This Game Is Too Realistic Chapter 924: The place where the expedition was launched was crowded

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"Long live Julius!!!"

"Long live the Marshal!!"

"Long live Julius!!!"

"..."

Triumph City.

This is the place where thousands of Velant people put their spirits and beliefs into battle, and it is also the heart of the giant that occupies two-thirds of the world.

At this moment, this city covering an area of ​​hundreds of square kilometers is echoing with the shouts of millions of people.

People stood on the street, holding torches in their hands, venting all their emotions in the chorus of shouts.

That's their leader's name.

It is also their belief!

In his name, they conquered countless worlds and conquered tens of millions of square kilometers of land.

And now, they just want him to wake up...

Glory Academy.

This is the tallest building in the entire Triumph City. It is also the marshal's residence and the residence of the Imperial Guard.

Thousands of steps lift the arch, which is more than ten meters high, from the ground. Hundreds of years of wind and rain have left traces of time on the magnificent marble relief.

A century ago, in order to commemorate the founding of the Triumphal City and their hard-won freedom, the Wilantites leveled a marble mountain and built this magnificent wonder.

This is not only their gift to Marshal Julius, but also a monument built to commemorate the opening of a great era.

At this moment, the burning sparks formed endless rivers at its feet, like the pulse of a giant.

Where the sparks and gazes converged, a tall man with piercing eyes straightened his back and the bridge of his nose was not high.

Yes.

He is not from Weiland, just like the man who disappeared a hundred years ago.

Although none of them are from Wilante, the beautiful qualities they possess are also what the Wilante people yearn for.

For example, be brave.

For example, loyalty.

For example, not afraid of power and so on.

It is precisely because of these similarities but differences that he, without the heavy historical baggage, can say what the people of Valant are thinking but would never say.

"...Since you don't want to say anything and don't know what to say, then just call his name!"

"All survivors who are suffering! All survivors who do not yield to authority! Let the gods in your hearts hear your pious cries! Let him open his eyes and see what is happening under his feet! ”

"Let us also see who is afraid! Who is afraid! Who is trembling, who doesn't want him to wake up the most!"

The battlefield atmosphere team clenched their fists and shouted at the bustling crowd.

Pairs of passionate eyes looked at him, and the loud shouts were his response.

The entire Triumph City guard force was dispatched, including the city defense troops stationed in the city.

However, even if all of them added up, they would not be able to surround the surging crowd.

It's not just that.

Some guards and soldiers even joined the crowd.

They didn't do anything wrong, they just called Julius' name.

In the Legion, Julius means the right thing.

No Valiant person will question the loyalty he has spent his life practicing.

In other words, no matter how shameless a scum is, a scoundrel who regards the marshal and loyalty as a tool for personal gain, he cannot be forgiven for the heartfelt feelings towards Marshal Julius from a Wilant man. Loyal and ordered the arrest of this man.

Loyalty!

That's not just something the people of Valant take pride in.

It is also the source of their legitimacy!

When the singing is no longer singing, and the cheering is no longer cheering, this invincible sword of authority finally stabs back like a boomerang.

It was not just the faction represented by the Southern Legion that was speechless. The other three legions and even the civil service group were all at a loss at this moment.

After all, none of them had the full confidence to say that they were absolutely innocent, and that they did not use the name of marshal to coerce the Weiland people and distort the latter's mission.

It is no exaggeration to say that the guy named "Pangolin" has offended almost every interest group he could offend...even the civil service group that sympathized with him and helped him.

Except for the people.

In other words, those ordinary people living in the Legion who have been ignored for a long time.

That was the only group he didn't offend.

More than that, he stood firmly with them.

And they never left him behind.

Wealant people can be suppressed, but they will never abandon their heroes.

Whether he is a Valantian or not.

And this is also the biggest difference between the Weiland people and the rat people, snake people, horse people, etc.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Brockett had a cigarette **** in his mouth, and there were more falling at his feet.

"...I have been working as a guard for twenty years, and this is the first time I have seen so many people calling that adult's name at the same time."

Standing aside was his colleague, a centurion who had retired from the front line.

The wrinkles and scars can no longer be distinguished on that old face with crisscrossed ravines, and the years carved on it are like the growth rings of a tree.

But compared to Brockett, he was much more open-minded. He just squinted his eyes and smiled.

