Sea breeze, gentle sea breeze, fresh sea breeze, natural sea breeze......

This is good. Nguyen Phuc Tho, www.biquge.info pen "Fun", said to himself, by the way, he unloaded the drum that had already been emptied from the submachine gun. Then, as he reached into the pocket of his trench coat and felt for a new drum, he said that if the wind could be a little stronger, it would remove all the disgusting smell from the air.

"You have to understand," he continued, in a voice so low that only the man in police uniform lying next to his right foot could hear clearly, "and the smell I smelled made me very sick, as if there was a bug wriggling and wriggling in my stomach and it seemed like it would never stop......"

Nguyen Phuc Tho began to repeat the worm wriggling in his stomach, over and over again, endlessly, hoping that his audience would offer a little comfort, but the listener in police uniform said not a word - in fact, he was lying on the beach, his face pressed against the sand, and half of his body was soaked in the seawater, looking dead.

Theoretically, he must have been dead, like the other thirty-two Japanese in police, military uniforms, or ronin costumes: five minutes earlier, these guys had popped up and thought that with one pistol, nineteen rifles, and thirteen katanas, they could stop the arms deal in which he was involved, and they had taken all the prisoners to prison, only to be killed by the prepared gunmen in less than a minute, and none of them had escaped.

Thirty-three Japanese, shot for at least thirty seconds by three automatic rifles and twelve submachine guns, were now lying on the beach, motionless, unable to hear moans or breathing, and should have died.

However, Nguyen Phuc Tho does not think so for the time being. A few years ago, when he was still serving in the Vietnamese army, he once commanded a unit to cooperate with American mercenaries to eliminate the resistance of Hoang Hua Tan, and it was at that time that whenever the Yankees drank too much, they would tell him many rules of conduct that could help him save his life on the battlefield, and one of them was to never easily believe that your enemy is dead.

Vigilance must be maintained. Nguyen Phuc Tho loaded the new drum, pulled the bolt handle backwards, and released his hand. The Yankees said that if you see an enemy on the battlefield who has fallen to the ground, don't rush to get close or pass through him, but look carefully, from a position where his weapon is not easy to reach, such as behind, slowly approach, and then quickly kick his weapon aside, and finally check if he is still alive - if he is still alive, give him a shot in the head to make sure he is really dead - because only a dead enemy is a good enemy.

Of course, this is the general operating procedure, the standard procedure, which is usually used in more formal combat, but there is also a simpler one: if you see an enemy who has fallen to the ground, it doesn't matter if he is dead or alive, just put a bullet into his head. That way, even if he was a monster called Zombie, he wouldn't be able to get up and bite people again.

That's it, very simple work, just a little bit, huh......

"Actually, you know and I know that the two of us have no personal grudges, I don't like you but I don't hate you, let alone hate you. It's just ......" Ruan Phuc Shou shook his head and let out a long sigh, "...... Man, all I can say is I'm so sorry, but business is business. If you receive money from others, you must eliminate disasters for others. ”

Yes, if you take someone else's money, you have to do what someone else tells you to do well. Ruan Phuc Shou thought with emotion. He once made this mistake of getting paid but cheating and making excuses to avoid trouble, which made his boss and his boss's boss so angry that he lost his first job.

Actually, he loved the job. Most of the time it's easy, but the pay is pretty good, there are more than a hundred people to command, and it's feared and flattered by the people, making it a great job. What's more, such jobs are generally hard to find, there are few vacancies, but there are many people competing, and if you want to win, you have to rely on relationships, money, and sometimes a little luck...... In short, things are very troublesome.

It's a shame to throw it away.

"I'm not going to make the same mistake twice in a row -- I don't think anyone is going to make the same mistake twice in a row." Nguyen Phuc Tho finally muttered, pointed the gun at the policeman lying motionless on the ground, paused for a few seconds, and then moved his index finger slightly.

"Da ~~", now he is really dead.

"I've solved it on my side."

"I've solved it a long time ago." Someone shouted with a laugh.

