Compared to the hinterland of the empire, because the news of the march to the gates of hell made every citizen's blood boil, Sherlock on the Antarctic continent seemed a little boring.

A few days ago, the number of war correspondents who were chasing and intercepting them finally showed a tendency to decrease, and the official renaming of the Holy Cult Army and the government army was not an incredible event, but it was certainly not a small matter, and it was better to report on the changes in the military than to arrest the elusive hired detective everywhere.

At the same time, because of the official establishment of the expeditionary force, some theaters have begun to carry out military mobilization, and the sense that the human alliance is finally going to start a final decisive battle with the demons pervades every corner of the military base.

However, on the side of the .404 war zone, it was extraordinarily quiet, everyone was on standby, the weapons of war were all left in the base, and none of them were requisitioned.

A day passed

Two days have passed.

Five days have passed.

No orders were given, only all staff were on standby.

Maybe in the eyes of some people, this is a good thing, because the vanguard of the expedition is bound to suffer heavy casualties, and the later it is classified into the expeditionary force, it means that the further back the battle line, the lowest mortality rate will naturally be, and it is best to be able to stay in the rear line forever, so that you may be able to live in peace and see with your own eyes the day when the human race closes the door of the devil.

However.

This frozen soil has been full of war, with every breath, there are I don't know how many compatriots and comrades-in-arms have died, other soldiers are working hard for this great expedition, they are squandering their youth and blood in distant places, but the people in the 404 war zone can only nest in this base with nothing to do, like a group of stupid pigs who eat and wait for death all day long, this sense of detachment makes the soldiers around them who value honor more than their own names extremely distressed.

Sherlock is naturally one of them, he is either because of the sense of honor of some soldier, or simply feels that it is not interesting, maybe because the military wants Nightingale to stay in the rear, maybe because the medical team can also play some role in the back line, in short, he gradually lost his freshness to this kind of day, if Nightingale really has to stay in the rear, then it seems that he has no value to continue to stay here, it is better to go back to London to catch murderers and so on.

By the way, the bounty table of that criminal hasn't been updated for a long time, shouldn't I go to Lestrade to ask about the market, and update a batch of lists by the way.

In his thoughts, Sherlock flipped through the newspaper beside him.

Of course, it was not the one where he and Nightingale walked into the barracks a few days ago, but a very serious front-line war newspaper

It can be seen from the above reports that in fact, as early as many years ago, the human expeditionary plan had begun to show signs of implementation, and even General Patton, the supreme leader of the entire front-line theater, personally led a group of elite troops, which have penetrated nearly several thousand kilometers into the Antarctic continent to guide the direction of the large forces in the rear.

These days, the expeditionary force's offensive is very ferocious, and it took less than a week for a fully equipped advance army of 50,000 people to wipe out all the demon groups everywhere they went.

Of course, this momentum will definitely not be able to be maintained for a long time, because there is no holy light shrouded in Antarctica, and the deeper the battle line is pulled, the higher the probability of a sudden demon group appearing in the middle of the troops, or even a large demon tide, and it is necessary to find a way to establish a stable supply line before it is possible to continue to march forward with peace of mind.

But how do you keep your supply lines secure?

Is it necessary to build a military base at a distance?

How could the imperial finances be able to support it?

And in the early morning of the next day, the landing of an airship revealed the answer to this problem, and also explained why everyone in the 404 theater has been standing still.

A huge roar came from overhead, and an imperial military airship slowly descended from outside the clouds, the turbine accumulated too much heat during the long flight, and emitted it at low temperatures, instantly steaming out a large amount of water vapor, wrapping the entire airship in the main, like a cloud falling from the sky to the world.

As the cloud gradually dispersed, countless fine snow and dust were shaken out on the airship landing platform in the 404 theater of the Reddeck Strait, and the landing gear more than two meters thick rumbled and hit the ground strongly, making the surrounding officers and soldiers feel a tremor under their feet.

But no one was the slightest displeased with this kind of landing that made their feet tingle, but the officers who stood around the take-off and landing platform all looked solemn, and finally, after the airship came to a stop, a row of ladders stretched from the airship hatch to the snow beneath their feet, and seven or eight men in pure golden robes stepped off the airship.

The sunset, which has lasted for more than four months, has now gradually set down in the mountains, and the blood-red light is reflected from the side of the clouds, setting off those robes particularly dazzling, and it is precisely because this costume is too golden and eye-catching, so it is aesthetically aesthetically speaking, which makes people have a trace of inexplicable irritability. Even today's popes will only wear papal attire embroidered with golden sunflower imprints on formal occasions, or just embroider some golden silk threads on the edges of their clothes, but these people in front of them are more arrogant than the pope, or deliberate.

However, no amount of shiny clothing could hide their twisted and deformed bodies, some of them had their spines bent to 90 degrees, some had an extremely deep notch under their noses, dividing their lips into three petals, and some had only one eye left, and the other side was supposed to be the part of the eye, leaving only a small atrophied hole covered with collapsed eyelids.

The men walked down the ladder haughtily, not even glancing at the officers below, only frowning in displeasure at the coldness around them.

Immediately, some of the servants who came down from the airship hurriedly took some thicker coats and respectfully draped them over them, and the outer layers of those coats were all sewn with golden silk threads.

These people are the servants of the gods invited from the Temple of Divine Light.

The purpose of their trip to the front line was to try to bring the great light to this land of eternal cold, and follow the route of the expedition all the way to the gates of hell

(Send a small chapter first, sleep for a while, wake up and send another chapter, don't worry.) ）

(End of chapter)