"The strength of the general is not weak, so you didn't think about subduing it?"

The token in that person's hand was destroyed by Zhong Ming, Zhang Chunhua was a little sorry, this token plus Zhong Ming's blood, it was not difficult to subdue the general who had lost his subordinates.

"Do you know the name of the general?"

Zhong Ming smiled and asked a strange question, and Zhang Chunhua shook his head.

"His name is Zhang Zhong."

Zhong Ming looked playful.

Zhang Chunhua was stunned, his beautiful eyes were huge, and he seemed to have forgotten what to say.

The name Zhang Zhong is not famous, but in the Three Kingdoms killing plane, there are few unfamiliar people, in the huge yellow sand, it is also a heroic man who divides one side, the only strange thing is that this person seems to have been born out of thin air, and he occupies a place in the southeast.

Not only is the use of soldiers like a god, but the generals under him are innumerable, and the city he established is even more impregnable, and the siege cannon cannot leave traces on it.

And if that person is Zhang Zhong, it means ......

Zhong Ming continued to explain unhurriedly

"This person is the former Zhang Zhong, and he used to have some connection with the deployment of the pioneers of the past, but he was just ......"

"Just what?"

Zhong Ming smiled and didn't continue to speak.

It's just that this person is a fool, and he always holds a few broken cards in a daze like a treasure.

Zhong Ming still had a sentence in his heart, which was the same as this well-known sentence of the Three Kingdoms Killing Plane, which he had never said.

If he is willing to stay there for the sake of his story, why should I take him to a point of no return.

The corners of Zhong Ming's mouth twitched, a little self-deprecating.

……

"Do you regret it?"

In the face of his friend's inquiry, he shook his head, and in just a few days, he saw through the thinness of human nature.

Someone fell from the roof, he reached out to pick it up, followed by a high paraplegic, and he didn't even hear the woman's thanks before leaving.

The city gave him a pennant, and after that, no one cared.

A friend quietly peeled an apple for him on the side, and then handed it to him, he reached out blankly to take it, the pair of eyes were extremely cold, and he couldn't see any mood clearly.

There was not the slightest hope, mourning was greater than death, and the friend shook his head, the voice was not loud, but it was clear enough:

"There is no way to cure you with ordinary medical skills, but if it is him, there is still a little possibility."

Looking at the frenzy in his friend's eyes, the corners of his mouth on the hospital bed were a little astringent, twitched the corners of his mouth, swallowed the mouthful of apples, and then said quietly:

"It seems good to die like this."

"And what about your paintings?"

He has no father or mother, painting is the only interest, perhaps because he has not experienced the world for a long time, does not understand the vicissitudes of the world, and his mind is very naïve, but his paintings have a peculiar spirituality, so he can also support himself.

But now, he looked at his lower body, which he couldn't move, sighed, and the corners of his mouth twitched, a little self-deprecating:

"Now I can't hold a pen."

But it was that innocence that made him meet his only friend, a strange doctor with extremely good medical skills.

He is skilled in medicine because he can cure all kinds of incurable diseases, but strangely because he rarely heals people, and often holds ancient books and ponders the handwriting on them.

His doctor friend looked at the painting hanging from his hospital bed, showing a man holding a spear, a face with an armor stomach, and his characteristic spirituality.

It is not difficult to feel the sharpness, which is a few points better than the sharpness, is the atmosphere and determination filled with gunsmoke, which makes people immersive and unstoppable.

Looking at his friend's perspective, he smiled, this painting was written down by him, the source was a strange quote he saw on the Internet, the handwriting was traditional throughout, but he took the trouble to analyze them one by one, and when this painting came out, success became his proud work.

Even if someone offered more than a million, he never sold it.

The corners of my friend's mouth slid up slightly, and he said in surprise:

"It's still your painting that is the most interesting, and it can give me a different feeling every time I see it."

His eyes were a little distracted, and he couldn't see the focus clearly, and the flag on the man's back was drawn by him, but he clearly remembered that he had clearly not written these two words.

Two pitch-black handwriting appeared on the red flag, the color was extremely dull, but it was deeply imprinted in his mind like attached bones.

"Pioneers?"

The corners of his mouth were a little puzzled, but a strange token fell from the sky and smashed on his head, like a stone falling on the surface of a lake, causing ripples.

Touching his head, it was not very painful, and there were no scars, he picked up the token and put it in his hand, and two handwritings suddenly appeared on the blank pitch-black token, which was his own name: Dusty.

"What is this?"

When the crack in the air was torn apart, a large fly fell out.

"Run."

He was about to get up, only to find that he had lost his previous perfection, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"Bump."

