Abyss Train

Chapter 788 CountDown② [Spectra]

Foreword:

The sounds of iron rods and shovels hitting stones could be heard everywhere, and everywhere one could see backs bent over by intense labor.

Winter is coming. People are still working hard in the ice and snow, digging up the frozen soil. As long as we keep going, we will definitely build this railway.

This is how steel is tempered!

"Where do I begin? Where do I begin? This long and amazing story?"

Wood Plak held the thick book in his hands. He still had a lot of publicity work to do. From the 800 warriors who landed in Sendai Prefecture to the final decisive battle to attack the mountain, there were too many incredible experiences, too many mysterious and fantastic adventures - all recorded in the heavy paper documents.

Whether it is external propaganda or internal propaganda, it is very important to explain this battle to people properly, rigorously and appropriately.

No one could help him. As the representative of the Gate of All Wonders, Mr. Luo Ping'an hurried back to the Xia Bang court to meet the emperor and discuss diplomatic issues at Hongfa Temple after confirming that the battle was over yesterday morning.

This was actually more of a shock than a surprise to the Shambhala Empire.

——It’s like a patient with advanced cancer who hasn’t spread completely and still has a chance of survival. Suddenly, a professional medical team jumps out from the bushes to perform surgery on the patient. The knife goes straight to the lesion, and after the operation, they run away before they even finish suturing the patient.

  The old emperor of the Great Xia Empire finally said goodbye to the "national teacher" appointed by successive dynasties. This spiritual Buddha had outlasted one emperor after another, and he had encroached on the government and the country but was too lazy to kick the emperor off the throne.

In order to reduce management costs, Judah only needed such a proxy emperor to make the ministers who governed the various departments and states understand that bloodline determined status and only the dragon race could sit on the throne.

The Sword of Morality once again returned to Xia Tianzi's hands. As for how the story would unfold afterwards, that was not something Aohen Mingde could decide.

Just as primitive tribes still exist on the surface of the earth, these "primitive people" who are hungry and poorly clothed in the eyes of civilized people cannot rush towards the industrialized and modernized atomic energy age and the information age overnight.

The waves rose and fell, and Mr. Wood's body swayed up and down with the bumpy boat.

He couldn't hold the pen steadily, so he simply held the book, wanting to carefully read the secrets between the lines - he wanted to read it again.

It was he who created the symbol of "gunsmith", and now the gunsmith has come back to life again, but he won't live long. In fifty or sixty years at most, this legendary hero will grow old and have to accept physical death.

  So in the next era, in the next harvest season, who will be the lucky one to take over the stick of the anonymous person?

Which unlucky guy, who died from overwork, needs to take on the responsibility of protecting the people?

It needs the irrigation of iron and blood, a burning soul and an indestructible will, as well as a calm heart.

At this moment, an evil shadow slowly moved in the cabin.

——That is the follower of Lingguang Buddha, who uses evil magic and soul power and always follows Wood Prak.

Mr. Wood had no idea that he had always been a weak scholar who was not good at frontal combat, and killing the enemy in battle was definitely not his strong point.

This cold and strange shadow gradually turned into a human form, becoming a chaotic and blurry image of a man.

His two blood-red eyes were filled with hatred and ferocity, as if they were tortured by the sun. He wanted to blame all this on the treacherous schemes of Wood Pluck.

This member of the Unified Church knew the whole story and how Patriarch Judas died. Without Wood Prucker, there would be no subsequent events.

The evil minion was unwilling to give up, nor did he want to rely on the light-avoiding soul power to continue to survive. He just wanted Wood to pay the price - but when he actually saw the man reading at the desk, he backed off.

The sunlight shone on Wood Plack's resolute face, and under the shadow of the sunglasses, his blue eyes turned brown - the man frowned slightly, concentrating on turning the next page of the story, his focused and determined expression was like that of Guan Gong, who was awe-inspiring without even being angry.

All this frightened the assassin lurking in the dark. He did not dare to approach Wood, let alone act rashly.

Half an hour later, Wood still didn't notice anything unusual in the cabin. He reached out to grab the coffee cup, but the frost froze the skin on his thumb - only then did he become alert and realize that the psychic tide in the environment was so fierce.

"Wood! Wood Plaque!"

Seeing that he was about to be exposed, the assassin became confused - once he was confused, he was about to speak, and once he spoke, his true identity would naturally be revealed.

Mr. Wood felt his hands lighten, and before he knew it, the heavy combat records disappeared.