"I'm done now." A voice called, accompanied by a short shot from an automatic rifle.

"Add me a ......"

"I've solved it here." One by one, Nguyen Phuc Tho heard his companion announce in a loud voice that their mission was complete, and then, a voice floated from somewhere a little farther away, and the dull sound of gunshots, "bang", "bang", "bang...... Two "anaconda" pistols, twelve in a row, then twelve more. He didn't know which people's brains the twenty-four bullets had gotten into, or whose heads, or bodies, had gotten into them. If it was the first outcome, the scene would have been very ......

Disgusting. He couldn't think of a word other than that to describe the scene.

Of course, this kind of thing that guy did. Nguyen Phuc Tho remembered that the owner of the voice, a Mexican who had escaped from San Francisco Prison and was said to have been a former bandit of a certain gang who followed a boss called "Machete" around robbing and killing people - he was a hazard, but not the only one in the group, and an American, known as "Red Neck", who liked to use automatic rifles and daggers, and spent his days boasting and claiming to reproduce the "great deeds" of his great-grandfather, grandfather and father: hunting Indians and scalping them off……

He didn't just claim to do it - as soon as Nguyen Phuc Tho turned around, he saw the American put a bloody piece of what was clearly a human scalp into his backpack, and then, under the gaze of almost everyone, casually wiped the blood from the dagger, put it in the scabbard, and finally raised his right hand to the leader. "I'm done."

"I hate this guy." Ruan Phuc Shou heard the team leader complaining in a low voice, nodded, and said approvingly: "I don't like him either." ”

"I'm the same." A third voice interjected. The two of them turned their heads at the same time and saw that the top person in charge of the operation, a Filipino Chinese surnamed Huang, with a nickname called "Liang Zai", was said to be a member of a certain church in Hongmen, looking at them with a disgusting expression that he was about to vomit out yesterday's dinner. "That guy, and that Mexican. You see, the things they do......"

"You shouldn't hire them." Nguyen Phuc Tho said.

"I didn't hire them," Pretty Boy said, pointing to the leader, "You guys were all ...... he gathered."

"Don't look at me." The team leader defended himself, "I just gathered people according to the list of big bosses, and I don't know anyone except Nguyen Phuc Tho. ”

"You know me?" Nguyen Phuc Tho was a little surprised.

"We all worked in the Vietnamese army, and we all commanded troops to cooperate with the American army to clear out the resistance of the Hoang Hua Tan." The team leader replied, "Of course you are much more famous than me. ”

That's not a good thing. Nguyen Phuc Tho's mood suddenly became depressed: the slogan "Vietnamese do not fight Vietnamese" was openly shouted, and half of the soldiers of the troops under his command participated in the rebellion, it must be said that this "fame" was a complete tragedy no matter who it put on him.

"I'd rather not have that kind of fame." He complained in a low voice, then looked up and asked, "So, who is the big boss?" ”

"I don't know. I have not met him, I have not heard his name, I have not even met his men, until now we have only been in contact by letter. The team leader spread his hands, "Honestly, I want to know more than you who paid to hire us. ”

Nguyen Phuc Tho was skeptical of his explanation: he was the head of all the gunmen, and there was no reason why he would not know the identity of the boss behind the scenes. However, this was only a guess after all, and no evidence could be found to prove it, so Nguyen Phuc Tho had to put his spirit in a more important place.

"What do we do now?" He said worriedly, "The gunfire just now will definitely attract the Japanese troops nearby." ”

"There are no Japanese troops nearby." "Liang Zai" affirmed, "The nearest Japanese army is also twenty miles away. So we chose this place as the delivery location. ”

"But what about the people we killed?" The team leader asked.

"Maybe they got some news...... But no matter how you look at it, it's very strange. "Ten Japanese policemen and twenty Japanese soldiers, and three ronin, if the Japanese really knew about the deal, they wouldn't have sent just such a few people to die." ”

"It's weird." Nguyen Phuc Tho said.

