Long-term salvation

"Yes."

"Even though you might actually die?"

"Yes, even so," the girl nodded. But before Rhodes fired, she looked into those serious and earnest blue eyes and hesitated for a few seconds before asking:

"Will we meet again?"

"If you're not dead, but honestly, I don't want us to meet in a place like this again, so - good night."

Rhodes pulled the trigger without hesitation. The bullet flew out of the gun, spinning into the girl's forehead and dimming her eyes.

Almost the moment the girl died, the surroundings shattered like falling glass. The pure white light at the end of the corridor was so dazzling that it was impossible to look directly at it. It rolled in like a torrent, completely engulfing Rhode. He felt the oppressive feeling of the deep sea again, but it quickly faded, giving him the strange comfort of lying on a shallow beach, watching the sunlight penetrate the water above.

[Restarting to float]

You are in Limbo

[Floating up]

The light receded and darkness came.

Rod fell into a wooden trough. It seemed to be made of hollowed-out hardwood and hated being stepped on - the hard edges hit Rod's back hard, making him gasp in pain.

"What's wrong with me..." Rhodes ignored the pain in his back. He stood up suddenly and raised his rifle, but there were only a few horses that were awakened and looked at him unkindly.

"where am I?"

[End of Floating]

You are in the real world

【Task rewards begin to be distributed】

Compared to the increasing pollution points in the other world, Rhode was more curious about what appeared in his palm:

A black eyepatch.

+ + + + + + + + +

"Head towards the direction where the cross of light appeared. We must arrive and begin the search within two hours."

"Cross? I'm sorry, Mr. Irons, but we don't see any cross."

"...get in the car, and bring me a map and a compass."

Chapter 3: Advent

The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight - New Testament, Gospel of Mark

The stable was filled with the smell of dry grass and livestock. Four horses of different colors were poking their heads out of their own stables, looking at the uninvited guy in the faint moonlight.

Rhodes stood up and walked to the door of the stable with his rifle in hand. He looked outside through the gap, but there was nothing else in sight except a house in the distance with a dim light on at the door.

Feeling a little more relaxed, Rhode leaned against the wooden door of the stable and took out the reward issued by the system. It was an eye patch for his left eye called "All-Seeing Eye". Although it was given a religious name, its function seemed extremely technological:

3D map, night vision, thermal imaging, multi-magnification aiming... plus the appearance of the black eye mask, Rhodes felt that it should really be called "Eye of Solid".

"Interesting, and why am I in Colorado, United States of America?" Rhodes looked at everything around him through the blindfold, but when he looked at the horses, the world before him had changed a bit more -

Stephen (North American Quarter Horse)

【Description：Likes taking naps and playing dead】

Attitude: Curious/Warning

Rhode looked at the white horse before him, approached and petted its strawberry steed. The horse snorted, shook its head, and retreated to its stable. The other three quarter horses of the same breed also lost interest in Rhode and returned to their previous half-sleep state, but they would no longer lie down to rest.

Seeing this, Rhode was ready to have a good sleep. His recent experiences were truly torturous. However, he had just leaned against the dry haystack when he heard the sound of footsteps.

The newcomer must be the owner of this stable and the house outside. He must be quite old, otherwise his steps would be much more brisk. He is also very likely to be carrying a gun - this is the United States of America! And on a ranch this far away from people, who would not have a gun?

Rod put down his rifle and leaned it against the haystack, then took off his outer uniform and covered himself with it, pretending to be going to sleep. Of course, there was also the indispensable:

He took the pistol out of its holster and hid it under his clothing.

Feeling the slight coolness of the handle, Rhodes narrowed his eyes and pointed the muzzle of the gun towards the stable door.

A dozen seconds later, the shaking flashlight light shone through the gap in the wooden door of the stable, accompanied by the sound of a key being inserted into the iron lock.

The wooden door creaked open, and the horses stopped pretending to sleep and poked their heads out of the stable again to look at their owners who came in.

"Oh, God!"

Angus Bob, a farmer in his seventies, saw everything clearly in front of him with the dim light of a flashlight. A handsome young man in military uniform was lying on the hay that he had loosened and dried yesterday, with fatigue on his face that was hard to conceal. A rifle was placed next to him, and some other small items such as a backpack were neatly placed.

How did this young man get into the locked stable?

Looking at the military uniform on his body, the old man did not think too much about the cause and effect. Instead, he coughed lightly, shone the flashlight on the face of the uninvited guest, and said with a hint of joking:

"Kid, get up! My stable isn't for you to sleep in!"

"If you could remove the muzzle of that hunting rifle," Rhodes opened one eye, letting the pistol in his hand bulge out noticeably under his uniform. "Of course, I'd be even more grateful if I had hot food and a soft bed."

