It's close to noon, and the locals stay in shady houses at this time, and there are few pedestrians on the streets of the town, and the alleys are even more deserted, as quiet as if no one is in a no-man's land.

It's not like the crowded big cities in Europe, it's just a simple seaside fishing town, and although it covers a wide area, it's really difficult to find a place to hide here.

In places like Paris or Marseille, you can find an apartment building in a residential area and hide in a stairwell for a while, but in this North African town, the streets are lined with high courtyard walls, most of them are single-door bungalows, and the street plan is in the Turkish style, and the direction is all smooth and straight, that is, from the street to the end of the alley, you can see it at a glance.

Julian, a stranger who was completely unfamiliar with his life, ran wildly down the alley for a long time, trying to get rid of his imaginary pursuers, but after a few turns in a row, he finally completely dizzy.

The French found a shady corner to rest, and the owner of the house next to it, perhaps a fisherman or a seafood trader, leaned against the courtyard wall with a pile of wicker baskets stacked high, emitting a pungent fishy smell.

Running fast in such temperatures was an extremely painful affair even for those who were trained in the field, and the Frenchman now felt that he might be dying, and the exertional exercise caused his body temperature to rise rapidly, and the dehydration and the profuse of adrenaline added a heavy burden to his heart.

Julian sat on the ground with his back against the courtyard wall, his mouth gasping like a fish thrown to shore, his heart was beating wildly, the diaphragm under his ribs was painful as if it had been cut by a knife, and no matter how hard he tried to breathe, he still felt breathless.

The Frenchman struggled to dig out a delicate sheepskin water bag from his coat. Nice brought it all the way with the sour goat's milk that I bought from the locals yesterday, a natural energy supplement that provides the fat and protein the body needs for exercise while replenishing water.

Roughly pulling out the cork from the mouth of the bag, Julian raised his head impatiently and poured a mouthful of yogurt, and then was not surprised to choke, and the Frenchman coughed violently and sprayed himself with white yogurt.

"Hey, friend." Suddenly, an Arabic greeting came from the other end of the wicker basket.

The Frenchman, who had already been in the army, was really frightened, and in order to avoid unnecessary trouble, this time he did not carry a weapon with him, so when he was at a loss, he picked up half of the brick in the corner.

"Who's there?" Julian, who had learned a lot of the local language from Abdul, asked with trepidation, holding the brick.

"Don't be nervous, we're friends." A face with a scarf peeked out from behind the wicker basket, in French that Julian was familiar with.

"Who are you?" The French were still in shock and suspicious of anything.

"You don't need to know who I am, Mr. Julian, you just need to know that I have no ill will towards you. Come with me now, and I'll take you to a safe place to hide. Once there, all your questions will be answered. The masked man replied.

"I advise you to throw that thing away in your hand, we don't have much time, and the Italians will soon launch a city-wide search." The masked man made a follow-up gesture to Julian, and without waiting for the other party to agree, he turned around and ran briskly towards the other end of the alley.

When the French reach such a time, is there a second choice, Julian struggled to stand up, struggling to catch up with the masked man, at this time he could only pray that the other party's previous words were true, this person really wanted to help him.

"That place isn't very far from here, we didn't expect you to turn in this direction." The masked man slowed down and turned to Julian.

"I noticed you're talking about us?" Julian said breathlessly.

"Yes, me and my comrades, a group of like-minded companions," the masked man replied proudly.

The two men walked briskly through the alley, and Julien did not know how many turns he had made with each other, until he finally came to a house where the French noticed that the walls were much higher than those of their neighbors. The masked man ran to the corner and poked his head out to look left and right.

"Alright, get in from here." The masked man lifted a wooden board from the side of the courtyard wall, revealing a small door in the wall with a metal fence carved with elaborate patterns.

"Is this a dog hole?" Julian was a little resistant.

"No, it's just a vent for the yard." The masked man forcefully removed the metal fence.

"Don't hesitate, we don't have much time."

"Okay." What could the French have hoped for at this point, and he stooped down and crawled quickly over the hole.

"Welcome, Mr. Julian." There were already people in the courtyard waiting for his arrival, and when they saw the Frenchman appear, they immediately greeted him warmly.

It was a middle-aged man in a brown silk robe, with a beautifully trimmed beard on his chin, a snow-white Arabic turban wrapped around his head, and a gold silk girdle around his waist, and a Persian dagger embedded in the loincloth, inlaid with large gems, dazzling in the midday sun.

The character, who seemed to have come out of a story of the Thousand and One Nights, did not seem to care at all about the blood stains on Julian's head and body, and he stepped forward and hugged the Frenchman, and kissed Julian on the face passionately.

"I'm Said. Root. Nabhani, you can call me Nabhani. Mr. Julian, my dear friend. Nabhani spoke fluent French, and though he let go of Julian, he still held his hand tightly.

"You were frightened by what just happened, and I apologize to you for the reckless behavior of those friends of mine."

Nabhani led Julian to the bottom of a pergola in the corner of the courtyard, where a fine woollen carpet was laid on the ground, and in the middle lay a low, intricately carved table, on which were placed sumptuous food and fruits. The French were at this point in complete confusion and could only be at the mercy of this enthusiastic somewhat over-the-top host.

"Go and fetch some water, let Mr. Julian wash it, and go get a clean robe and turban." Nabhani commanded the servant who was standing by.

"Please be seated, Mr. Julian, you should be thirsty, I have a refreshing milk tea here." The Arabs greeted them warmly.

"Wait a minute, this... I am grateful to your friend for bringing me here, Mr. Nabhani, and for being so warm to me. I wonder what exactly this is for, I'm sure I've never seen you and your companions before. Who exactly are you, why are you helping me, and where did you get my name, these questions are important to me, and I hope you can tell me the answers now. Julian came to his senses at this point, and he asked the other man his question aloud.

"Naizal didn't tell you just now?"

"Nope..."

"Well, that's in line with his temperament."

Nabhani sat hunched over the carpet, picked up a fine teapot, and poured milk tea into a silver bowl.

"We are [Huyldin], an organization dedicated to overthrowing the evil colonial rule of the Italians. Maybe you've never heard of us before, but trust me, Italians will soon be shaking under the name. The Arab stroked his pretty beard and handed the milk tea to Julian.

"Thank you, Mr. Nabhani." Julian took the silver bowl and took a slight sip, immediately conquered by the sweet and fragrant taste.

"I'm glad you like this, don't worry, there's a lot more here." Nabhani said with a smile on his face.

"You haven't told me how you know my name and why you came to help me. Was it your people who shot just now? Julian asked eagerly with a bowl of tea.

"Your superiors have been in contact with us for a long time, and have provided us with a lot of help before, and this time it's time for us to return the favor, in fact, when you have just set foot on Libyan soil, you are already under our protection.

This incident was an accident, these gendarmes had never been out into the streets at this time before, but luckily our soldiers intervened in time to save you from falling into the hands of those evil colonists. Nabhani reclined on the soft cushions, smiling and answering the Frenchman's questions.

PS: I'm sorry.,The number of words updated in this chapter today is a little small.,I'll compensate you with a big chapter later.。

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