Gastens's statement stunned the big man, and he clenched his fists in both hands, "Oh? That's it? Do you know that those who can be assigned here are all criminals who have committed serious crimes and cannot be amnestied? With your small body, what bad things can you do? At most, it's just a little girl from a noble lord who slept with it, right? ”

The big man's words caused a burst of laughter around the two, who were all listening to Gastens in reply, paying attention to the new joining, who was out of step with them.

Gastens put his bag on the ground beside him and began to undress, asking rhetorically without fear as he took it off.

"What about you, big one? What did you do? ”

"Cut, Lao Tzu has been a bandit, dozens of lives on his hands, you-"

The big man stopped abruptly halfway through speaking. Although he has always called Gastens a little white face, objectively speaking, Gastens is not weak. Years of farming and a miner's life for half a year, as well as the awareness of always exercising, made Gastens also have relatively developed muscles. However, the big man stopped talking, not because he saw Gastens muscles, but because he saw the scar on Gastens's left chest.

It was the traces of a soldering iron that had just been scabbed over and had not yet fully grown, and the pink tender flesh, the yellow scab shell, and the black embers constituted a somewhat distorted and ugly word for "death". It was the treatment that only the most vicious felons could receive, and once caught, they were branded on their chests, indicating that the person was mortal, and could not be pardoned or commuted.

"I don't have a life on my hands, but many people in this world are afraid of me, they don't want me to live."

Gastens was still as calm as he picked up his coat from the ground and put it back on. Not far away, the non-commissioned officers were watching the conflict on his side, and when they saw him sweep their gaze, they all avoided him. The soldiers around Gastens also saw the scar, and they whispered, looking at Gastens with no longer contemptuous.

The strong man came to his senses, cleared his throat, and reached out to hammer Gastens in the intact chest.

"Yes, you're amazing. This is a stigma that only our boss has, and I don't have it. My name is Big Ivan, my full name is Ivan Warren, I turned out to be a serf, killed a nobleman, ran out and became a bandit, and finally became a death row prisoner. What about you, what is your name? ”

"Gastens, Gastens Warren."

At this time, everyone was initially accepted by Gas. Although the temperature at the end of September was a little cool, Gastens still had his chest open, and although he disdained such a low-level threat, it was the most effective deterrent in such a crowd. With the help of the scar on his chest and Big Ivan, he quickly blends in with the gang and mingles with them.

The two groups waited for some companions one after another, and then waited for the steam locomotive and the officer who led them. The officer had no hair on the top of his head and a round belly, and he looked like he had little combat power. He snapped with a small whip in his hand.

"You scumbags, fucking get me in the car!"

————————

As when he came, Gastens got on a steam locomotive with his new comrades. The army prepared for them, the same stuffy tanker used to transport serfs, except for the gate, there were no windows, not even stools. More than 100 people crowded into that stuffy carriage, each handed out a cake, and each compartment put a large bucket of water, which was all the food. Gastens took a bite of the pie, which was made of rye flour for some unknown time, and smelled pungent musty.

The people in the same carriage seem to be accustomed to this kind of treatment, and there are almost no complaints. Everyone ate bread in silence, and from time to time people crowded to the bucket to drink water, or to blow the wind through the crack in the door. Gastens sat for a moment, feeling the heat in the carriage, he stood up and walked over to the bucket of water. The area around the bucket was already crowded with people at this time, and Gastens unceremoniously pushed aside a few soldiers who exuded a strong smell and squeezed next to the bucket. The bucket is only half a person tall and heavy. Gastens bent down as others did, took a sip of water in both hands. The water wasn't very clear, but the feeling of the mouth still made Gastens breathe a sigh of relief. At such times, a sip of water is enough to make one feel happy.

But at that moment, Gastens felt someone push him from behind. With a subconscious wave of his hands, the water was scattered on the ground, and the person fell aside. Before he could see who had done it, a hoarse voice was heard.

"Fucking little white face, do you think you're amazing? Get out of the way! ”

The man who spoke had long hair and a beard, and was not as strong as Big Ivan, but his expression was gloomy. He looked condescendingly at Gastens who was half-kneeling on the ground, and cursed in his mouth. On his chest, which was also open, the word "death" like Gastens was shaking with his movements.

The people around them quietly moved out of the way, leaving room for a half-kneeling Gastens and a standing provocateur.

Faced with this situation, Gastens did not hesitate, the creatures in this carriage, not so much people, but most of them were beasts, and against such people, words made no sense, fangs and blood donations were the only way to establish status. He looked up at the man coldly, and the body that had already been adjusted was violently exerted, like a tense spring to the extreme, and pounced on the other party.

The man seemed to be relaxed, but he was actually prepared, but he didn't expect Gastens to go straight without even saying a word, and he lost the opportunity psychologically. Gastens did not look up, he bent down and directly wrapped one hand around the opponent's waist, and the other hand grabbed the man's bulging lower body directly from the bottom up, without any hesitation, without any hesitation, with all his strength, while pinching and bursting the soft object in his hand, while hitting the man against the steel car wall in one breath, making a huge clang.

"Ah————————h

The man was so distressed by Garstens' surprise attack that he slid to the ground with his back against the wall of the carriage, curled up in a mass of prawns. Although he was ready for a fight, he did not have the mentality of fighting for his life, and was hit by Gastens as soon as he got on the field. Gastens apparently did not give up, and while the man was curling up and screaming, he kicked him in the head twice, and his toes ached with all his strength. Then, without giving the other party any respite, he straddled the man's body, his right arm passed under his neck, and his back and hips exerted force together, and the whole person collapsed into a straight rope in an instant.