"Marshal, I don't believe you haven't heard this sentence. Anyway, I talk about it every day."

Brockett glanced at him, then looked at the crowd not far away, and murmured in a low voice.

"I said at the same time."

And...

Can that kind of casual catchphrase be compared with the scene in front of me?

Not to mention there are so many people here.

Looking at the excited crowd, he gradually felt a heat in his back, and he suddenly had the intention to join this group of lunatics after his shift was over.

Maybe the marshal can really be called out by them?

This is not impossible.

Most people cannot live that long, but there are still a series of technologies in the world such as "cryo-sleep" and "DNA telomere repair".

Birth, old age, illness and death are difficult for ordinary people to get rid of, but for that adult, there are many ways.

The more Brockett thought about it, the more excited he became.

However, at this moment, a group of soldiers with guns and live ammunition came over.

His colleague poked him in the shoulder.

Brockett woke up with a start, and then looked at the group of armed soldiers and the captain standing in front of them.

The captain stared at him expressionlessly and scolded him in a cold voice.

"Get out of the way!"

I don’t know where the courage came from to support his spine. Brockett did not retreat, but narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?"

Holding the brim of the officer's hat, the man stared at him and raised the bridge of his nose slightly.

"Gladstone, captain of the 110,000th city defense force, who are you?"

"Brockett, Centurion of the Golden Griffin Street Law Enforcement Detachment of the Triumph City Guards," looking at Captain Gladstone with contempt in his eyes, Brockett raised his chin like him, " What if I say no?"

Hearing the rejection, Captain Gladstone was stunned for two seconds, and then stared at him fiercely.

"This is an order from the commander of Tyr's army! Do you want to rebel?"

Listening to that arrogant voice, Brockett was unmoved and even sneered.

"Commander of the Tire Army? Ha, I don't remember the person I swore allegiance to is him. If you want to lick his asshole, you don't have to take me with you. But if you want to disobey His Majesty the Marshal's will, then follow my instructions Just step over the corpse."

"You guy..." A soldier stepped forward angrily, his hand already on his waist.

He was about to walk up and teach this ignorant guard a lesson, but was stopped by the officer on the side with his hand.

Captain Gladstone took a step forward, narrowing his eyes and staring at Brockett who refused to give in.

The sight is like the front paws of a wolf.

After cruising around for a while, he said in a very soft voice.

"Think about your family, especially your child... I guess he should be a military cadet. Are you sure you want to make an enemy of the Confederate Army? Put your future on him for such a thing."

"Haha, did you finally use this trick?" Brockett looked at him mockingly, flicking the finished cigarette **** to the front of his boots, "My family doesn't need you dogs to worry about, they are Brave warriors, they will only be proud of my choice today."

Brockett didn't know that someone in Boulder City, tens of thousands of kilometers away from Triumph City, had also said these words.

The choices of heroes always coincide with each other, even if they are not in the same position.

Looking at this incompetent guard, Gladstone was furious and wanted to go up and tear this guy apart.

But he couldn't do that.

The Triumph City is not the domain of the Southern Legion, and the positions of the other three legions and the civil service group have to be taken into consideration.

If he doesn't want to become cannon fodder in a factional struggle.

Just when he was in a dilemma, a voice suddenly came from the communication channel.

That was the voice of the Chief of Staff of the Southern Army.

"...Retreat."

Gladston was stunned for a moment.

"But——"

"The commander of the Praetorian Guard came out."

The Praetorian Guards!

Hearing this word, a trace of fear finally flashed across Gladstone's face, and he subconsciously looked at the stairs at the end of the crowd.

A looming figure was standing at the end of the stairs, looking down at the crowded urban areas.

Although the Praetorian Guards rarely appear in the political situation of the Triumph City, everyone knows that they are the eyes of His Majesty the Marshal and are responsible for conveying the Marshal's will.

If the guards are priests who serve the gods, then the leader of the guards is like a chief priest.

Few people know that the commander of the Imperial Guard is actually the commander of the legion.

It’s just that because this legion commander is as mysterious as the marshal, he almost never appears in the public eye.

So in most contexts, people default to there being only four legion commanders.

It only took Gladstone a moment to figure out the stakes. He glared hatefully at the insecure guard in front of him, waved his hand and retreated with his confidants.

