There was no real change in the expression.

Grinning at the corners of his mouth, he still smiled indifferently, and Morgan gently stroked the tattoo on his back with one hand.

He was frank and dismissive, compared to the memory just now, the physical trauma was simply pediatric.

He didn't know how the original owner escaped from the clutches of the "Celestial Dragons", and his memories during this period did not come back to him.

More blood is oozing from the wound, and if the arm continues to be forcibly stretched back, the wound that has just been treated will inevitably crack open and cause a blood collapse.

"The origin of this tattoo is not an interesting thing, so I don't want to mention it."

"But I have a tattoo, but I'm a good person."

Morgan continued to add in order to dispel the other party's doubts and avoid causing unnecessary trouble.

He didn't want to be treated as a bad guy because of his tattoo and be arrested to the government because he had just been rescued.

From memory, I know that although there are quite a lot of countries in this world, there is only one government officer and soldier agency, and the identity of their Celestial Dragon slaves is sensitive and special, and the military institutions serve them, so it is not good to fall into their hands.

"Do you want to kill your mouth?"

Thinking of this, another thought popped up in Morgan's heart.

The truth of being a man in his previous life taught him to sail carefully on the ship of ten thousand years.

Although the other party is only a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy, he doesn't know the origin of the tattoo at all, but he can't help him go out and talk nonsense, in case he leaks his mouth and is listened to by other people who have a heart!

"Forget it, forget it."

"What has become me after decades of officialdom, where is the hot-blooded special warfare soldier who was once a year old and full of dreams for the future?"

Morgan was shocked by the idea that came to him in the first place.

Not to mention that the other party saved his life, even if he was really caught, at best, he would go back to be a slave, as for En, will he take revenge?

While Gawain was still bandaging the wound, Morgan quietly put away the sharp knife he had just used to remove the flesh and pressed it under his leg.

He won't take the other party's life, but he can't be without security at all.

Gao Wen, who didn't know Morgan's inner thoughts, tied the last bit of bandage in a bow with satisfaction, and patted the other party's shoulder and said:

"The wound will heal quickly.

"The firewood is running out, I'll chop some and come back, don't move around here."

Morgan smiled apologetically for causing you trouble, and slowly closed his eyes after the other party put on a leather coat and went out.

He did feel sorry for wanting to kill the other party just now.

The sound of creaking footsteps in the snow outside the door faded away, and the boy probably walked away.

Do you want to leave now?

Morgan was thinking.

As you can see through the crack in the door, there is a completely unfamiliar cold movement covered in snow, and with this body, the survival rate is almost zero!

But if he doesn't go, everything can only be left to Providence, and he doesn't like this feeling of not being able to control his life and death.

About an hour later, Morgan woke up to the sound of footsteps outside the door.

Lighter than Gawain's footsteps!

He went to fetch firewood, and if he came back, he would definitely be carrying more weight than the footsteps when he walked!

Could it be that he saw through his identity and called someone? Everything just now was acting?

No way!

He believes that he can never be wrong in looking at people.

Morgan narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing at the door.

After about four or five seconds, the wooden door was kicked open!

A tall, thin man in a coarse linen coat and a red turban was in the doorway.

When he saw Morgan lying weak on the bed, he grinned with yellow teeth.

The cracked corners of his mouth tugged at the scars of the tall and thin man's eyes, which looked particularly hideous.

In an instant, memories of this man entered Morgan's mind.

This is one of the sailors of a group of pirates who specialize in the slave trade, and Morgan is driven to nearly die by them.

He originally escaped the clutches of the Celestial Dragons, and fled incognito all the way to the legendary strongest sea, the East Sea, but he was still targeted by the other party.

If it hadn't been for a huge storm, he might have been caught as a pet again.

Morgan tilted his head, his eyes wide open in fear, and his mouth trembled and he couldn't speak.

The career in his previous life has made his psychological quality extremely strong, and he can be calm as usual even if the knife stand is in front of him, of course, he is no longer the original Morgan, and he is just cooperating with acting at this time.

The red-turbaned sailor licked his lips, and when he saw the other man's appearance, he relaxed his guard and walked into the house with a scimitar.

"You damn beast made it easy for us to find, and almost cost the captain tens of millions of Bailey!"

After recovering his memory, Morgan understood his situation, he was one of the most expensive slaves, and only another woman could match him in the underground wanted warrant issued by the Draconians.

"It's good that your little face isn't injured, otherwise I don't know if Lord Torrepol would have received the goods."

The red turban ravaged his face with impunity, treating him like a brute.

Morgan did not resist, licked his chapped lips, and pleaded in a hoarse voice:

"My lord, I'm a defenseless wasted man now, can you give me some water, I'm dying of thirst, and you don't want me to die."

After the red turban vented his anger, he didn't look like a fake, and the thin arm that could be broken by him with one exposed hand was indeed not enough to threaten.

After scolding, he poured a glass of water from the stove and brought it over.

As Morgan said, if he dies, it will be of no use to them, and all the efforts of so many days will be in vain, just drink this glass of water, and when he carries the man back to the ship, he will get the captain's praise and millions of Baileys!

The red turban counted as she handed him the water.

Morgan lay down trying to do it, and the blood on his chest oozed out again.

He frowned, and his face turned a little pale! I tried several times, but the water didn't come up.

"You feed me." Morgan prayed.

Red Turban impatiently handed the cup to Morgan's lips.

"Hot, hot!"

Morgan coughed vigorously a few times, rolling his eyes and almost losing his breath.

The red turban was at a loss for what to do, he usually only cut people, when did he do the work of serving people.

His chest was covered with blood due to his violent coughing, and after a moment Morgan pleaded:

"Can you take a spoon and blow it on me?"

The red turban didn't dare to be careless, threw the scimitar out of the reach of Morgan at the door, picked up the iron spoon and carefully squatted in front of Morgan's bed to blow air.

He was so focused, feeding Morgan spoonful after spoonful of warm water for fear of spilling a drop.

If people who don't know see this scene, they think it's a filial son who takes care of his seriously ill father.

He didn't know that Morgan's fingers had reached the sharp knife under the side of his leg.

At the moment when the red turban handed out the spoon again without vigilance, Morgan made a move!

The knife went straight into the back of the opponent's neck and slashed down so hard that the entire neck was almost cut off by his full force.

The only flesh and skin still hung from the neck, broken and disconnected.

The red turban didn't even have a chance to speak, and the blood spurted all over his body from the severed organs of his neck.

The spoon and glass were still in their original shape, and they were held tightly in their hands.

Morgan threw his head to the side and struggled to get up and leaned against the edge of the bed, panting.