The book just hung in the air, as if an invisible ghost was holding it.

"Wood Prak!" The assassin's tone was timid, but he wanted to bluff: "What are you doing? Wood Prak?"

Wood took off his sunglasses. He had clairvoyance, but was surprised to find that he could not see the enemy.

"Are you a member of the Guiyi Sect who slipped through the net? No, that's not right. You have this superpower of hiding your body. Are you a member of the Immortal Alliance?"

The assassin did not answer.

——His soul power is too weak to be used in frontal combat, but it is perfect for saving his life.

Compared to John`D's BUG-level ability to erase his presence, this assassin can only attach a layer of special protective color that completely refracts light to the surface of his body or clothing. He is a perfect chameleon.

"What do you want to do, Wood Prak?" The assassin stammered. He was not a well-known talent in the alliance, but Patriarch Judas would not give up any partner who could be used.

"What are you going to do?"

The man hugged the combat record and suddenly became proud and ostentatious.

"Patriarch Judas is dead!~ You still want to slander him? You still want to harm his reputation? Still..."

Before he could finish his words, a stream of blood splashed onto the assassin's body - it was the tracer that Wood Pluck had splashed out after cutting his palm.

"Ahhh!" The assassin held the book in one hand and his chin in the other, staring at the sticky blood with horror. The blood reflected the vague outline of his body, like a GD member who took off his mask and exposed himself in front of the camera, an Internet clown who was stripped of his clothes, and was broken by the weapon in the box. He was too embarrassed to face people. "Don't mess with me! Despicable bug!"

Most of the brave followers of the Guiyi sect died under the knife of the anonymous butcher.

——The cowards who can live to this time are mostly incompetent rats, which is also in line with the law of natural selection. It is not the survival of the strong, but the survival of the fittest.

Wood: "Put your things down and don't disturb me while I'm working."

Assassin: "Don't even think about it! I won't let your evil plan succeed! Wood Pluck! ~"

Wood: "Put the things down, I advise you to be kind."

The assassin's legs were shaking, but he said stubbornly, "I wanted to take your life! Since you beg me so much, and you have been fighting with Patriarch Judas for so many years, it's also a sign of heroes respecting heroes."

Wood: “Are we really speaking the same language?”

Assassin: "I will spare your life for now! But I must take this book away! Anyone who slanders Patriarch Judas will be dealt with with an iron fist! No tolerance!"

Wood: "I'm going to say this one last time. You really, really, should put that journal down."

The blood and books suddenly floated out of the ship. The assassin held on to the historical evidence that "slandered" the priest. With these stories, he could return to the West, or find a cave in Xiabang to hide, and re-compile a set of blood butterfly Bibles, and re-tell a completely different story to the kind and simple but information-blocked natives - he still had a chance to become an immortal.

He dove headfirst into the sea of ​​Pompeii and swam hard toward Shambhala. The blood on his face was washed away, and he became a new man again - he could start over without having to face the horrific monster on the ship.

The crew heard the shouting and followed to Mr. Wood's cabin.

"What's wrong? Prak?"

Wood shook his head, put on his sunglasses again, and gave the boatmen a thumbs up.

"Nothing! It's alright!"

He pressed the detonator switch and saw a brilliant splash of water appearing on the sea surface far away from the stern of the ship.

——The fragments of the book pages are like petals, floating in the tide of history. The witness took out another set of backup files from under the table, muttering like a woman full of complaints.

"All my notes were in vain. Are these assassins always so brave? Doesn't he know I know Kung Fu?"

Three full days have passed since Aohen Mingde made his wish.

——The distance between the two suns is getting closer and closer.

They originally orbited in a figure-of-eight pattern, sailing between the eastern and western continents of Shambhala and many island groups in a 8-hour system.

But the new Lord of Fire had been speeding up, and the fiery incarnation of four million creatures slowly caught up with Io.

Just as Wood Plak was about to take a break from work, come to the side of the ship to look at the sea view, and was about to breathe a sigh of relief.

The two scorching fireballs almost melted the white paint on the ship's planks, and the crew members were too hot to look up. Wood Prak had sunglasses to protect his eyes. He stared at the party A of the life contract, spying on the source of the curse.

When they collided, a low hum was heard from far away.

The sun was merging and unifying, but it did not burst out with greater energy. Instead, the temperature gradually returned to normal, falling from 32 degrees Celsius at the beginning of winter to 24 degrees Celsius.

