There is no rain in this world, and even after the water source on the surface is evaporated, not even a single cloud in the sky can be seen for several months, but from time to time the dust and small stones rolled up by the wind, like water droplets flying in the sky, wantonly sprayed out of the canyon section, hitting everything as far as the eye can see, leaving deep or shallow mud marks on those huge conveyor pipes with a diameter of more than ten meters, but it sets off those gun holes and bullet marks are not so clear.

This is a water conveyor port on the outskirts of the city, and on this ordinary day when the sand and dust hit, the port that has always been calm and monotonous ushered in a gradually fierce and extraordinarily long battle, the sound of the pumping machine and the blow of the sandstorm could not hide the overly dense gunfire, and the fire brought out by the shooting was particularly vivid in the pale yellow gale.

The battle has been going on for a long time, and the demon army under his control is about to join the battle, but the support army sent by the Survivor Alliance has not shown up for a long time.

This pace was much, much slower than Sherlock had predicted, and it seemed that the riots in the city had already intervened with the military, and it was causing them a lot of trouble. Roughly calculated, at least 40% of the military force has been contained, and because large weapons cannot enter the city, the loss of combat effectiveness is even more than that.

A whistling bullet flew past Sherlock's ear, with a scorching wave of air, but Sherlock didn't blink, he held a pistol in his hand that was not outstanding, but in the dust that somewhat obscured his vision, each shot could hit the forehead of a government soldier, just standing at the mouth of the fierce battle, pulling the trigger steadily and rhythmically, each bullet seemed to have been calculated with the most precision, through the smoke, through the fire, through someone's head, taking away a fresh life.

Of course, these people also have their own tasks, their own duties as soldiers, and in their senses, the death of the traitor is justified, and in this whole world, Sherlock is indeed the most damned person, and the person who is killed by the traitor will definitely be classified as a sacrifice, giving his life for the sake of the human race, noble, great, and admired.

But when Sherlock kills these people, he doesn't have the slightest wave in his heart.

The people of the two time periods, separated by 800 years from each other, are actually only a brief distance in the long river of history, why are they so incompatible.

It's a question of history, it's a question of philosophy, it's a question of resources, energy, hatred, humanity, and so on, not Sherlock's problem anyway.

The hat he had worn for more than half a year could not block the oncoming wind and sand, and the gravel and gravel ran down his cheeks, and he squinted his eyes, still calmly pulling the trigger, allowing the hot bullet casings to fly around him and clank to the ground.

In just a few seconds, more than a dozen people had already died under Sherlock's gun, and then, the mud and sand under his feet were suddenly lifted, and an unrecognizable mutant creature suddenly burst out from below, and then dragged the body of a certain Union soldier into a hole with a diameter of only a dozen centimeters.

The battle, which lasted for several hours, suddenly became one-sided after the sudden addition of these mutant creatures, and after five minutes, everything was over, and the alliance army was completely wiped out, and a rabble of all kinds of people quickly snatched the other party's transportation, tried to find the corpse on the still intact clothing, and then put it on their own body.

Sherlock also quickly boarded the co-pilot of a chariot, shook the dust off his body, and looked at his expression, without the slightest nervousness.

But not being nervous does not mean that you are not embarrassed.

In fact, he was able to come here, the abandoned subway tunnel underground could be unimpeded, and there were so many outlaws around him who were not inferior to the regular army, and he could get on these two cars and speed towards the wasteland in the distance, and I don't know how many people would have to pay for everything here.

The people of this world have long since expelled the traitor and think that he is the most damned existence, but when they think of so many people dying for themselves, they also have a heavy feeling in their hearts that should be numb.

This is not due to Sherlock's kindness, which he has never had anything to do with the word, but because the people who died for him were essentially his enemies, and the reason why they paid with their lives for themselves turned out to be an illusory hope that even he himself did not know how to achieve.

"Your skills are very good, it seems that I lost to you before, which is a normal result." The tall, thin man with unknown names said with a smile in sign language, maybe because his palms were not suitable for shooting, or maybe he was fond of bloody fighting with flesh, in short, in the battle just now, he used his hands the size of his face to break the necks of more than twenty Union soldiers, and he was also seriously wounded, at this time, an accompanying doctor was picking out the shrapnel embedded in the bones for him.

With his head down, Sherlock driving through the deserted area on the edge of the city, the road was constantly bumping, and it was hard for him to imagine that one day, he would be fighting alongside a group of people on the other side of Hell's Gate, but he deliberately didn't want to know each other's names.

In this way, without the blocking of the buildings in the city, the wind around me became stronger and stronger, the windshield crackled with the rubble raised by the vehicle in front of me, and the people in the car seemed to talk louder.

A lot of people died, a lot of people were injured, and the smell of blood mixed with the peculiar choking smell of dust permeated the cars, but for some reason, these people seemed to be in a good mood.

Vaguely, Sherlock actually heard some people discussing, if the people of this world can really go through the rift in time and space and go to the other world, then can they see the magical scenery of the grassland.

It is said that in winter, everything is white, and in autumn, the grass and leaves will turn golden, and they will wither to the ground, paving the road golden.

However, this kind of statement will be seriously corrected by some people, because in the records, it seems that the seasons change differently depending on the region, for example, in some places, even in winter, there is no snow, and some trees do not show yellow leaves in winter, such as pine trees.

