My name is Jock and I'm a war correspondent.

My job is to be on the front lines of the war and bring the most authentic news of the war to the people of my country.

War is bound to be bloody and brutal.

And my job is dangerous and difficult.

In my country, there are only a handful of war correspondents like me.

Because as long as you are a normal person, you will not choose this kind of most dangerous job in the world.

And I love it because I've wanted to be a soldier since I was a kid.

But my background meant that I couldn't play for any country.

Twenty years ago, Kim Il and Black Hawk were friends.

Kim Ri is a big country, while Black Eagle is a slightly backward developing country.

My mother was a nomad on the Black Eagle border, and my father was a merchant on the Black Eagle Silk Road.

The Black Eagle Empire is a country famous for raising black eagles, and only the Black Eagle Empire is suitable for raising a huge black eagle.

This huge black eagle feather is the best material in the world for quills.

My dad was a businessman.

He exchanged the equivalent currency for feathers in the Black Eagle Empire and shipped them back to the Golden Il Empire.

Processed in the Jinri Empire, some flocculent matter can be found after the feather tube is cut. Empty the floc in the feather tube and further sharpen the feather tube with a carving knife.

A groove is drilled with a graver in the middle of the nib to prevent the ink from flowing away when not writing.

Then make a notch with a knife from the groove to the tip of the nib, and the groove and notch allow the ink to flow smoothly to the nib.

The feather tube is filled with fine ink, which flows slowly through the cut notches.

Then the tip of the tube is scratched on the paper to write beautiful words.

This high-grade quill was dumped all over the Jinri Empire by his father's hands.

Even in today's modern era with advanced technology, it is a symbol of luxury for the rich.

And my father also met my mother because of this business, and brought my mother from the nomad to the concrete society.

And gave birth to me, although I don't like these feather businesses at all.

But when my father was most proud, he took out a quill and handed it to the other party to write.

Of course, this business did not last long.

Until wartime it was banned by the state.

The war was waged by the uneven exchange of the national debt of the Golden Il and the Black Eagle Empire, and the developing countries were getting stronger and stronger, and the Golden Empire wanted to suppress them.

As soon as the unequal agreement of the 63 unequal empires of the Golden Ri Empire came out, the friendship between the two was gone.

A war was started, and all ties between the two countries were directly cut off.

The Silk Road has come to an end, and there are corpses everywhere.

Because her mother married into Jinri with her father, she had no choice but to stay in the Jinri Empire.

But my mother has always been concerned about the distant Black Eagle Empire, but she may not be able to see her relatives in this life.

When I was a child, the year after the war began.

My father was imprisoned for the crime of preaching other countries.

The Black Eagle quill pens that my father had hoarded in the warehouse were all looted, and he was sentenced to death because of the huge quantity.

Those quill pens were originally a symbol of luxury.

But after the start of this war, it became a symbol of betrayal.

With the death of his father, almost none of the relatives recognized the mother who belonged to the Black Eagle Empire.

And my mother can only endure humiliation and raise me, and my mother can hardly do anything but housework.

Most of the time I go to other people's homes to work as a hire, and in my spare time, I use goose feathers to make pens.

This is the only craft that my father left to my mother.

And I grew up with other children playing with toys and wearing new clothes.

I could only play with my mother's quills and fall asleep with duck feather pillows.

That smell was a nightmare I've had growing up.

Fortunately, I studied well, maybe it has something to do with these quills.

Because my mother used to tell me that these quills were my father's.

But I really didn't like writing and painting at all, and when I was a child, I decided to join the army.

But when I grew up, I knew that because of the embarrassing identity of my parents, the army of the Jinri Empire would not want me.

And I graduated from college and became a journalist.

When I saw the special profession of war correspondent, I joined the profession almost without hesitation.

The industry, which is already dangerous, allowed me to join with little to no review.

My photographer and I are a team.

Although my mother was always against me doing this work, she would prepare my luggage for me every time I went out.

And instruct me if I meet the nomads of the Black Eagle Empire.

Ask the people with the surname Mojito, and tell them that Ah Die misses them.

