Silent Crown Chapter 593: Redemption (Part 1)

Snow fell from the sky and landed on Shire's hair.

He lowered his head, looking at the pale face in the pool of blood, watching him panting hard, the last heat turned into a white mist, rising from his mouth and nose, flying to the sky, and then condensed into frost in the wind. Falling silently, freezing the gradually cold blood.

The pain made his face twitch.

The soldier groaned and stared at Shire, reaching out with all his strength, trying to touch him. His lips opened weakly, but no sound was heard.

"Stick a little longer."

Charle shook his hand forcefully, feeling the bone-coldness, and the coldness penetrated into the bones, making him panic: "I will find someone right away, and you will hold on for a while...Doctor! Doctor! There is another one here! ……"

In the hustle and bustle, only a groan in the distance responded.

The snow seemed to fall endlessly from the sky, covering the entire frozen ground. On the plain after the war, the flames of war had not been extinguished, but the corpses were already cold.

Thousands of people? Or tens of thousands?

They fell in this war for their new country, falling in this cold place that would freeze in hell, looking up at the sky to death, until the snow powder covered their faces.

The medics staggered across the plains, carrying one by one still alive on the stent, and then using their sabers to pierce the unsaved hearts one by one.

Those who can’t survive like this don’t have to suffer anymore.

Charle's cry was drowned in the fine snow, and no one responded. Not far behind him, the wolf flute was smoking a cigarette, wrapped his coat tightly, just watched, but said nothing.

Charle looked back dimly, but saw the smile of the dying man.

It's as if heaven is in sight.

"Ah, ah, sacred son..."

He held Shire's hand, opened his dry lips, and exhausted his last strength to plead: "Please...give me redemption..."

Charles opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. He couldn't bear to avoid the person's sight, hesitated to organize his words, and finally nodded silently.

The half-mutilated soldier smiled, as if finally getting the acquiescence of passage.

The gate of heaven opened in front of him.

He closed his eyes contentedly.

The last breath dissipated.

No more temperature.

Charle released his hand and watched his arm fall in a pool of solidified blood. Even though he was dead, he still held his palm empty, as if he was holding on to some invisible hope.

For a moment, Charles saw it.

The faint figure rose up from the person's body, like the last white mist from his mouth and nose, slowly rising into the sky.

Not one.

There are hundreds of thousands.

Countless blurred figures soared in the sky and walked through the invisible door.

It's like walking into heaven.

Charle thought the hallucination was coming again, but when he looked at his hand, he found that there was no blood in the hallucination—that's true—but when he looked again, he couldn't see it again.

They have left.

The only thing left is the wind and snow, covering the battlefield, eliminating the last trace.

"Is that true?"

Charle looked at the sky blankly.

The wolf flute is puzzled, "What?"

"...no."

Charle shook his head, smiled self-deprecatingly, and withdrew his gaze: "No, it's nothing."

The wolf flute sighed and handed over a pack of cigarettes.

There is a shortage of supplies on the battlefield. Food is distributed according to heads. There can only be one piece of cotton-padded clothes for two people, who can wear them in turn, but this is the only one that is available in unlimited quantities.

The inferior tobacco from Dong Tianzhu was shredded with a guillotine, and then it was roasted and wrapped in extremely thin and rough white paper without even a filter.

"Unfortunately there is no wine."

Charle lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. The pungent smoke poured into his lungs, like sandpaper scratching his throat, causing the pain of swallowing gravel.

Smoke came out of the nose and mouth, flying into the sky.

Did you fly to the places where the souls went?

Charle couldn't help thinking.

"Relax, this is war." Wolf flute patted him on the shoulder: "Not the first time, nor the last time, but there will definitely be more in the future.

If those countries do not recognize the changes that are taking place here, the war will continue for a day. "

"I know."

"But you have to understand." Wolf flute sighed, "How many is this? How many are you trying to save?

You are the leader, you are their hope, but you are not a medical soldier. Give up, you can't save everyone, but you can make them die well. "

Charle was silent for a long time, and asked softly: "Do they really believe that I am a holy son?"

"Yes."

"But I am not."

Charle shook his head: "I know I am not. I have no relationship with the **** god. He has never loved me."

The wolf flute thought silently for a long time, and finally found the answer:

"Then you may not be him, are you?"

Charle did not speak.

Wolf flute suddenly shrugged a little disappointed, "I thought it was a good joke."

"Where is Mr. Gaius?" Charles pinched out the cigarette and suddenly asked, "I have something to find him."

