Silent Crown Chapter 714: Reminiscent of heaven

Unexpectedly, Handel died tragically in the hands of the betrayed Wolf Flute so early, and Rommel, who was stimulated, chose the dark trial sealed by the silent organ.

As the center of the world, the Holy City has not known how many homes it has built for hundreds of years, and there are countless ways to quickly increase its strength. Even the Pope himself can help people improve their strength without side effects.

And Rommel chose the most tragic one.

He is an advanced musician killer of the Forbidden School. After passing the transformation of the alchemy matrix and the operation, he has undergone several **** tortures and transformations, and even his skin ulcerated and peeled off several times.

At the cost of the complete decline of his body, it only took him half a year to reach the top of the master domain from the distortion level, and then with Ye Qingxuan almost broke through the scepter of the front and back feet.

The difference is that his scepter was blessed by the Red King himself with the movement "Emperor", inheriting the most suitable elements for "Handel", and then logically inheriting the holy name and position of his teacher.

It's just that he had not yet taken up his post as the head of the Silent Organization, so under the instruction of the Cardinals, he withdrew from his membership and went to Asgard to join the war.

He is an Asgardian himself, a descendant of the declining Qingyan clan, and the only heir. It makes sense to serve Asgard as a saint.

For Asgard, this war has more confidence.

For him, it was also the beginning of revenge.

Because of this, the old musician is full of anxiety.

"Time is short, let's make a long story short."

The old musician turned to the main topic: "The next situation, I am afraid that other people have also told you, if there is no accident, the enemy you will face at sea... is the friend of the rebel Wolfflute , Prince Avalon."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Rommel.

When the name Wolf Flute was mentioned, Rommel's expression remained unchanged, still cold.

This concentration made the old musician feel emotional, and he can only say that he is the person in charge of the Silent Organization, and he remains calm at all times, even if he wants to kill him.

"No need to use that name to excite me, sir."

Rommel's eyes drooped: "Are you worried that I will lose?"

"Who is the enemy. I am afraid that everyone except the Three Kings will be worried?" The old musician said, "After all, who can guess what he will do next?"

"Indeed, Ye Qingxuan has a lot of methods, I'm not as good."

There is no arrogance, and there is no humility. Rommel’s answer is simple and straightforward: "But if he appears on the front battlefield, he is my enemy.

Then, I will tell you, I will win this battle. "

He was pretty sure about this.

Even if the enemy has natural disasters, how can the saints not deal with natural disasters?

Not to mention, the situation is by no means that simple.

Even if Ye Qingxuan is dispatched personally, the Net of Taizhi will definitely stay in Avalon.

For that kind of non-combat type of national weapons, I am afraid that I can rest assured only by staying in the earth and heaven, so as to ensure that there is nothing wrong. And Ye Qingxuan, who had left the ethernet, fell from the natural disaster level to the scepter.

The weakest scepter.

People all over the world know that once he leaves the ethernet, his scepter is useless.

A blueprint?

Between the inheritance of the holy name, which one is the strongest...

Isn't this something obvious at a glance?

But even so, everyone still didn't dare to relax. Facing someone like Ye Qingxuan, it was necessary to face the enemy no matter what.

"Since you are sure of winning, then I won't nag anymore."

The old musician was silent for a moment, and said: "I will give you the sea fortress, and three scepters will be with you.

Mr. Rommel, in the name of His Majesty the Emperor, I convey to you that this battle will be won.

If you return from victory, Asgard will spare no effort to support you or the revival of the Qingyan clan. "

"Then, follow your orders."

Rommel bowed to His Majesty the Emperor represented by the old musician, propped up his cane, and turned away.

Leave the old musician alone in a chair, gazing at the huge map on the wall.

For some reason, there is always anxiety.

He closed his eyes.

"Ye Qingxuan..."——

The sky seems to reflect the muddy gray on the ground.

The gray-black mud should have been a piece of fertile soil, but now it smells of rotten.

"Lord, please grant me redemption." The rags-clothed migrant prostrated in the mud, and kissed Shire's boots religiously: "Please give us relief..."

Under the foul-smelling bandage on the neck and face, there are puss after another, which is abominable.

The sound of wailing came from the wilderness.

Charle raised his head and looked around blankly, looking at those sluggish eyes, unbelievable.

"How come there are so many..."

"This is just a part."

Paganini said lightly: "Some are land losers, some are lepers, some are beggars, and some are bankrupt farmers... Years after drought, the frost last year was so severe. They missed the spring ploughing, they have no hope.

