The sun is bright and warm, the streets are full of excited laughter, the angels of death who have resisted the invasion of the enemy, and today is the day of celebration after the war, and every house in the main city is lit up, even the houses that are in ruins. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

The warriors, who had returned from the battle, were strolling along the long central blocks of the inner city, and the people who leaned out of the streets and houses on either side gave these glorious warriors their truest and purest cheers.

The warm sunlight sprinkled on the faces of the warriors and shone on their wounds, like a brilliant medal.

At the head of the line, the most enthusiastic cheers were greeted by Van in a standard combat uniform, gray Angel of Death livery, and almost fully armed accessories, making him look unusually heroic and tall.

"Brahma! Sanskrit! Sanskrit! The crowd erupted in the loudest applause and the most deafening cheers, and they shouted the name of Van as if they were welcoming the returning general.

Flowers and streamers fluttered and were given to their heroes.

An immature little girl staggered out of the crowd, "Uncle! To you! Her fat little hands held the bouquet tightly, and her fat little face had a bright light in her crescent-like eyes.

Van leaned down gently and picked up the little girl with one hand.

"Brahma! Sanskrit! Sanskrit! The crowd erupted into even more exhilarating screams.

The central square of the inner city was close to Fan's face, and he finally let go of the little girl in his arms, and took the bouquet at the little girl's insistence, and when he just stepped on the edge of the square, the sound of ritual music suddenly sounded.

Van walked up the red carpet, but the team behind him stopped outside the red carpet, because this is the glory that can only be given to the most valiant soldiers, and they have no such qualifications.

Walking alone on the red carpet, he suddenly had the illusion of wandering through the corpses everywhere, bleeding all over the field, and the cheering crowd turned into the faces of the dead soldiers!

And who is that coming? Art?!

Fan's heart contracted suddenly, and the brief palpitations made him quickly regain his consciousness.

When the illusion disappeared, he realized that he had stood on a high platform at some point.

The warm and uplifting praise of the master of ceremonies sounded in his ears, but this sound made him suddenly feel a swelling pain in his head.

"Now I have to invite our heroes to speak!"

The deafening cheers and applause completely drowned out the music, and thousands of pairs of eyes converged a little at this time.

Looking at the almost frantic crowd, Van didn't know what to say, to praise the victory of this war? But what are those who died!

Such a victory, he would rather not.

So he simply chose to remain silent.

"Brahma! Sanskrit! Sanskrit! "The cheers don't stop because of his silence.

Fan finally turned his head and looked at the general's seat not far behind him, smiling, showing goodwill, sneering, threatening, and the different expressions of the generals were clearly reflected in his inky pupils.

Too many things happened in the five days he was in a coma, and Yang Feng successfully changed his identity in these five days, quickly transforming from a wanted criminal to a general of the Angel of Death. In these five days, Van was deliberately portrayed as a hero who saved the Angel of Death by himself.

But he would not be grateful to anyone, for he remembered vividly that when he was "imprisoned" in the ward, every general looked at him with a fiery look that was almost like a rare treasure, and wanted to eat him alive. Van hates this feeling, hates to be treated like a commodity.

Yang Feng thought that he was the only one who told Fan that he could only use it for himself, but in fact, every general had said this to Fan to a greater or lesser extent, so when he heard Yang Feng's self-righteous words, Fan would sneer disdainfully.

At this time, Fan, who seemed to be in the limelight, was actually involuntarily unable to help himself, and as time progressed, the generals became more and more eager for him to show his attitude, and lure and coercion were just their most common ways.

Celebration is just a way for organizations to divert the attention of ordinary people, because they are the best targets of deception, they are the most easily blinded by appearances, and of course they are not qualified to understand the essence of the facts.

Interests and strife are like a seed rooted in the human psyche, and with just a little bit of sin enough for it to grow, they will "thrive" at an incredible rate.

So when the strong enemy retreated, the generals, who were "united" by the foreign enemy, fell apart again for the distribution of benefits after the war.

Those who died were completely wiped out in their world, no matter how honorably sacrificed. Generals don't care what dead people think, not at all.

Van held the bouquet of flowers and looked sarcastically at the well-organized generals' seats, which was the only way he could vent himself to these generals, knowing that after this celebration, an even more dangerous future awaited him.

Every general treats him as a low-hanging fruit, but there is only one Vatican, so what will the generals do?

Van didn't bother to think that he had just survived the previous conspiracy and had to be forced to get involved in the next conspiracy.

So he didn't have any excitement, even when there was an almost frantic crowd in front of him.

When the celebration was over, the Van was in a stiff posture throughout the whole process, like a puppet.

What could he do? All the movements and expressions were arranged in advance, even the little girl who gave the flowers, and the Angel of Death captured the confused and hesitant hearts of the people after the war with just such a small means.

"It is the duty of the organization to protect all people who are subordinate to the Angel of Death", this is from the first chapter of the Angel of Death Constitution.

The organization succeeded in appeasing the panicked people with a celebration, and also let those soldiers who survived from the battlefield enjoy the "honor" they won, the empty honor made the soldiers forget their doubts about the organization, and the excessive vanity made them think that this was the harvest of sacrifice.

Is it a sign of wisdom or the power of conspiracy that the generals have won again, and they have succeeded in diverting everyone's attention from possible potential crises? In this regard, Van can only scoff.

After the celebration, Van returned to the "imprisoned" hospital room, where he lay on a rocking chair, his eyes pierced from the bright lights in the room, and he held an Angel of Death's standard badge in his hand, the back of which was engraved with the somewhat vague number, DA-7E-031.

This is Art's badge, it is left alone in the corner of the block where Art died, and it is the only trace of Art that Van can find in this world.

Scattered bottles of wine lay all over the floor, the smooth floor was littered with wine stains, and Van gulped down the spirits, which ran down the corners of his mouth and soon soaked his whole body.

His bloodshot eyes were almost numb and sluggish, and the green tendons on the back of his hand holding the badge were exposed.

Outside the ward, the lights were completely turned off, and the world seemed to be plunged into endless darkness.

But the flash of dazzling sword swords sliced the darkness apart, and countless lightsabers struck together, and a cold corpse fell silently.

In the only brightly lit ward in the building, Van opened a bottle of wine again.

Even though the battle in the outside world was bloody, he didn't care in the slightest.

What if you care? He can only "belong" to the final victor.

On the night of ridiculous celebrations, the generals finally tore their masks, and they did whatever it took to get Van by all means.

A bouquet of gorgeous flowers scattered around the rocking chair was trampled by a big foot, and the juice of the flowers was dyed with wine stains in a colorful finish.

Van suddenly smiled, and the victor finally appeared.