Looking at Gladstone escaping in despair, Brockett couldn't help but raise his eyebrows proudly.

What a captain of ten thousand.

Nothing more than that!

However, now that the choice has been made, there is no way back.

Looking back at the thousands of compatriots standing behind him, Brockett grinned.

After spending the first half of his life in a state of confusion, it was only now that he finally understood his mission.

What he defends and is loyal to should never be the authority of a certain person or group of people.

But order.

And the dignity of all Willantians.

At this time, the voices of his colleagues came to his ears.

"Your Majesty, Marshal...is the commander of the Guards!"

"Leize..." The old guard's pupils shrank to a point, his face was full of disbelief, and he muttered, "He is actually still alive..."

Hearing those incredible exclamations, Brockett raised his head sharply, looked beyond the crowd, and saw the old man standing on the thousands of steps and under the marble arch.

He was covered in a scarlet robe, and his ravaged face was marked with age spots, but the golden-yellow powered armor was lifelike.

The noise in the city stopped, and everyone looked at him.

Those thousands of eyes were full of surprise and astonishment like Brockett, and they were also full of fear and fear like Gladstone.

Excitement, fear, joy, anger and even countless expressions that are difficult to describe in words fill the pictures of all living beings with different looks.

The only thing that remains unchanged is the burning torch.

Everyone is waiting for his answer.

Leize slowly lowered his head, his cloudy and sharp pupils like those of a vulture.

His eyes fell on the heads of everyone, and finally stopped on the man standing under the stone steps.

The man named Pangolin also looked at him without hesitation, waiting like the others.

The whole world seems to have pressed the pause button, and it seems as if a century has passed.

Just when the Battlefield Atmosphere Team started to wonder whether the server was stuck, the old man finally broke the silence and spoke slowly.

"When I was a child, Marshal Julius told me... that one day in the future, a young man who looks different from all of us will come here from a land that the Legion has not yet conquered. , standing on the steps of the Hall of Glory, telling the Weirant people another meaning of loyalty..."

"He didn't tell us the meaning."

The sound was not loud, even weak, like a kite that could be torn off at any time, but it was so clear and firm in the silent night.

The battlefield atmosphere team held their breath, staring at the old man in power armor on the thousand steps, listening quietly to every word he said, for fear of missing a word.

His intuition told him that half of his feet were already on the finish line of his mission.

This was just a joke, a hidden mission that was so long that he almost forgot what his real ID was, and now it is finally complete!

However, halfway through speaking, the old man suddenly stopped talking, and his pupils, immersed in memories, became clear again.

"...It seems that you are the person the marshal is waiting for."

After saying this, he turned around and walked towards the ten-meter-high arch behind him.

"Come with me."

"I'll take you to see him."

……

A century has passed since Marshal Julius disappeared from public view.

Or to be more precise, a century and 14 years have passed.

No one told the Vaillant people where their respected marshal had gone or if he was still alive.

The loyal guards are like the statue in front of the Hall of Valor, guarding the Glory Academy for hundreds of years.

Now someone has finally found the key to that door and is ready to reveal the final answer to those looking up to it.

"I hope Lord Julius is still alive..." An old man held up the torch in his hand, opened and closed his withered lips, and prayed silently, "I hope he can guide the way forward for us who are lost."

Some people were silent, just watching the guy walking up the steps.

114 years...

If that adult is really still alive, he might be over 200 years old.

Instead of hoping that he is still alive, it is better to hope that he has hidden his wisdom in a drawer of his desk.

Penny, who was standing in the crowd, couldn't help clenching her fists and praying silently in her heart.

But unlike others around her, she was not praying for the marshal's well-being, or for some once-and-for-all solution that the man left under his desk.

After all, whether that kind of thing exists or not, it was something that was decided a long time ago.

Nothing changes whether she prays or not.

However, although she did not believe in the power of prayer itself, she believed in him who could bring so many people together.

Miracles have happened countless times.

Let it happen again!

Just as the battlefield atmosphere team followed the footsteps of the Guards Corps Commander Lei Ze and walked towards the arch at the top of the stairs, a secret meeting was being held in a secret room in the New World on the other side of the West Sea.

The people sitting here are all senior officials of the Western Legion.

Different from other Weirantians.

They are born adventurers and sailors who dare to fight against huge waves.

Rather than waiting for others to decide the fate of the Valantians, they prefer to make their own choices.