"Greed is not a virtue, young man," the old man snorted. But as Rod had said—he moved the muzzle of the double-barreled shotgun away—"threatening an old man with a pistol is certainly not... Perhaps I should tell your superiors so that your vacation plans will be completely ruined?"

"No one can control me now, and I'm not sure there will be anyone in the future," Rhodes said, lifting his uniform and putting his pistol back into its holster as he got up from the ground. But then he seemed to remember something, saluted the old man, and said:

"Rod, 3rd Armored Division."

"The 3rd Armored Division? I remember they were supposed to be in the area where the Germans were. Occasionally, there would be news on the radio about them confronting the Soviets."

"Oh! Yes, I'm just training nearby - you know, just like the Boy Scouts going camping, except I need to walk through a whole grassland and forest, and maybe even climb several mountains, just like Tarzan. By the way, let me ask you something," Rhodes shook off the weeds on his military uniform, reached into his shirt and pulled out a few hard grass stubbles, then asked casually:

"What time is it now?"

"Just six minutes past midnight."

"No, no, no, I mean, what month and day is it today?" Rhodes armed himself again and put his rifle back on his back. "It would be better if you could tell me the year."

"Your question sounds strange..."

"Time, thank you." Rhodes looked at the old man, his blue eyes seemed to have a strange magic. "I hope I can get the answer to this question."

"... December 25, 1989. Today is Christmas."

1989 years?

【Time point has been anchored】

【System update begins, mainline tasks are issued】

[Main Mission: Waiting]

[Mission Description: Join your allies]

New mission, and this mission description is very interesting.

"Thank you for your answer," Rhode nodded. He wasn't in the mood to think about time now. He started to walk out, but just as he started, he stepped back and said shyly, "I don't have any money, but I can trade what I have... Um, today is Christmas, isn't it?"

"Well, you weirdo who never tells the truth," muttered Old Angus. He looked at Rhodes again. He looked just like the soldiers on TV, only more immature. "Come with me, but only for today. You have to leave at daybreak because I plan to get some sleep. If I wake up to see the trough in the sheep pen filled up, I might be happy to drink some rum from the cellar."

“Then the trough in your sheep pen will certainly be filled,” Rod responded with a smile.

The old man's facial muscles moved, and Rhodes tentatively considered it a smile.

The two men walked out of the stable one after the other. Rhodes walked to a distance and watched the old man lock the stable. Then he shook the flashlight at him and shone the light on the house where the lights were already on.

Rhodes then walked towards the house, with moonlight pouring down from above, illuminating his way.

Approaching the house, Rod looked up at it, isolated in the wilderness. It wasn't old, but at least it had been renovated in the past two years. It looked like brick and stone on the outside, possibly concrete on the inside. Its white color, reflecting the moonlight, made it look particularly beautiful. A metal sign above the door read "Angus Bob & Marlene Bob." Not far to the left of the house was a vegetable garden and a wooden shed, likely used to store farm tools. On the other side, an old red Jeep Gladiator pickup truck was parked.

"My children all live in big cities. Young people don't like raising sheep in this hellish place. They like television, rock stars, and newspapers full of gossip." The old man walked over to Rod's side, holding his knees and panting for a few times. "They said they wanted to take me over, but I refused. I hate noisy cities. This place is fine."

Rhodes nodded slightly. He did not tactlessly ask about the old man's wife's current situation.

"Are you allergic to anything? Peanuts or something like that," the old man stretched out his hand to open the door, then turned back to look at Rhodes:

"What are you waiting for? Are you feeling shy now?"

"No, sir."

"I don't think you will either. Come in. Just so you know, I only have beans for you to eat."

Ten minutes later, Rod gratefully cut off a piece of lamb chop with a knife and stuffed it into his mouth.

The lamb chops were sprinkled with only some coarse salt and roughly stuffed into the oven to be roasted for the perfect time. The deliciousness of the meat and the aroma of charcoal fire made it unique. Just smelling the wonderful aroma of the roasted fat was enough to make Rhodes burst into tears.

After eating a small piece of lamb chops, while the aroma of meat was still in his mouth, Rhodes used a fork to pick up the pickled vegetables beside it - they were just the most ordinary pickled radish, but at this time they just diluted the greasy taste brought by the fat - before he finished chewing the radish in his mouth, he couldn't wait to stuff another piece of chopped lamb into his mouth, and hummed with satisfaction.

"Here, rum," the old man brought two cups, poured one for himself and one for Rhodes, and then looked at the latter with regret as he drank the amber liquor in one gulp.

