At sunset, Pullman stood quietly on the hill, his armor still stained with dried blood, a large sword stuck beside him, the blade of the sword was knocked out in many places, and the strips of cloth wrapped around the hilt of the sword were badly worn, and many of them had been dyed dark red.

On the wilderness near the setting sun, scattered weapons, broken gun barrels, burning flags, and twisted corpses formed a bleak picture.

The rebels, dressed in white turbans, searched the battlefield one by one, and if they found anyone alive, they quickly lifted them on stretchers and sent them to the medical post in the rear, whether they were their comrades or former enemies, every life was precious.

"Brother Pullman, did we win?" A young man lying on a stretcher asked weakly, his upper body covered in bandages and one arm shrugged.

"Yes, we won." Pullman took his other intact hand, his words full of exclamation.

"Good.... That's nice. The young man looked at the blue-purple sky and muttered to himself.

"We are one step closer to our dream."

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Continental South, Velga Business Alliance, Hopland.

After Loren Hill dealt with the Chamber of Commerce, he recently ushered in a rare moment of rest.

At this time, she sat alone in a small courtyard behind the mansion, which was not large, and there was a small pear tree in the middle.

The small courtyard was very quiet, and the chirping of small birds could be heard, and occasionally a few flew down from the eaves, landed on the grass, walked back and forth, pecked and looked, and then flew away again.

The girl wore a white dress and sat on a wooden chair with a backrest, just under the eaves of the courtyard, beside several stone pillars, and some green moss spread from the grass in the courtyard to the gaps in the steps.

At this moment, she had a small bamboo basket in her arms, and inside was a small half-basket of green pea pods. Fingernails hold down the corners of the pods, pinch off and pull open a green fiber, and a few sparkling wet beans emerge from the pods, followed by the faint fragrance of the plant.

With a flick of his fingers, a few emerald green peas roll down into the white palm, the peas are placed in the porcelain bowl on the right, and the torn pods are placed in another bamboo basket on the ground on the left.

Lorain Hill quietly peeled the pods, a few strands of golden hair scattered on his chest, occasionally the wind blew, the birds chirped and flew away in the wind, and the shadows of the branches and leaves of the pear trees swayed gently in the courtyard.

These days, it has been a maid who serves her life, and at first it was a little new, but after a long time, she wanted to do something on her own.

As she sat on a wooden chair peeling pods, Loren Hill slowly recalled some of the past, when she was a child, she would go to her grandmother's house to play every winter and summer vacation, and unlike her own family in the depressed city, her grandfather lived in the mountains.

Whenever it rains, she can clearly hear the sound of raindrops hitting the green tiles, and she likes to live at her grandmother's house. Because there will be no one here to urge her to study, and there will be no one who stares at her fiercely every day. Grandpa likes her very much and doesn't give her any constraints, she can do what she wants.

Whether it's reading a novel under a tree on a hillside, going fishing in the river, roasting corn in the drying field, squatting in the field digging peanuts, or hiding in the house and playing games for the day. Grandparents and grandparents won't talk about her, as long as they eat on time.

On summer nights, she would lie on a bamboo recliner, watching the Milky Way stars and moon in the sky, and her grandmother would tell some magical stories, such as the wild man who ate children in the mountains.

By the way, she also saw fireflies, it was when she was 6 years old, and the fireflies flying all over the mountains flashed and flashed. She once wanted to learn from the ancients to catch a few fireflies and put them in a transparent plastic bag, and then use them to read a book at night.

Unfortunately, the stories are all deceitful, and the light of the fireflies is too faint to be seen clearly, unless hundreds of them gather together.

As I grew older, I didn't know why, and there were fewer and fewer fireflies in the mountains, and I didn't see them again after the age of 10.

As the days went by, she liked to cook something by herself.

In the beginning, it was just roasted sweet potatoes, roasted peanuts, roasted corn, baked potatoes and stuff.

Later, I learned to use the crucian carp caught in the pond to cook soup, she was not very good at chopping vegetables, and her grandmother was afraid that she would cut her hands and did not let her touch the knife, so the fish were handled by her grandfather first, and she was watching from the side, and she squatted with a flower cat in her hometown.

Don't let you cut and fry, then cook something, boiled corn is really delicious, and then potatoes are also good, once in a while to cook beans, so that she thinks it's also good.

As the peas slowly finished peeling, their thoughts slowly retracted.

The originally empty porcelain bowl slowly accumulated from the first few peas, slowly increasing little by little, and finally filled the white porcelain bowl, the girl looked at it, and a faint sense of satisfaction floated in her heart.

She picked up the white porcelain bowl full of peas in both hands and went to the small kitchen next to it. It's a small room she'd had Chelsea clean up and only she'd be the one to cook something to eat.

The emerald green beans are poured into a clay pot, then a scoop of water is scooped out of the water tank, poured into it, and gently rubbed it, and then the fingers swirl and stir in the clay pot to bring up a small whirlpool. At this time, the fingers stopped, and then they rotated in the opposite direction mischievously, setting off a wave of clear waves.

After going back and forth like this a few times, tilt the clay pot and hold the round beans inside with one hand like a small embankment, and slowly let the water drain out.

With the rubbing of the flint, a few dried dead grasses are lit, a deep clay pot is put on it, clear water is poured in, then the peeled beans are covered, a few firewood are re-added, and the flames slowly rise from the dead branches and lick the bottom of the pot.

Lorain Hill brought a chair and sat quietly by the fire, the sound of crackling wood burning, the orange flame reflected in her pupils, and she was slightly stunned.

When people are alone, they think, they think about many things, the present, the past, and the future.

It's been a long time since she came to this world, without her past relatives, friends and familiar faces, now she is no longer bound by anything, and what kind of road will she embark on in the future.

Contrary to the history recorded by later generations and the inference of experts, the great sage who sent ten starlight and saved the world from the brink of shattering ten times, Lorain Hill, in the Third Age, in 1684, when the iron spear was treadmilled, did not have any ambitions, at this time she was just thinking about living a quiet and simple life, nothing more than an ordinary life.