A fine snow fell from the sky, plastering the ruins of the ancient city with a layer of silver sand. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 info Collapsed buildings, like giants lying on their sides, sleeping quietly. Broken walls, crooked stone pillars, and rusted steel are everywhere here.

Standing on a high place, the thin shallow snow could not hide the wreckage of civilization, revealing patches of black oil stains, reflecting a translucent white light in the morning light. If you look closely at this moment, you will see that these are not ordinary stains, but a kind of black moss that adheres to the collapsed building.

Black moss, whose scientific name is "cemetery moss", is a moss that has mutated due to radiation contamination, and it only grows in areas with moderate or higher radiation concentrations. They prefer all kinds of grease and asphalt to water.

In the radiation zone of the southern cemetery, black moss is the basis of all life, and where there are them, there will be associated fungi. There are fungi and plants, and then there is the bottom of the animal food chain - the cemetery rat. However, these plants are toxic to humans, and eating them can greatly increase the radiation concentration in the body. When this concentration reaches a certain peak, the skin begins to decay, slough off, and various organs fail.

People living here must constantly check the radiation levels in their bodies and neutralize the radioactive elements in their bodies by taking medicines.

To the south of the southern cemetery, there is a large river from northeast to southwest, called "sewage river", which originates from the Black Wind Mountains, and its outlet is in the southwest of the mainland, and after flowing through dozens of ground towns, it flows into the Shura Sea adjacent to the central continent.

At this moment, in the ruins of an ancient city 160 kilometers north of the "Waterwheel Town" in the upper reaches of the sewage river, at the corner of a ruined wall, a young man covered in blood is lying. I saw him panting and moving his body slightly, as if he wanted to remove the rucksack behind him.

This dying young man was none other than the iron slag who had just parachuted from the battleship Gold.

Minutes earlier, he had been shot in mid-air by a swarm of Templars. Within seconds, he had been shot several times and his parachute was riddled with holes. In a panic, he cut the parachute rope with a knife and fell straight down. When he was still more than fifty meters above the ground, he spread his membranous wings and glided forward for a while, fitting into a brick wall. Fortunately, the brick wall was badly weathered and collapsed as soon as it hit, not only did it not cause much damage to him, but it also slowed down the momentum. However, he also paid the price of a cracked shoulder blade in half.

"Yugo Lombard, we'......re even," he said to himself, struggling to unload his military backpack and take out an aluminum emergency medical kit.

Pulling open the seal, there were several different colored potions and some small surgical instruments. He was shot six times, one in the waist and one in the head, which cut a large hole and scorched a piece of hair. The bullets shot into the thighs and arms were stuck in the muscle fibers and were easily removed, while the bullets shot into the left lower arm were embedded in the bones and were very difficult to obtain. The last gunshot wound was to the ribs in the chest, and it was even more bloody everywhere.

The thick smell of blood filled the air, and after the iron slag took the warhead, poured a large can of hydrogen peroxide to disinfect the wound, then applied some white powdered hemostatic medicine, and then bandaged himself crookedly. Then, he took out the blue liquid antibiotic and the bright red concentrated nutrient and gave himself a shot. Finally, looking at the light yellow anesthetic, he hesitated repeatedly for a while and decided not to fight. After all, this is a low-security area, and he is under anesthesia and cannot cope with unknown dangers.

After treating his wounds and tidying up, he unscrewed the lid of the kettle, drank his saliva, and looked at his multi-function watch. It was ten o'clock in the morning, and his temperature was thirty-nine eight degrees, and he had to rest enough time to wait for the high fever to subside before he could move. This watch, which he asked Sam Nichols, the super VIP customer specialist of Harley Industries, to customize with RC Company, in addition to checking the time, detecting body temperature and radiation concentration in the body, also has a series of functions such as altitude, temperature, humidity and other functions to detect the external environment.

In addition, the watch comes with a flashlight and an infrared distance detector, as well as bidirectional charging of solar and mechanical kinetic energy. The watch body bracelet is made of industrial-grade high-density alloy with surface aging treatment, which is waterproof, shockproof and high-temperature resistant, and can adapt to most harsh environments.

Fiddling with his watch for a while, Iron Slag lowered his sleeves and half-squinted his eyes, ready to rest for a while. But not long after he closed his eyes, he heard a low gasp coming from behind the wall.

"Woohoo...... Woo ...... Woo ...... Woo ...... Woo ...... Woo ...... Woohoo......"

With his eyes narrowed, he slowly pulled out Merlin's revolver, listening carefully to the movement behind him. As time passed, the wheezing sound grew closer and clearer. He preliminarily judged that this should be some kind of large canine animal, and the sound source is large and small, far and near, and it should be a group.

Graveyard ghouls? Worm wolf? Or a black blood mastiff? He flipped through the atlas in his heart, and in his current state, if the former was fine, the latter two would be in trouble.

"Roaring ......"

With a low roar, a jet-black figure rushed up the wall, with slender limbs, smooth muscles, sharp claws, and shiny black fur, it was a cemetery ghoul attracted by the smell of blood.

"Bang!"

