy to kick the emperor off the throne.
In order to reduce management costs, Judah only needs such an agent emperor to let the ministers who govern various ministries and states understand that bloodline determines status, and only dragons can sit on the throne.
The moral sword once again returned to Xia Zi's hands. As for how the subsequent story will be told, that is not decided by Aohun Mingde.
Just like primitive tribes still exist in the surface world, these "primitive people" who are deprived of food and clothing in the eyes of civilized society cannot run overnight towards the atomic energy age of industrialization and modernization, and towards informatization.
era.
The waves rose and fell, and Mr. Wood's body swayed up and down with the bumping boat.
He couldn't hold the pen steady, so he simply held the book, wanting to carefully read the secrets between the lines - wanting to read it again.
It was he who created the symbol "Gunsmith". Now the Gunsmith is alive again, but he will not live long. At most, in fifty or sixty years, this legendary hero will grow old and have to accept physical death.
So in the next era, in the next harvest season, which lucky person will take over the anonymous stick?
Which unlucky guy, who died of overwork, needs to take on the important task of protecting the common people?
It needs irrigation of iron and blood, a hot soul and an immortal will, and a normal heart.
At this moment, an evil shadow slowly squirmed in the cabin——
——That is the retinue of the Ning Guang Buddha, using the power of the evil spirit to follow Wood Plunk all the time.
Mr. Wood didn't notice at all. He had always been a weak scholar who was not good at frontal combat. Killing the enemy in battle was by no means his strong point.
This cold and strange shadow gradually transformed into a human form, turning into a chaotic and blurry virtual image of a man.
His two blood-red eyes gleamed with malice, as if they had been tortured by the sun, and he wanted to blame all of this on Wood Plunk's treacherous scheme.
This member of the Union Church of the United Church knew the whole story and how Priest Judas died. Without Wood Placker, nothing would have happened.
The evil minions were unwilling to give up, nor did they want to rely on the power of the light-avoiding soul to survive. They just wanted Wood to pay the price - but when he really saw the man who was studying at his desk, he flinched.
The sun shone on Wood Placker's resolute face, and under the shadow of his sunglasses, his blue eyes turned brown - the man frowned slightly, concentrating on turning the next page of the story, that concentration and
His firm expression is like that of Guan Gong who is not angry but has no authority.
All this frightened the assassin lurking in the dark. He did not dare to approach Wood, let alone take action rashly.
Half an hour later, Wood still didn't notice anything unusual in the cabin. He reached out to grab the coffee cup, but the frost froze the skin of his thumb. Only then did he become alert, and only then did he realize how ferocious the psychic tide in the environment was.
"Wood! Wood Plunk!"
Seeing that he was about to be exposed, the assassin's heart was also in a state of confusion - once his mind was in a state of confusion, he would speak, and when he spoke, his true colors would naturally appear.
Mr. Wood only felt his hands light up, and at some point, the heavy combat records disappeared.
The book just hung in the air, as if an invisible ghost was hugging it.
"Wood Plunk!" The assassin's tone was frightening, but he was bluffing: "What are you doing? Wood Plunk?"
Wood took off his sunglasses. He had spiritual vision, but was surprised to find that he couldn't see the enemy.
"Are you a fish that slipped through the net of the Unionist Church? No... No, this kind of superpower that hides your body, are you a member of the Eternal Alliance?"
The assassin did not answer—
——His soul power is really weak and has no function in frontal combat, but it is perfect for saving lives.
Compared with John'D's BUG-level ability to erase his sense of existence, this assassin can only attach a special protective color that is completely refractive to the surface of his body or clothing. He is a perfect chameleon.
"What do you want to do? Wood Placker?" the assassin stammered. He was not a prominent talent in the Guild, but Judas Priest would not give up any valuable partner.
"What are you going to do?"
This man hugged the combat record and suddenly became proud and arrogant.
"Priest Judas is dead!~You still want to slander him? And infringe on his reputation? And..."