"It's really weird." The leader continued, "But I suggest that we give the arms to the Formosa rebels now, and then get out of here." ”

"I agree." "Pretty Boy" nodded, "Gather your people, and I'll complete the deal." With that, he left the leader and Nguyen Phuc Tho and walked to a small group of people a few dozen meters away—members of the Formosa Resistance who had come to collect the arms. They gathered around the arms that were about to be handed over to them, each with an ugly face, and a few of them had signs of vomiting on their lips - no doubt they were very uncomfortable by what had just happened.

But it was not only them who felt uncomfortable - two Japanese spies hiding in the grass felt the same way at a distance of perhaps a thousand yards from the place of delivery, and in addition to the discomfort, the two spies sent by Kuroshima to observe the transaction felt a strong anger, an irrepressible impulse, and an aggressive mentality enough to destroy everything - not even the guards of the United Textile Technology Company had treated the samurai of the Japanese Empire so cruelly.

"What a bastard!" The spy's right hand on the left was clenched into a fist and slammed the ground hard, "That white ghost beast actually scalped people......

"Barbarians." The spy on the right was visibly calmer, "Sooner or later, we'll settle this account back." ”

"Takada-kun, let's go and find the nearby garrisons and annihilate these ghost beasts in one fell swoop!" The spy on the left suggests to.

"Calm down, Kojima-kun." The spy named Takada lowered his binoculars and stared at his colleague who was about to lose control with a very serious face, "Our mission is to monitor this arms deal and find out who is actually providing arms support to the resistance forces here......"

"Arrest all these people, won't things be figured out!"

"That's impossible, these people are probably cannon fodder found temporarily, and it's impossible to know who is behind the scenes!"

"How do you know?"

"Because ......" Takada stopped—he didn't want to tell Kojima what he knew, some information that only an old bird of the secret service could get from the head of the Kuroshima agency: the head of the Kurosa agency believed that the black hand who supplied arms to the Formosa Resistance was the famous Michina, Qin Lang, but he had no evidence, so he hoped to catch the evidence—he hoped that the staff of the Umbrella company could be found at the transaction site. However, now, according to his observations, there were obviously no Qin Lang's subordinates among the prisoners who were engaged in the arms deal.

Though. Takada admitted. Although he didn't know Qin Lang's subordinates, he didn't know which people were his subordinates, and there were no inscriptions on their faces and foreheads, but he was sure that these people in front of him were not Umbrella's people: their reaction and shooting level were not like Umbrella's mercenaries, nor like the security guards of United Textile Technology Company, two of them acted as if they had been trained by the French army, but the others knew at a glance that they were not trained, and they naturally behaved like a group of gangsters when they started shooting.

"Their performance was quite amateurish," he felt he could explain now, "Qin Lang's mercenaries have been rigorously trained, know how to cooperate, know how to cover each other, are good at organizing crossfire, and shoot quite rhythmically. But now these armed men, do you see them cooperating? ”

"Nope." Kojima reluctantly admitted.

"So they are definitely not Qin Lang's subordinates, just a group of cannon fodder that can be consumed at will, even if we arrest them all, we won't be able to ask for anything valuable." "On the contrary, if we arrest them, it will only surprise the mastermind that his plot has been exposed, and then he will revise the plan and cut off all the clues we have -- which is not what the director needs." The people of China often say that you have to put a long line in order to catch big fish......"

"But could it be that the soldiers and policemen of the Empire died in such a senseless vain?" Kojima thought he couldn't accept this kind of thing, "Takada-kun, don't forget that we brought them here to die. ”

"That's a sacrifice, not a death in vain. Kojima-kun, the great cause of the empire requires sacrifice," Kuroshima always said, "All we can do is make their sacrifices worthwhile......" Takada put away the binoculars - the deal was over, and the armed men transporting the arms boarded the dinghy one after another, ready to return to the transport ship moored in the distance - grabbed Kojima's left hand, "Now, we should leave." (To be continued, if you want to know what will happen next, please log in to the www.qidian.com, more chapters, support the author, support genuine reading!) (To be continued.) )