The sky and the earth of Shambhala were originally white, and gradually changed back to a state of alternating light and darkness, day and night - after a very, very long time, after a very, very long time, the new sun gradually flew away.

  Wood Prak didn't know whether this was good or bad, was Io still alive?

Does this goddess who summoned heroes from another world still retain consciousness? Will she continue to eat people?

Will all the disasters caused by [God’s Will] end now?

These unknowns are closely related to his fate.

The next crucial question follows.

"Depend on!"

  If he dies again on Saturday, will the contract with Baphomet still be valid?

"What if I don't survive?"

He was freed from the nihilistic feeling of being unable to die.

On the other hand, the gunsmith also encountered some trouble.

After boarding the Chinook helicopter, they went all the way to pick up Hasben and Wen Bucai, and brought every driver of the mobile team back to Black Wind Town. Then they gradually withdrew their troops and returned to Adulis, where he had to separate from the main team.

The reason for doing this is that the Organization Department wants to leave the gunsmith a suitable way out.

The legendary hero has to give up his name again and become Zhang Congfeng again, or live with a new identity.

Jiang Xueming has not been idle these days. He returned to the transport team with the students and has been helping to transport weapons and equipment and working as a boatman at the dock - he just can't sit still and wants to be with these younger brothers and sisters and these soldiers.

Because in a few days, he would return home, put down his guns and knives, remove his armor, pick up his fishing gear again, and drive his pickup truck - thinking of these things he began to cry, and the corners of his mouth would unconsciously curl up, turning him into a crooked-mouthed dragon king.

It is really inappropriate to call these elite soldiers who have experienced many battles "little soldiers", but in the eyes of the gunsmith, these quick-sword soldiers who came out of Galahad or joined the army from ordinary people are all his partners, his students - all his like-minded treasures.

At first, the Organization Department asked the gunsmith to evacuate early, but the gunsmith did not agree. He left without saying goodbye last time, which had already made many people cry, but these tears could not be shed in vain.

So he wanted to say goodbye properly - but the hundred or so soldiers in the same armed transport team cried even harder this time.

These girls and boys gathered at the Sendai Port dock. When it was time to change shifts, they did not go to rest. Instead, they stayed beside the rickshaw drivers in the reception area, sat on the stone platform railings of the dock, and watched their teachers moving military supplies from afar.

There were also people from different combat groups who came to the cargo ship’s dock. They pulled the teacher over and hugged her like a baby. But they didn’t take photos, because they all knew that the teacher was going to “die” again.

There are so many people, so many people.

There are so many people, so many people.

Countless people, countless things.

Different stones glowed with different colors, and he was surrounded by colorful spectra and spirits.

"Teacher! Goodbye!"

"Goodbye! Goodbye, teacher!"

"I'm back with the Panda Group! Teacher!"

"Goodbye! Teacher! Love you!"

"Gunsmith Master! Goodbye!"

"Ace! Goodbye!"

"See you later, teacher!"

"Can the Luna Cup still see you? Referee!?"

"Hold me again! Hold me again! Hold me longer!"

It seems that everyone is questioning Brother Seven, understanding Brother Seven, and becoming Brother Seven.

Let time go slower, let time go slower. There are too many things I can't bear to let go of. There are too many things I can't bear to let go of.

If possible, perhaps [Regret Medicine] can allow us to read this story again.

"Help me!~ Leader! Help me!~ It's too heavy!~"

Jason and the Gunsmith act out puppy dog ​​behavior.

Arriving at the cargo terminal for the dangerous goods and spiritual disaster catalysts—

——The gunsmith began to accept the shipment of goods as usual and read the list on the cargo column.

He carefully took the Dagda's cauldron from Mr. Jason and carried the heavy cauldron.

He inadvertently wanted to call on Hunwei for help, but Fragrance Dream just popped its head out and helped the gunsmith.

In just a moment, the dark golden holy grail was suddenly like ice and snow meeting the sun, and was swallowed into the fragrant and dreamy spirit by a huge suction force.

Jason was stunned, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

  Such a big pot, it disappeared just like that!

Jiang Xueming first touched the air a few times, just like Tom was deceiving himself when he was moving some important item that had disappeared - then he slowly turned around and forced out an awkward smile.

"Have you bought cargo damage insurance? Have you paid for the freight?"

Jason Megan saw that there was no one around, so he whispered to the leader.

"Why don't we talk to the boss?"

Jiang Xueming nodded——

"—accidentally dropped it in the desert."