Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 133 Going to Death
Boom! ! !
As a fortress cannon shot hit directly above the bunker, the lights inside the room flickered.

There were only two people in the room: the businesswoman and the unlucky guy who had just been hit by her.

The priest in the black robe left with the words, "We don't have enough manpower. Watch him and don't let him go anywhere," before picking up his gun and leaving without giving the businesswoman any further instructions.

The "reporter" Cragg had his head simply wrapped in gauze, his hands were tied to a chair, and his clothes had been stripped off, leaving him only in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts.

Camera, dagger, Browning pistol, and a whole bunch of German or French newspaper clippings.

A stack of documents was tossed on the table—British, French, Belgian, and even Russian… Clearly, this gentleman had been to many places and was among the most experienced spies.

Although he looked disheveled, Mr. Cragg did not lose his composure. His hawk-like eyes scanned his surroundings, as if searching for an opportunity for revenge.

Chanel, who was sitting next to him with her knees drawn up, felt very uncomfortable being stared at.

The businesswoman glared back fiercely at him, then took out a bottle of perfume from her small suitcase, held it in her hand, and stared at the man's head, seemingly considering whether to give him another blow.

"Don't move, or I might really smash it," Chanel said, holding up a perfume bottle.

"You think you're so smart just because you're a woman?"

“At least I’m better than you, a lousy actor, and I’m not tied up.” The businesswoman retorted sharply.

"Idiot, do you think this foolish behavior will change anything?"

The man sat up straight, seemingly trying to appear more dignified, and looked Chanel in the eyes as he spoke.

"Listen to the cannon fire outside. How much longer can you hold out here?"

"Whether I succeed or not, the ultimate fate of you and those people outside is to be buried in the ground."

"Of course, as a lady you might enjoy some preferential treatment, and a prisoner-of-war camp might be a better option."

Thump! Thump! Thump!
As if to echo the man's words, two more shells landed not far away.

“Liar! We’ve been fighting here for over a month, and you’re still stuck in the same place! The priest won’t let you succeed!” Chanel couldn’t help but retort.

"Don't believe me? You have eyes, go out and see for yourself. Anyway, I'm tied up here and can't move."

"Father? Do you really know that guy? That man is..." The man stopped mid-sentence, chuckled, and closed his eyes to pretend to sleep.

A few minutes later, Krag felt his body suddenly tense up, and his limbs were very painful.

He opened his eyes and saw that the businesswoman had picked up his camera and was wrapping ropes around him.

"What are you doing?! I'm a prisoner of war, I'm an officer, I demand the treatment I deserve! You're choking me too tight! Ugh..." Before the spy could finish speaking, his mouth was also gagged with a towel.

"Now you can't run away." The woman clapped her hands in satisfaction, looking at the man in front of her who was bound like a cocoon.

"But this room is too spacious, so we'll move you to a smaller one."

Chanel pulled the other person out with the same force she used to when she was a teenager dragging sacks, glanced at the door marked "Door to the Prayer Room," and then dragged the other person behind the large iconostasis at the far end of the room and threw them down.

“This place is quite nice.” Chanel dusted off her hands, bent down, and stared at the person in front of her. “You’d better pray to God that I’m alright, otherwise no one will know you’re here.”

Chanel then took one last look at the pitiful creature in front of her and closed the door to the prayer room.

Through the bunker's passageway, Chanel, camera in hand, carefully climbed upwards.

The sound of her shoes stepping on cast iron, and the creaking of the concrete structure, mirrored her anxious and uneasy state of mind.

As soon as she pushed open the lid, almost instantly, a gust of air swept over her, making it nearly impossible for Chanel to open her eyes.

When she looked up and saw the view before her, the French woman could hardly believe her eyes.

The area that could be called a "battleground" seemed to have been flattened with a file; all that could be seen was uprooted earth.

The trenches were no longer clearly visible, and the barbed wire had been blown into pieces lying crookedly on the ground.

The air was thick with the smell of blood mixed with rubber and gunpowder, making her almost vomit. In the distance, artillery shells exploded continuously, each one causing the ground beneath her feet to tremble. Soldiers in gray uniforms and gas masks swarmed onto the position like ants.

Boom boom boom! ! !
Suddenly, a plume of white smoke rose from the unseen tunnel, and several shells landed behind the invading German forces, drawing a line.

"Fix bayonets! Drive them out!!!" a familiar voice shouted in French.

Dozens of figures suddenly appeared on the position, wearing masks and carrying bayonets, rushing towards the attacking German troops.

The two sides are locked in a fierce battle!
Because of the distance, the businesswoman couldn't hear much, but she could see that almost every few seconds, someone would fall down.

It was as if an invisible switch had been flipped. Looking at the battlefield before her, Chanel felt that tremor again, even more intense than when she was being chased by planes.

The battle in the distance was nearing its end, and the Germans in gray clothes were driven out again.

Her own soldiers retreated under artillery fire. She instinctively tried to go over, but after a few steps she suddenly slipped and stumbled and fell into a ditch.

This accident saved her life.

boom! ! !
A shell exploded not far away, and the surging shockwave swept across everything around it. Fragments of the shell flew past the spot where the woman had been standing.

Realizing she had almost become a follower of death, the feeling of hovering between life and death made the woman's face flush.

She struggled to stand up, but because her legs were too weak, she could only stick half of her body out. She tilted her head back slightly and saw a scene that made her heart race.

Amidst the smoke and dust, more than a dozen expressionless men wielding weapons emerged from the flames, the leader carrying a soldier whose chest was stained with blood.

The soldier's mask was torn, his eyes were closed, and his face was deathly pale.

The man in black robes and black hair removed his mask and pressed it onto the soldier's face.

The businesswoman instinctively picked up her camera and pressed the shutter.

Click!

Because of the backlighting, the man's face was somewhat blurry in the photo. Coincidentally, a black bird flew past behind him, its outstretched wings appearing as if it had sprouted feathers on the man's shoulders.

The priest in black robes saw the woman, picked up his comrade, and walked over. The businesswoman opened her mouth to say something, but found herself feeling somewhat dazed.

The next second, Chanel, who had inhaled a small amount of poison gas, fainted on the battlefield.

When the soldiers returned to the trenches, everyone's expression was gloomy.

To prevent German heavy artillery from clearing them out, they had to abandon their previous hit-and-run tactics and engage the German troops who had broken into the front lines, suffering heavy casualties as they drove them out.

Familiar faces kept falling in the mud and poison gas, and gas masks went from one owner to another.

No one knows if they will be alive tomorrow.

People looked at the priest in black robes, wondering if he could still pull off a miracle under these circumstances.

"Leave the sentries behind, everyone else go and rest. I need some peace and quiet." The priest in black robes waved his hand and walked alone into the dimly lit tunnel.

The sound of pages turning filled the air, and the number representing the number of wounded patients admitted to the hospital had doubled. It seemed impossible to meet the requirements for leaving.

I've been checkmated.

Pushing open the door to the prayer room, Qin Hao walked in alone.

This is his personal space, a place where he can adjust his state of mind on his own.

Looking at the holy statue before him, the man in black robes sighed and muttered to himself.

"Looks like I'm going to die again."

(End of this chapter)