Iron Slag didn't think about it, and shot it. In an instant, a large pistol bullet burst out, shattering the sternum of the ghoul just as it jumped onto the wall. Before the ghoul could cling to the wall, it flew out with blood.

"Roar!" "Bang!" "Roar!" "Bang!" "Roar!" "Bang!" "Roar!" "Bang!"

Immediately after, black shadows swooped down on the wall from behind, letting out a low roar, and the iron slag blasted them back with a gun, just like just now.

Looking at the shattered corpses of their companions, the pack of ghouls soon realized that the prey was tougher than they had imagined, and they dispersed and confronted each other not far away.

Seeing the figures hiding in the ruins one by one, the iron slag couldn't help but secretly complain. He couldn't stand the time it took with them. Then, taking a deep breath, he swallowed the pain, jumped over the wall, and rode on the broken wall, looking around at the ghouls.

"Bang!"

A ghoul unfortunately exposed the back half, and his leg was broken by a single shot, and he immediately rolled and struggled on the ground, whimpering.

Iron Slag didn't replenish the gun, just let it struggle there in agony to deter the other ghouls.

"Bang!"

Another ghoul dog showed part of its body, and Iron Slag raised its hand and shot its tail.

"Wooh...... Whining...... Whine...... "The ghoul dog that had lost its tail whined lowly, but the other ghouls hid motionless behind the obstacle, as if they were not about to give up. It seems that this group of ghouls has a leader.

Seeing this, Iron Slag spat on the dog corpse under the broken wall. Originally, he wanted to keep it for exploring the way when he left, but the current situation did not allow him to have any reservations.

"Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak...... Squeak squeak......"

A few seconds later, large red ants emerged from the flesh of the corpse of the ghoul, emitting a dense insect chirp, while shaking off the blood clots on their bodies, spreading their membranous wings, and flying in all directions.

In an instant, the iron slag obtained a three-dimensional image of the surroundings, revealing all the ghouls lurking in the ruins. With the help of scout ants, Iron Slag soon discovers that a ghoul the size of an adult cow is hiding behind a nearby rock.

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"

Three shots in a row, the first burst burst the stone, the second blasted a large hole in the crack, and the third followed and blasted into the ghoul's belly!

"Poof!" With a muffled thud, the ghoul's belly exploded, splattering flesh and organs in all directions.

However, the vitality of this huge ghoul is extremely strong, and it screams while dragging its thick intestines to escape.

"Buzz ......"

In the midst of a dense buzzing sound, dozens of scout ants flapped their membranous wings and swooped down with the giant dog, burrowing into its belly one by one.

"Whew!" With a loud scream, more soldier ants flew out of the ghoul's belly.

In the thrilling scene, the rest of the ghouls were frightened, whimpered, and fled the scene. A few minutes later, the soldier ants chasing the ghoul suddenly fell from the sky, only to see a layer of green fluorescence in its crimson carapace, which then dissolved into a puddle of green liquid at a speed visible to the naked eye. In just a few seconds, swarms of Scout ants were dead.

Looking at the abnormal phenomenon, Iron Slag couldn't help frowning, the scout ant ants with a life cycle of between thirty and sixty minutes actually died in less than five minutes. However, he soon figured out that the high concentration of radiation on these ghouls can destroy the cell tissue of the soldier ants, resulting in a decrease in survival time.

After driving away the ghouls, the iron slag tumbled over the wall and curled up in the corner, closing his eyes and recuperating.

However, a wave did not settle, and another wave rose, and after more than ten minutes, he heard a few slight footsteps, and carefully identified it, it should be three people. The Southern Cemetery is a place where the jungle eats the jungle, especially in low-security areas. Iron Slag then slowed his breathing, covered his hand holding the gun with his marching backpack, and then maintained a high level of alertness.

"The gunfire just now, it should be here." After a burst of rustling clothes, a muffled voice came from the other side of the broken wall.

"Shh......h Be quiet, if it's a hard stubble, we'll ...... go" "Hmm. ”

Listening to the conversation between the three of them, the iron slag got up lightly and slowly, and then pointed the muzzle of the gun at the place where the sound came, and through the brick wall, he continuously pulled the trigger, and a gun blasted over!

After determining the other party's intentions, it is his consistent rule to strike first.

ps：

Today, I was told that the subsistence period ended, and the income immediately fell by half, and the wireless terminal seems to be far away.

Alas......

Then I saw someone on the browser reply: "I hope I don't charge money." ”

I'm really speechless about this, can I write a book without eating or drinking?

It may be that I am old and slow in thinking, and it takes an average of six hours to write 3,000 words, plus a little manuscript, and I have to write for nine to ten hours a day, which is equivalent to writing full-time with a thousand dollars.

Many people say it's good-looking, but they don't even want to pay a few dollars for a subscription, what is support?

I just want to tell the guy, "I hope you don't take money." If I can't write one day, I can only clasp my fists and say, "Brother did his best, don't blame me." ”

I'm on the Internet.,Ask for a subscription.,I heard that three hundred are ordered to have the opportunity to buy out.,If you really like this work.,I hope to subscribe to it.,I'm still half short.,If you can order more than 100 even.,My situation will be much more comfortable.。