But as far as I know, after the war, all the nomads moved into the village and settled.

It's not easy to find, but it's always been on my mind.

Of course, war correspondents are not as dangerous as they seem.

If a war correspondent encounters a war between the two sides, as long as he does not prostrate and wait for the war to end, nothing will happen.

If one side wins the other, it doesn't matter which army the war correspondent is captured by.

As long as they have all the papers, they will be released, because this profession of reporting war is also respected by the people.

The borders of the Black Eagle Empire are endless steppes, which were formerly a paradise for nomads.

Of course, only before.

Yesterday, we boarded the army's supply van and planned to return to the Jinri Empire.

I've got the latest battle report on hand, enough to make headlines.

But when I passed by the border village of the Black Eagle Empire and rested, I heard some soldiers in the army say that there were murderers in the village.

Immediately I was interested, but the photographer didn't dare to accompany me in.

He said he was tired, and that a wartime madman was more terrible than a soldier.

Actually, my biggest goal is not to shoot, but to go to the village to fulfill my mother's wish.

See if there are any clansmen surnamed Mojito in the village, and bring your mother's thoughts.

I had no choice but to leave my bag and make an agreement with the cameraman to return an hour later.

Carrying the camera, he walked in single-handedly.

It was all scenery along the way, but I had no intention of appreciating it.

This is almost a village and town with grassland hard reform, and the houses are all temporary board houses.

When I arrived in the village, there was not a single person in the daylight. It is estimated that the villagers are afraid of the murderer and hiding.

In this kind of wartime, the army does not even have time to confront the enemy country.

Not to mention that the army took the time to help the villagers deal with this kind of murderous rebellion, of course, because of the war. The riots became natural and insignificant.

Just as I was disappointed and about to return to the camp to leave, I noticed two figures around the corner.

One stood there in a panic, while the other was holding a dagger with a hideous expression.

I think he's a murderer.

The panicked man staggered backwards, tripped and fell heavily to the ground.

The man with the dagger glanced at me as he was about to pounce on me, turned and fled in the other direction.

I started screaming and chased after me, the shaky camera blurry.

My first instinct was to save people, but it would have been more effective if I had been able to hold down the homicidal maniac.

I thought I could have gone faster without a camera.

That is until I threw away the camera in the next corner and pounced on it quickly.

The murderer with the dagger was pressed by me, struggling under my crotch.

I snatched his dagger and killed him.

I think the murderer was killed by me ...

I walked to the side and just picked up the camera to save the video.

A group of villagers also arrived.

I waved my hand to explain what was going on, but I was knocked to the ground on the spot.

I hurriedly tried to explain everything, and by the way, I thought that I would become a hero of this village.

Ask again if there are any people with the surname Mojito in this village.

But before I could say a few words, he was crushed into the local prison along with the person who had just fallen to the ground.

The crime is accomplice, and the evidence is the camera in my hand.

It turned out that the camera was able to capture some corpses hidden in the grass, corners, and corners along the way.

But I thought about my mother's wishes, and I didn't have the heart to wait and see.

And the panicked man was none other than a murderer, who had his dagger snatched away when he killed the last lone man in the village.

The homicidal maniac's mind was not normal, when he saw me chasing him and helping him kill the last lone villager.

He thought of me as a dangerous person like him, and he talked about it.

And as he confessed, I really killed a helpless villager.

And the murderer also affectionately called me a partner when recording a confession, hoping to meet me in prison.

And my claim to be a journalist and another story is completely impossible to trust because of my status as a Kim Ri empire.

The most important press card was also in the bag, which was handed over to the photographer for safekeeping.

The only thing I could do was a camera, not even a pen or a piece of paper.

And the camera can also be a practical tool to show your perversion on the Internet after killing someone.

As for the supply truck and the photographer, they had already left because the one-hour time limit had expired and they could no longer wait for the verdict that I had been killed.

The camera clearly recorded my pursuit of a refugee, which was broadcast on the local TV station of the Black Eagle Empire.

At the same time, in the Kim Il Empire, the TV station was showing the war report brought back from the front line, which I hosted.

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