Before he finished speaking, a stream of blood was poured on the assassin's body - it was the tracer that Wood Plack cut open his palm and poured out.
"Ah!~~~" The assassin held the book with one hand and his chin with the other, looking at the sticky blood with horror on his face. The blood showed the blurry outline of his body, as if he had taken off his mask and exposed himself to the camera.
GD elements, Internet clowns who stripped off their clothes, had their defenses broken by open-box weapons, and were so embarrassed that they said, "Don't mess with me!~~Despicable and shameless bugs!~"
Most of the brave Unionist believers died under the butcher's knife of the unknown——
——Most of the cowards who can survive to this point in time are incompetent rats. This is also very consistent with the law of natural selection. It is not the survival of the strong, but the survival of the fittest.
Wood: "Put your things down and don't disturb my work."
Assassin: "Don't even think about it! I won't let your conspiracy succeed! Wood Plaque!~"
Wood: "Put your things down, I advise you to be kind."
The assassin's legs were trembling, but his mouth was very harsh: "Originally, I wanted to take away your life! Since you begged me like this, you have been fighting with the Judas Priest for so many years - it also means that heroes cherish heroes."
Wood: "Are we really speaking the same language?"
Assassin: "I will let you live for now! But this book! I must take it away! Any remarks that slander the patriarch of Judah - I will give you an iron fist! I will never tolerate it!"
Wood: "Let me say it for the last time, you really, really should put down that diary."
The blood and books suddenly floated out of the ship. The assassin clung to the historical evidence that "slandered" the imam. With these stories, he could go back to the West, or find a cave in Chabon to hide and make up a new story.
He used the Blood Butterfly Bible to make up a completely different story with the kind-hearted and honest natives who were blocked by information - he still had a chance to become an immortal.
He dived into the Sea of Pompeii and swam hard towards Shambhala. The blood on his face was also washed away, and he became a new man again - he could start over without having to face the terrifying monsters on the ship.
The crew heard the shouting and followed Mr. Wood's cabin.
"What's wrong? Plak?"
Wood shook his head, put on his sunglasses again, and gestured with his thumbs to the boatmen.
"Nothing! It's okay!"
He pressed the detonation switch and saw a brilliant splash of water rising from the sea far away from the stern of the ship——
——The fragments of book pages are like petals, floating in the waves of history.
The witness took out another set of backup files from under the table and muttered like a whiny woman.
"The notes were all in vain. Are these assassins always so brave? Doesn't he know that I know kung fu?"
Three full days have passed since Aohun Mingde made his wish——
——The distance between the two suns is getting closer and closer.
They originally showed a figure-eight circling state, sailing on the east and west continents of Shambhala and many island groups on a twenty-four-hour clock.
But the newly born King Xin kept accelerating, and the fiery incarnation of these four million creatures slowly caught up with Io.
Just when Wood Plack was about to take a break from work, he came to the ship's side to look at the sea view and was about to breathe a sigh of relief.
These two scorching fireballs almost burned the white paint on the ship's deck, so that the crew did not dare to raise their heads. Wood Plunk had sunglasses to protect his eyes. He stared at the party A of the destiny contract, spying on the source of the curse.
When they collided, a low buzzing sound came from the distance.
The sun is merging and reuniting, but it has not exploded with greater energy. Instead, the temperature has gradually returned to normal, falling back to 24 degrees Celsius from 32 degrees Celsius when winter just entered.
The sky and earth in Shambhala were originally completely white, and gradually returned to a state of light and dark alternating between day and night - after a long, long time, after a long, long time, the new sun gradually flew away.
Woodpluck doesn't know if this is good or bad, is Io still alive?
Does the goddess who summoned brave men from other worlds still retain consciousness? Will she continue to eat people?
Will all the disasters caused by [Heavenly Grant] end here?
These unknown numbers are closely related to his fate.
The next crucial question comes immediately.
"Depend on!"
If he dies again on Saturday, will the contract signed with Baphomet still be valid?
"What if I don't survive?"