"Eat slowly," the old man lowered his head and began to enjoy his dinner. It was not lamb chops but two pieces of soft brown bread with a bowl of corn soup with a milky aroma. "My name is Angus, Angus Bob. What's your name?"

"Rod," Rod said vaguely.

"Lord?"

"What? No, Rod!"

"Road?"

"ROD, Rod," Rod swallowed the food in his mouth and sighed, "Is there any cheese? Anyway, today is Christmas, why don't we have turkey? A normal chicken will do, roast it until it's charred, and preferably with a layer of chili sauce."

"There's no such thing! You should thank me for eating lamb chops."

"Shouldn't you thank God first?"

"Then thank God first, and then thank me!"

The old man in front of Rhodes seemed furious. He glared at Rhodes, then stood up, pulled out a few plump corns from the closet, topped them with some cheese of the same color, and threw them into the oven. When the corn came out of the oven, an aroma distinct from that of lamb chops immediately filled the room.

"There's only corn. I didn't make cheese this year. I'm old and don't want to move." The old man stirred the soup with a spoon, taking a sip from time to time. When the soup was half gone, he tore up some bread and threw it in so that it could absorb the soup. "You can sleep on the sofa tonight. The firewood and coal are in the small basket next to it. If you don't want to wake up from the cold, you'd better add more firewood."

"Well, thank you for your generosity."

Rod finished the last piece of lamb chop, stuffed the remaining pickled radish into his mouth, and after a swig of wine, he reached out to take out the M9 pistol from its holster, unloaded the magazine, and ejected the bullets from the chamber, placing them all on the table. Then, meeting the old man's raised eyebrows, he smiled and said:

"A 9mm M9 pistol and 15 rounds of ammunition. The military purchase price is at least $200. I think it should cover my accommodation and travel expenses. Don't worry about anyone bothering you. They don't have the time... Well, just consider it something I left at your house."

"Nice gun," the old man took the pistol and examined it carefully, "but it looks like you fired it once."

"Why, I shot a fawn through the head."

Rhodes said casually, thinking of the girl with emerald eyes, who had a pitiful sadness - as she lay in a pool of blood, she showed a stunning beauty.

"Is it."

The old man didn't delve into it. He was just an old and lonely shepherd. He didn't bother to think about whether there was a forest with wild deer living nearby... How could there be a forest!

The two of them didn't talk much for the next few minutes. Only the crisp sounds of spoons and forks scraping across porcelain plates echoed in the small kitchen. When the meal was over, the old man stacked his plates and reached into his pocket to pull out a box of yellow cigarettes with a red apple printed on the front and a green worm with a human face emerging from it.

Red Apple cigarettes, that's what it says on the box, and it sounds like something out of a movie.

The old man took out a somewhat shriveled cigarette and put it in his mouth. Just as he was about to light it, he saw Rhodes looking straight at him.

"..."

"...Ahem, Mr. Bob," Rhodes coughed a few times in a pretentious manner and spread out his palms. "Everyone who sees it shall have a share."

The next second, a cigarette and a match were thrown into Rhodes's palm, which made him say with a smile on his face:

"Thank God, and the generous Mr. Bob."

"That's all. I won't go to town to buy anything until the day after tomorrow," said the elderly Mr. Bob, shaking his head. He yawned and stood up. Staying up late was still too much for an old man. As he reached the stairs to the second floor, he turned to Rhode as if remembering something. "Just leave the plate there. If you wake up early and want to leave, remember to close the door. There's definitely no Santa Claus or elves delivering gifts here."

"Okay, sir," Rhodes nodded slightly. He noticed that the gun and bullets on the table had been taken away by the old man.

Rhodes lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. His blurred memories slowly drifted upwards with the smoke.

The creaking sound of the wooden stairs gradually faded until it completely disappeared. Rod, taking a final puff of his cigarette, turned off the kitchen light and walked into the living room. He saw that the flames in the fireplace had grown dim, only a hint of warmth remained. A basket nearby was neatly stacked with chopped firewood and a few tattered pieces of cotton cloth—they looked like they were being used as kindling.

After letting the fire in the fireplace burn brightly again, Rhodes took his backpack and rifle and placed them next to the sofa. He simply took off his coat, covered himself with the blanket on the soft chair next to him, and fell asleep.

But before deep sleepiness came over Rhode's eyes, a strange idea suddenly popped up in his mind:

Have you ever smoked before?

Some memories told him [yes], but some said [no].

Rhodes closed his eyes and stopped thinking about these questions - he was tired and needed to rest.

In a trance, he felt as if he was back in the hospital corridor, but this time, it was really just a dream.

In his dream, there were still a pair of emerald eyes looking at him.