Through the wilted vine, the scrivener found the muzzle of a black hole, which was originally used for camouflage and was wrapped around the barrel of the gun. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info due to sun exposure, the vines lose their moisture and gradually wither.

The scrivener was positioned, slowly adjusting his breathing, and making the final preparations before shooting. He knew in his heart that this was a dead end, and once he couldn't kill the opponent, he would be exposed, and he would attract a deadly counterattack. Although he has the upper hand, it is by no means a winning situation.

The scrivener is aimed at the barrel slightly to the left, where the sniper's head is likely to be. This is a habit of people when shooting, accustomed to putting the gun on the right shoulder, which is naturally the left side for the scrivener.

However, there are exceptions, and if the opponent is left-handed or for some other reason, this judgment is likely to be wrong. Then this shot has the potential to be empty. Needless to say, the result of emptying the gun is bound to be death......

At this time, the bookcase changed attention again, and the muzzle of the gun was slightly lowered, which should be the part of the opponent's chest. The probability of hitting the chest is much higher than that of hitting the head.

A bullet erupted through the green waterfall, creating an almost straight trajectory between the two peaks. This is a bullet that gambles on his life, and the moment he pulls the trigger, the scrivener hands over his life to God, and the life of Polgar to God......

The warhead penetrates the green screen of the opposite mountain and burrows in. A blood mist erupted in the dense green, splashing on the leaves to stand out. A person instantly rolls from the dense green, and then rolls down again, until he falls into the endless abyss.

The heart hanging in the scrivener box finally put down, and he stretched out his thumb to Polgar, if it wasn't for the other party to find the abnormality from the subtleties, it would be impossible to hunt the opponent. Polgar also stretched out his thumb to the scrivener, and she admired the old generation's marksmanship and prediction ability, which was worthy of the elite of the Chinese military.

The danger is gone, and the next step is to go up the mountain.

Bang, beep...... Sporadic gunfire can be heard from the top of the mountain, and in fact the gunfire on the mountain has been intermittent since the heavy rain has passed, and has never stopped. It's just that the scrivener and Polgar are too focused on the enemy in front of them and ignore the gunfire.

Apparently some of his men had climbed to the top of the mountain and were fighting the enemy. As the captain and vice captain, it is the responsibility of the two to go up for reinforcements.

Polgar leaned back against the mountain behind him, the signs of heat stroke attacking. The crisis just now was completely supported by a breath of energy, but now that the danger is lifted, people have collapsed.

The scrivener was finally able to act with confidence, took out the kettle in the package, and filled Polgar with a few sips of water. Polgar was hot, the wound showed no signs of healing in the highly tense environment of his body, and the blood stained the gauze red, seeping out along the gauze.

The scrivener hugged Polgar and put her in a relatively comfortable position. Gently untied the gauze, and sure enough, the wound showed no signs of healing, and dark red blood was gurgling out. He took out the knife wound medicine and reapplied it to the wound. Apparently it was a knife wound, the work of a narrow, ninja-killer saber. The wound may not seem deep, but it is still deep enough at the beginning of the wound to reach the bone.

Apply the medicine and re-wrap the wound with gauze. At this time, Polgar was already in a mild coma.

The scrivener took out the kettle again, poured some water on her, and wiped it slowly, trying to cool down.

As the sun sets, the sky slowly darkens and the heat slowly dissipates. Polgar gradually regained consciousness. Now it was impossible to go up the mountain, so the scrivener decided to rest for half the night and wait for Polgar to recover. In fact, he is also very tired, since the ambush of the Japanese military vehicle to the present, the old generation has not rested for a minute, and the energy consumption is extremely huge.

Polgar pulled out two tiny bottles from his backpack, they were too small, smaller than a human finger. She handed a scrivener and said in a faint voice, "Drink it." ”

The scrivener took the bottle and looked at it, it was very similar to the small bottle of medicine, it was a clear liquid, and the amount was very small, not enough to sneeze. He looked at it for a long time and didn't see why.

Polgar opened the cap and drank his own bottle. Then continue to close your eyes and recuperate.

Seeing this, the scrivener no longer hesitated, opened the lid and drank it. The first feeling is sweet, like sugar water, and the second feeling is that it is not enjoyable, the amount is too small, and it is enjoyable to drink a kettle directly. He didn't know that there was something called "glucose" in the world, and he didn't know that it could replenish energy. He was even less aware of the astonishing fact that a drop of glucose produced by the military was worth a loaf of bread.

Polgar fell asleep and her body temperature was dropping, which was a good sign. The scrivener was also drowsy, and the mental consumption of this day and night was very large, so I had to close my eyes and take a nap.

Time flies very quickly when people are resting, and it is night in the blink of an eye. The mountainside is not as good as the valley, and there is still some wind in the high places, and the breeze blows, which is indescribably cool.

The scrivener leaned out of the vines, the wind outside was stronger, and every hair on his body was stretched out, which was extremely refreshing. There are stars in the sky overhead, there is no moonlight, it should be the beginning or end of the lunar month. After coming to India for so long, the scrivener box has less and less concept of time, and the calendar of Westerners is different from that of Chinese, and the scrivener box is very awkward. I don't really care about the days, I just know that spring is gone and summer is coming.

There were still sporadic gunshots echoing in the mountains, very fragmented, sometimes not a single shot in half an hour, sometimes two shots in a quarter of an hour. The battle on the hill continued, only entering the phase of the dark battle.

Polgar also crawled out of the vine and put on his shirt at some point.

"It's time for us to continue." Polgar said.

The scrivener opened the way in front, Polgar in the back, and the two walked up the plank road.

The moonless night is pitch black, the dilapidated plank path is buried with unpredictable dangers, and the log railings in many places have rotted and destroyed, and people can be planted off cliffs if they are not careful. Walking the boardwalk at night is really not a wise choice. Of course, it is even more unwise to walk during the day.

The road from here to the top of the mountain is not long, two or three hundred meters to the end of the plank road, there is a section of artificially dug stone road, and then the top of the mountain.

Polgar tugged at the corner of his scrivener, signaling him to be careful, it was here that she was ambushed, and she was hit hard below her collarbone.

The scrivener stopped, quietly savoring the movement around him. Just like when I was a child, I went hunting with my grandfather in the mountains, and night fishing often brought unexpected gains. It was at that time that he developed an extremely keen sense, and even developed an inexplicable sixth sense.