Wolf flute thought for a while and said: "He should be very busy now."

"I know."

Charl turned his head and stared at the huge battlefield covered in snow: "Sacred Son is meaningless to this place. I don't want to be just a mascot, the wolf flute."

"Gaius can't agree to your participation in the war." Wolf flute replied bluntly: "You are a symbol, Shire, you are a proof of the existence of miracles, you must be high above.

If you participate in the war, other countries have reasons to use their own scepters and natural disaster weapons, and there may even be saints... Gaius can’t allow you to roll up your sleeves on impulse. "

Speaking, he pointed to the end of the battlefield.

At the end of the line of sight, in the camp in the distance, huge etheric waves rise to the sky far away, indicating the existence of self.

"Did you see it? We can't be passive."

Wolf flute said: "Whoever can't help it first will lose."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Charle laughed self-deprecatingly, looked down at the cold face in the blood and snow, and whispered softly: "I just think I should help a little...even if it's all right."

-

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Three hours later, Baishan Research Institute.

There is no heat in the cold room, and the cold makes the heart convulsions. Even the house has just been built and can only be shielded from the wind. A stove was burning in the corner of the room, but it could not provide any temperature.

The old people sitting on the edge of the table, wrapped in thick coats, holding cups of hot water, they shivered coldly.

No one spoke in the silence.

They looked at the blueprints on the table in silence, paying attention, not letting go of any loopholes or errors.

The sound of footsteps sounded from a distance, and the young researcher opened the door and ran in, bulging in his arms. In the blizzard weather, he ran a sweat, the sweat froze on his face, almost frozen stiff.

"There are only so many in Curry, I brought them all."

He put the gray ‘iron ingots’ in his arms on the table, and the ‘iron ingots’ with the thickness of the thumb fell on the table and collided with each other, making a crisp sound.

Melted lead, all are molten lead.

The old people looked at the molten lead on the table, looking at each other:

"Is it really feasible?"

"This idea has never been thought of, and the principle is very simple, there is no problem."

"There have been similar designs before, but there are many disadvantages. Moreover, we lack a better alloy formula."

"The Holy City has carried out a technical blockade on us. If we want to research on our own, it will take another four years."

"The idea is very good, but we don't have so much time."

"First make a batch of prototypes based on this design. Maxim, your manpower is sufficient, how long will it take?"

"The carpenters and blacksmith apprentices who have just been recruited need to be trained before they can be used. If you want a qualified prototype, it will take about three months."

Behind the table, Charles listened to their opinions in silence, and for a long time, slowly shook his head: "It doesn't take that long. If you think it's okay, you can do it now."

"Now?"

"Well, now."

Charles nodded and spread out his palms.

A crisp voice sounded.

As if an earthquake is coming suddenly, the sound of the shaking of tables and chairs resounds~IndoMTL.com~ Numerous cracks burst and fall apart in the glass on the wall. The old people looked at each other and couldn't help but want to back off.

Crash!

A chair collapsed suddenly, and the person sitting on it staggered and looked up in astonishment, only to see the iron nails breaking free and throwing them into the palm of the hand.

The sound of the wind rang.

Fog-like gray dust rushed from outside the window and gathered beside Shire, and countless rough metal particles could be vaguely seen.

The cold wind howled and poured into the room along the window, but there was no chill.

Because what is born in that palm is the high temperature above the lava.

Like a furnace.

Countless alchemy matrices arise and die in an instant, and with the mobilization of the five fingers, they converge to form an abstract furnace. The dazzling pure white flame brewed in it, and the temperature that was enough to completely evaporate the entire room instantly was restrained in that hand.

It was just a leak of warmth that made the room too hot to breathe. Make the beards of those old people curl and back into the corner.

When steel is thrown into it, it becomes a liquid, and the impurities evaporate instantly.

Immediately afterwards, countless pieces of dust poured into it, which was the mineral dust hidden in the deep layers of the frozen soil. The invisible palm picked them out of the soil, put them into the furnace, and smelted them with the terrifying temperature.

Heating, beating, purifying, forming, reprocessing, forging, quenching...

In an instant, the long process was completed overnight.

In the hands of Shire, dozens of parts in the extinguished fire have been cast into shape, colliding, rubbing, piecing together, combining, and finally forming the prototype of the creation.

A weird iron pipe with a grip.

"Okay."

Charle put it on the table: "If there are no mistakes, we can check it now."