This surprising ecology seems to have attracted the emotion of many people, who even argued about whether they would get burned if they jumped into the sea in the summer, and the conclusion was no, because the ocean is big and big.

People could not understand what kind of sense this "bigness" was, so they could only be silent and yearning, as if they saw the blue sky and the sea merging at the end of the line of sight.

"If I could go to that world, I would have to find a beautiful girl, I actually wanted a child, and when I gave birth, I would wait outside the delivery room for the child to be pushed out, rather than a government official carrying a two-year-old child I didn't know to my door.

In that case, I will definitely treat that child as a treasure."

Perhaps as a life, the concept of reproduction still remains in the hearts of these people, and the outlaw smiled, imagining that he could have a daughter, watch her grow up, and take her to see the sea.

In this way, holding the unstoppable blood in his chest, he stopped breathing with a smile.

His death brought reality back into front of everyone, and everyone began to fall silent, the smoke and smell of blood re-permeating the carriage, occasionally drifting out of the window, carried away by the strong wind, and disappearing into the increasingly desolate Gobi Desert.

finally

"Here they are."

The driver in front said calmly.

Sherlock didn't look up, in fact, he had already judged from the tremor of the car and the roar of the wind and sand that in the distance, countless chariots and heavy military weapons were speeding in his direction.

The chaos in the city has already involved too many government forces, and the wave of convoys he is in is actually only a small branch of the armed forces under his control.

The old man known as the breeder has accumulated a very scattered network over the past few decades, but it is very useful, as if no matter where he goes, someone can take him to a secret place to repair, he can contact those arms manufacturers, he can find those outlaws waiting to fight, bombs, vehicles, food, and most importantly, no one in the military should know his whereabouts.

But in time, there are still such a large number of troops heading in their direction, and the military combat power of this world seems to be somewhat beyond Sherlock's imagination.

"Don't worry, as long as you pass this group, even if you are completely out of the government army's alert area, it will be difficult for them to find them in the wilderness."

The tall lanky man next to him gestured in sign language.

Intrigue and calculation can indeed reduce the combat power of the military in this world, but the ultimate goal can still be achieved by bloodshed.

"It's just that there are too many people who have died because of you, and those who are alive will also be charged with betraying humanity, we hope that you can return to your beautiful world, and we also know that as long as you pass through the rift, then you can easily make all this we do a useless joke.

It is true that there is an indelible hatred between my world and your world, but between me and you, there is none. There are still a lot of people around me who are not desperate, we want to see the blue sky, the clouds, the grass, and see the things that are only recorded in the history books.

I choose to believe in you.

There's no reason for it.

So, I would like to say to you in advance for those who will be able to see the blue sky. Thank you. ”

The man couldn't speak, and of course the communication in sign language was much more cumbersome than dictation, so it took the man a long time to make many, many gestures in front of Sherlock, his eyes were widely spaced, and he looked a little funny when he looked at Sherlock, but he never took his eyes off Sherlock during the whole process.

Sherlock took a deep puff of his cigarette, his chapped lips stuck to the end of the cigarette, he licked it with his tongue, and did not speak, because the other party could not hear, but made the simplest movement.

He nodded.

I don't know if I'm saying that I heard it, or if I'm saying that I'm going to save the world.

But it doesn't matter, in short, after nodding, the tall thin man in front of him smiled, smiling very happily, in fact, his height and terrifying appearance, as well as his frantic posture when killing, always make people subconsciously forget that he is just an adult child.

Sherlock also smiled, looking at the approaching chariot not far away, the fighter jets in the sky roared overhead, and the armed men beside him stood up with difficulty, clenched the guns in their hands, and prepared to start this final battle for their lives.

Time is a wonderful thing, it can turn love into indifference, it can turn the sea into mountains, it can turn a vibrant planet into a desperate bloody hell, and it can make people who are separated by 800 years become each other's most hated and incompatible mortal enemies.

On the grand stage of history, there are all kinds of people, there are endless things, this is an immeasurable number, or great, or nameless, or proud, or humble, or earth-shattering, or understated, in short, there are too many things that continue to flow with time.

But there are only a few footprints that can be left behind.

In the year 291 of the Holy Calendar, early spring.

The entire human empire was basked in the joy of victory.

Before you know it, the most magnificent expedition to hell in human history has been going on for a year.

The expeditionary team composed of the Holy See's Holy Army and the government army finally embarked on an incredible new army route on the Antarctic continent, and the high Temple of the Holy Light, after the current Pope visited in person by airship half a year ago, officially joined the expeditionary force, and constantly established the connection of the Holy Light along the way, escorting this magnificent expedition.

In this year, the wild demon control technology has evolved by leaps and bounds, and the expeditionary force has been constantly consuming in the process of moving forward, but it has become stronger and stronger, and has even reached an unprecedented level of terror, and the popularization of electric energy has also made the production of weapons on the back line, as well as the internal finances of the empire, show a very perfect trend.

In the eyes of the general public, the future has never been so exciting.

However, it seems that since one day a year ago, many people have been careful to avoid a somewhat sad topic, or a person.

This person became known to the people, also a year ago.

Until then, no one seemed to know that there was another person who was the greatest contributor to the success of the current emperor. Professor Darwin's murder detective is a major promoter of the Wild Devil's control of technology, a respected front-line fighter in the Redk Strait, and a lifesaver for Lord Nightingale.

However, as with all heroes in history.

Such a man of many honors and respect. After all, it still fell in this great era full of hope.

(End of chapter)