"Click—"

I don't know when a crisp sound sounded in the quiet carriage. Still uneasy, Gastens grabbed the man's neck with the elbow of his right hand, twisted it from side to side a few times, made sure that he had just broken the provocateur's cervical vertebrae, turned his neck around a full circle, made him face to himself, patted his left hand on the face with a painful expression, and then stood up, looked left and right, and asked.

"Who the fuck is this idiot?"

——————————————

For the rest of the journey, Gastens enjoyed the most comfortable door cracks and the right to drink water at any time. He was also too lazy to be polite, and enjoyed his privileges in a grand manner. Most of these death row inmates and felons are unforgivable, and killing one is not a psychological burden for Gastens. And, in Gastens last life's experience in the army, there was only one way to win respect for that scenario.

After another half a day, the train arrived. Someone opened the door of that carriage. The round-bellied officer poked his head in, pinched his nose and sniffed, drove everyone out of the car, and found the body.

"You scum, you don't fucking worry about Lao Tzu!"

He cursed, and didn't ask who did it, or what was going on, but just let a few soldiers carry the dead man out of the car, and then drove the rest of the people on the road to the barracks. In his eyes, these death row prisoners may not be much different from pigs. And the death of people in transit may not be a big deal worth mentioning.

There was still some distance from the station to the barracks, and after a full two hours of walking, they walked to Gastens, whose feet and necks were a little sore, and saw where they were going to stop next.

A low, chaotic building in the middle of the wilderness.

The round-bellied officer handed over to the commander of the barracks, and the commander asked in a voice that everyone could hear, "How many died this time?" ”

The pot-bellied officer turned his head to look at the team, stretched out his hand to make a four, turned and rode back. The chief spat on the ground and cursed. Gastens watched as the short, stout officer with a cutlass at his waist walked up to his ranks, then walked from the front of the line to the back of the group, and looked at everyone before hearing his order.

"Open the door and release the people, there are new livestock!"

The gate nailed to thick logs opened at the officer's order, and four or five soldiers carrying the gate watched through the group of recruits through gritted teeth. Gastens noticed that the neatly dressed new non-commissioned officers weren't here, and that the barracks was obviously just for them to be cannon fodder.

"Hey, boy, welcome to Ithaca!"

The man's shouts caused some laughter and whistles, which Gastens didn't understand, but he knew the name of the place from the shouts.

Ithaca, an outpost of Hell recorded by the Tritheistic Cult, the Land of the Sunken.

——————————————

"You scumbags! Rubbish! Useless garbage! I'll tell you who you really are! This is the boot training camp for the Death Stormtroopers of the Sixth Army in the Western Theater, and the fucking fools who only know how to sit in the office don't know how to send a little good scum to Lao Tzu! Listen to the fuck for me! You guys can come here, you know what you've done, and it's shit luck to live one more fucking day! Lao Tzu tells you, the Death Strikers are going to fucking die! If any of you are afraid of death, stand up, Lao Tzu will kill him now! ”

Instructor Tom Frezzie told the Gastens the day after they arrived at the barracks in the most direct way why the barracks was called Ithaca. Their diet was so poor that they slept on a bunk in a bunk and bathed in a river beach 3 kilometers away, and they were punished for running, standing and even whipping if they disobeyed the instructor's words. Gastens watched as two stunned young men who couldn't stand it were shot one by one by the instructor who was full of foul-mouthed words, and their legs were broken one by one, and blood flowed all over the ground. This heinous act was supposed to provoke a revolt from these outlaws, but the gendarmes who were eyeing each other made any resistance stupid. What's more, in front of these felons who narrowly escaped the death penalty, there is still a big carrot hanging.

"I told you! Death squads, fucking to death! If any of you don't die, after three charges, Lao Tzu will personally send you to the normal army! Absolve you of all your crimes! Did you fucking hear that? Absolve you of all your crimes! This was agreed upon by both the Grand Magister and His Majesty the Emperor! But if you cheat and play tricks, pretend to be dead, don't be a fool, I'm blind! ”

Ithaca's instructor, Tom Frezzie, is a big voice in the middle of the word, but his promise has some excitement for the Garstens. Most of these who were assigned to the death squad were felonies that could not be exempted, and although most of them were scum, Gastens still found some people who were still somewhat sane and could be communicated.

“…… I thought at the time, why do we serfs use those old men as cattle and horses every day? Why do they eat meat, but we can't even eat black bread? Why? Everyone is a human being, they all have a head and two arms, no one is worse than the other, why should they let me be a cow and a horse? I thought so, and our old man was vicious, so I searched for one night, touched his house, stabbed him to death, and pulled out all the brothers' slave contracts from his house, and distributed them all to everyone. But I didn't fucking expect that these ungrateful guys would be caught......"

Sitting next to Gastens, munching on the moldy black bread with him was a serf-murderer named Sink Warren. Of course, he, unlike Gastens, did not know that his actions were in fact a radical revolt of the serf class against the landlord class. And he didn't have a clear idea of the revolution itself. Gastens did not want to let such a person go, and he took advantage of the fact that every night when everyone was having dinner, he talked to him about the most basic class theory. The experience and understanding from the earth made him very clear and thorough about the reason why the serf class was exploited. And the swiftness and decisiveness of the murder in the carriage also made Zinker Warren listen to all his words. Gradually, more and more condemned prisoners began to take an interest in the de facto boss, and they began to sit around Gastens after dinner, listening to the murderous felon, telling them about the higher realms of crime.

Rebel.