The expelled people are worthless. There is too little land in the Caucasus to feed the weeds or feed them. You can't save them, even if you save them, they will die. "

The Charles was silent.

The vagrant in the mud looked up at him, expecting his eyes broken little by little. The man wanted to say something, but his cracked lips murmured, but in the end, he couldn't say anything.

He limped away.

The sound of a child crying from behind the victims.

Soon, the crying sound disappeared.

Charle lowered his head.

For a long time, he looked back and looked at Paganini: "How much food do we have?"

"We are going to open up wasteland, not to provide relief."

Paganini shook his head disappointedly: "There is not much food left. Everyone has a quota for food. Now Gaius eats coarse pancakes. Who has food for others?"

"How much more?" Charles asked repeatedly.

Paganini sighed, glanced to his side, and the clerk bitterly flipped through the account book: "After removing everyone's quota, we still have two kippers and five pancakes."

After listening, Paganini looked at Charles:

"How many can you save?"

"Yes, how many can you save?"

Charles sighed bitterly, stretched out his hand, and looked at the clerk: "Give it to me."

The clerk hesitated, took out two cloth bags from the car, took out two kippers, took out five pancakes, and finally, took out another bottle of water.

Paganini did not speak and lowered his eyes.

There are at least 30,000 refugees wandering outside the country, and there are 7,000 in this broken camp. Not to mention five pancakes, even if everyone’s rations are taken out, they are not close to the margins of a drop in the bucket.

Even if everyone in the country squeezes out a little ration, how much can be saved?

Can only turn a deaf ear.

This is not laissez-faire, nor cruel, but because there are more important things to do, and more important values ​​need to be preserved.

Paganini didn't stop Charles until he walked towards the refugees with pancakes and fish. Not out of confuse or calculation, but as a colleague's suggestion.

"Charles, there are always times when people are powerless."

He said softly: "Recognize reality early."

Charl looked back at him and suddenly smiled.

"Don't worry."

He scratched his head and laughed at himself: "If I really have such a slight advantage... then I am probably ‘not a human’."

Paganini was stunned.

Standing in front of the astonished refugees, Charles stopped.

The hungry refugees looked at him, then at the fish and pancakes in his hand, their voices suddenly became smaller and louder.

That bit of food seemed to have some incredible magical power, causing the black and thin people to move forward, crawling on the ground, gnawing their fingers, eyes looking longing and greedy.

Then they saw Shire pulling out the dagger from the boot.

The cold light of the dagger was like frost, stopping the surrounding refugees.

Charl was silent for a moment, raised his dagger, and cut off a section of his tail finger. In the sound of broken bones, blood flowed from his fingertips. The broken finger fell into the gap between the wheat cake and the kipper, and it probably fell to the ground through the gap, no one saw it.

The blood fell into the water bottle, and it dyed the water red, as if it turned into wine.

The dagger cut a piece of cloth and bandaged the severed tail finger. Charles made a smile on his twitching expression, bent down, and placed the food in his arms on the ground.

"Eat it."

He smiled and took a few steps back: "There is not enough."

Those voices became noisy.

The skinny victims looked at Shire blankly. The next moment, the crowd surged, like a quagmire boiling. Those people crawled towards the food that fell on the ground ~ IndoMTL.com ~ grabbed the noodles, stuffed them into their mouths, and swallowed with all their strength. I stuck my throat, picked up the level, and drank the fermented wine.

Charle took a few steps back, letting them gluttonous, his eyes were pitying.

Paganini took a look, then withdrew his gaze, expressionless, but the hands in the sleeves trembled, shaking uncontrollably,

For a long time, he called the clerk, calmed himself, suppressed his trembling voice, "After a while... after they finish eating, you go and collect the remaining residue, don't waste it."

The clerk stared at him blankly, thinking he was joking, Paganini repeated it, and he turned his head away. After a while, the refugees finished eating, and the clerk came back, bringing back twelve baskets full of debris.

A group of people gathered around the basket and was surprised.

But Paganini didn't look at it.

He was carrying the crowd, his face pale.

Damn, those idiots, don’t understand what this means...

Hundreds of years later, there was a sudden urge to pray.

"God..."

He raised his eyes and stared into the void in the sky. In his pupils, there was a fiery light shining, as if the door of heaven was slowly opening, spilling redemption.

That is Eden, the heaven created by mankind.

Like an illusion, he saw countless dead souls slowly rising up and flying into the kingdom of heaven, as if there really were souls in this world.

It's as if heaven really exists in this world--

Aha, second watch, I didn't expect it!

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