In front of the conference table.

A man with an upturned beard put his right fist on the table, stared at the picture on the holographic screen and said angrily.

"These idiots... don't they know that this is the scene that His Majesty the Marshal least wants to see?"

His name is Enoch, and he is a three-star captain of ten thousand men affiliated with the Western Legion.

As an academic officer who almost joined the Praetorian Guard, he was confident that he understood Lord Julius better than anyone else.

Although the Wilant man often talks about the lord's name, he knows very well that the marshal actually does not want his children to do this.

To use the adult's original words, he looked like a child who had not grown up.

Of course.

Although he said this, what he was afraid of in his heart was actually another thing.

What if these guys really wake up the Marshal?

Even if this probability is very small, it is not impossible after all.

He once heard a rumor that when the survivors of the entire Triumph City were shouting Julius's name, Marshal Julius would put on his armor and walk out of the Academy of Glory and lead the Weillant people to eliminate All the guys who enslaved them.

If the legendary story really happened, he simply couldn't imagine what it would be like.

At least, the "River Valley People", "Jinchuan People" and "Haiya People" did not enslave the Weilant people, and even if they did, it was an old thing during the War and Construction Committee period...

Enoch looked nervously at the legion commander sitting at the head of the conference table, hoping he could say or do something.

However, the legion commander sitting there did not say anything. Instead, Captain Cliff Wan, who was sitting opposite him, interrupted.

"But now it does happen."

Unlike Captain Enoch, he is only a two-star Captain.

But one thing they have in common is that they are all Wilrantians from Triumph City and graduated from the military academy there.

Enoch cast a stunned look at him, and then his eyes narrowed to a slit.

"What do you mean..."

Cliff responded to his gaze without backing up and speaking in an unflinching tone.

"I mean, we are all responsible for how things turned out. Touch your heart, is there really anything there other than power?"

Enoch stood up angrily.

"Cliff, you want to betray us? Betray everyone sitting here?"

Cliff also stood up, took off the medal on his chest, and slapped it on the conference table.

"There is only one person who is worthy of my loyalty from beginning to end, and all the people of Willant."

There is actually no difference between the two.

It was not just Cliff who got up, but also three other captains of ten thousand.

They kept every medal they had received from the New World, except those belonging to Triumph City, and then walked out of the conference room with their heads held high.

Enoch gritted his teeth and stared at the backs of those guys as they left, clenching his fists fiercely, and did not sit down angrily until the door closed.

"These cowards..."

Now, only the Western Legion faction is left in this room, and the officers of Triumph City have completely broken with them.

No need to ask, they will probably take a boat back to Triumph City to greet the so-called marshal.

As for whether to tamper with their ship, that is a matter that can only be decided by the legion commander, not by him, a three-star captain of ten thousand men.

Another captain sitting not far from him snorted coldly and said in a slow voice.

"Maybe he is a smart speculator... It is already 214 years of the Wasteland Era. No one really thinks that His Majesty the Marshal is still alive."

The other person across the conference table whispered.

"What will happen if he is gone?"

"I don't know," the Chief of Staff of the General Staff shook his head and said the first sentence since the meeting began in an intriguing tone. "Before the box is opened, no one knows what escaped from it. What color is a mouse?"

But one thing is foreseeable, the great migration of the Weilant people is about to begin.

The Vaillantians loyal to the Marshal will return to Triumphal City, and the Vaillantians loyal to the Power will head south.

Of course, this is not their only option.

Those who are keen on tradition can also go to the Eastern Legion or the Northern Legion.

And if they are tired of endless choices and traditional rules, they can also go to the New World.

This is not necessarily a bad thing for the Western Legion.

They had tribunes, citizens' assemblies, and many other things that were not found in the old world.

No matter how they shuffle the cards this time, they will never lose money, at most they will make less money.

There were constant whispers in the secret room.

Everyone was exchanging opinions with each other, imagining the Western Legion’s choices in this changing situation and the many possibilities in the future.

Only the legion commander sitting at the head of the conference table had an unknown secret in his eyes.

No one knows what he is thinking.

Even his confidants.

But everyone knows that this distinguished man has made his decision.

Not only him, but other legion commanders as well.

The Weirant people have stood at the crossroads of destiny.

It's time to make a choice...

(End of this chapter)