A flask smashed into the fly's body, and the fly collapsed next to the bed, smashing down a wall.

The doctor picked up a reagent bottle and shook it for a moment, smashing it against the crack, which briefly twisted.

The doctor's voice was very leisurely, with inexplicable encouragement, it sounded very comfortable, but it was very mysterious:

"If you are willing to forget yourself, you don't have to dwell on the past."

"Forget about yourself ......"

He blinked, felt inexplicably tired, and fell asleep.

The doctor shook his head helplessly, picked up the token that had slipped to the ground in his hand, hesitated for a moment, and poured out the potion from the test tube in one hand and splashed it on this token, which made a sizzling corrosive sound.

"Now, you should wake up, and if you don't want to, you can continue to rest, after all, your awakening does not need to rely on external forces."

Looking at the person sleeping on the bed, the doctor's hands and feet were very sharp, and all kinds of unknown medicines were in his hands, and soon, the painter's body on the bed was restored to perfection.

The doctor sighed again, touched the artist's forehead, and wiped out a strange red mark that was identical to the one on the middle finger of his left arm.

"Pioneer, you... Are you still there?"

The doctor's memory is far away, and in a trance he seems to be able to see that the flag planted in one world after another, and those worlds are often virtual, and each time they are built is a terrible war, different from human strife, that is, in a place where there is no life, to create a world that can live there.

That battle, to this day, the doctor still remembers vividly, the fall of the pioneer flag, all the deployment flocked, some people painted the beautiful scenery of mountains and rivers from nothingness, some people purified the environment from which the world can live, and some people artificially held pen and ink, recording one problem after another.

The cost of breaking into an unknown place is never a little bit, just like the existence of a pioneer, I don't even know where to start.

Whenever a place is successfully fed, when the pioneer leaves, the life that survives in that place is not even aware of the existence of the pioneer.

The doctor has treated the injuries of the pioneers countless times, and he knows that the battles of the past are more or less unknown to the world.

The painter, on the other hand, disappeared in a battle, which was not difficult, but the place was very peculiar, and he lost his memory one by one when he purified the uninvited spirits above.

I have forgotten everything that the mark in my hand can represent.

The painter is also one of them, although he has never been tired of his work, but during the time of his disappearance, he falls in love with someone, someone who should have existed in the past.

Although the woman was charming, she had an unusually good spirit that was three points better than the man, and the painter who had lost his memory stayed in that past, and no one bothered him.

Even the pioneers of that generation found out what had happened to him, just shook their heads, and took over his work themselves.

The doctor did not ask the pioneers what was the point of doing this, but the pioneers of that generation did not hide it, and told him directly:

"I will save a man, a man whom the world will not tolerate."

Although he was very curious, the doctor would not ask much, until the day came, no one thought that he would give up the pioneer banner and live in seclusion, and when he did so, no one objected to his decision, and they put away their marks and waited for his next order.

Then, the news of that generation of pioneers was lost, and then, I don't know how many eras had passed, someone actually blew up the flag.

At that moment, the doctor felt in his heart that the sky was falling.

But when the doctor fell into despair, he found that the mark on his hand had not disappeared, and still shimmered faintly.

Over the years, not many people knew the pioneers better than him, and he breathed a sigh of relief, and then brought a ring with him at the mark, and if a patient asked him about it, he would only laugh and not say anything.

When the doctor found the painter here, he found that the artist had no memory left.

Although the painter caused high paraplegia because of saving people, the doctor was not worried at all, because whether it was the identity of the painter or his own medical skills, it was enough to solve this problem that could not be solved in this era.

The only problem was that he didn't know how to explain it to the painters, but today, the aura on their bodies attracted the monsters of the past.

The magic of the pioneer's blood is a secret that has never been hidden, and the ability of the painter has been pitied by countless people, this mutated giant fly, is just a temptation, but it is also a huge camera, and their information has been exposed.

But the doctor was not in a hurry, there was still an inexplicable fanaticism in his heart, and the corners of his mouth were Nan Nan:

"Finally, we can meet again."

The painter did not really wake up, at this moment, he had a very strange dream, the dream was full of gunsmoke, the painting in his hand was very magical, bringing strong vitality to the strange sphere where only stones existed.

But there are always strange creatures coming to stop them, and one by one the targets are at the forefront, the figure holding the flag upside down, the inverted figure wearing blue armor, and the handsome face is full of determination.

I don't know how many bones are under my feet, the painter is very strange, for some reason, he obviously doesn't remember that person, but he seems to be willing to do anything for that person, if he gives an order, even if he lets himself die now, he will go willingly.