He was freed from the sense of nothingness that meant he couldn't die.
...
...
On the other side, the gunsmith also encountered some trouble.
After boarding the Chinook helicopter gunship, they traveled all the way, picking up Haspen and Wen Bucai, and brought every driver of the mobile team back to Blackwind Town. Then they gradually withdrew the troops and returned to Adulis.
Separate from the larger group.
The reason for this is that the organization department wants to leave a suitable dead end for the gunsmith.
The legendary hero has to give up his name again and become Zhang Congfeng, or live with a new identity.
Jiang Xueming has not been idle these days. He has returned to the transportation team with the students. He has been helping to transport weapons and equipment and working as a boatman at the dock. He just can't idle and wants to be with these younger brothers and sisters and these soldiers.
together.
Because in a few days, he would return home, put down his guns and knives, take off his armor, pick up fishing gear again, and drive his pickup truck - thinking about these things, he began to cry sadly, and the corners of his mouth would curl up unconsciously.
Get up and become the Dragon King with a crooked mouth.
It is inappropriate to call these elite soldiers little warriors, but in the eyes of the gunsmith, these sharp-sword soldiers who came out of Galahad, or ordinary people who joined the army halfway, are all his partners, and they are all his friends.
They are his students—all his like-minded treasures.
At first, the organization department asked the gunsmith to evacuate early, but the gunsmith didn't agree. He left without saying goodbye last time, which made him shed many tears, but these tears cannot be shed in vain.
So he wanted to say goodbye properly - the soldiers from the same armed transport group, Bai Lai, cried even harder this time.
These girls and boys gathered around the Sendai Port District Pier. They did not take a break when it was time to change shifts. They stayed beside the rickshaw master in the reception area, sat on the stone platform guardrail of the wharf, and watched the teacher carry military supplies from a distance.
There were also people from different fighting groups who came to the dock of the cargo ship. They pulled the teacher over and asked for a hug like a baby. But they did not take any photos. They all knew that the teacher was going to "die" again.
There are many, many people, many, many people.
There are many, many people, many, many people.
Countless people, unclear things.
Different stones emit different colors of light, and he is surrounded by colorful spectra and spiritual beings.
...
...
"goodbye teacher!"
"Goodbye! Goodbye teacher!"
"I'm back to the Panda Corps! Teacher!"
"Goodbye! Teacher! Love you!"
"Teacher Gunsmith! Goodbye!"
"Ace! Goodbye!"
"See you later! Teacher!"
"Can I still see you at the Luna Cup? Referee!?"
"Hug me again! Hug me again! Hug me a little longer!"
...
...
It seems that everyone is questioning Seventh Brother, understanding Seventh Brother, and becoming Seventh Brother.
Let time slow down a little more, let time slow down a little more. There are too many things that you can’t let go of, and there are too many things that you can’t let go of.
If possible, perhaps [Regret Medicine] can allow us to read this story again.
...
...
"Help me!~ Leader! Help me!~ It's too heavy!~"
Jason and Gunsmith perform a puppy act.
Arriving at the cargo terminal for special-class dangerous goods and spiritual disaster catalysts——
——The gunsmith began to undertake the transportation of goods as always, and saw clearly the list in the goods column.
He took the cauldron of Dagda from Mr. Jason's hands with great care and carried the heavy cauldron.
Inadvertently, he wanted to call for help from his soul power, but Fenxiang Huanmeng just poked his head in and helped the gunsmith.
In just an instant, the dark golden Holy Grail suddenly seemed like ice and snow exposed to the sun, and was swallowed up by a huge suction force into the fragrant and dreamy spirit.
Jason was so stunned that his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets.
It’s such a big pot and cauldron, it’s gone if you don’t want it!
Jiang Xueming first touched the air a few times, as if Tom had deceived himself when carrying an important item that had disappeared - and then slowly turned around and forced out an awkward smile.
"Did you buy cargo damage insurance? Did you pay shipping insurance?"
Seeing no one around, Jason Megan whispered to the leader.