Chapter 134 Southern Battlefield
The Southern Battlefield, a desolate land at the edge of the interstellar space, was once a thriving interstellar trade route, now reduced to the ruins of war. The sky was cloudless, shrouded in a faint gray haze, as if even the air was tainted by the smoke of war.
The ground was covered in charred soil and broken rock, a dead, silent wilderness. The once vibrant vegetation had long since been ravaged by the flames of war, leaving only patches of withered grass and scattered dead trees, their trunks twisted like wailing in agony. Occasionally, the remains of broken machinery could be seen scattered across the ground, rusted and stained, a testament to the fierce battles of the past.
In the distance, an abandoned outpost stood alone in the wasteland, its walls riddled with bullet holes and traces of explosions, and the remaining building materials wailed mournfully in the wind. Broken flags and discarded weapons lay scattered around the outpost, silently denouncing the brutal battles that had once taken place on this land.
The air was filled with a pungent smell of gunpowder and a faint scent of blood, making people feel suffocated. Occasionally, a few mechanical birds circled in the sky, their shadows cast on the ground, appearing particularly lonely and helpless.
On this desolate battlefield, silence reigns supreme. No birdsong, no wind, only the occasional low hum of machinery in the distance, as if everything on this land has died, leaving only cold metal slowly decaying through endless time.
The desolation and desolation of the southern battlefields evokes a sense of being in a forsaken world. Every inch of land, every stone, speaks silently of the cruelty and ruthlessness of war. The former prosperity and hope have long since been destroyed, leaving behind only endless desolation and sorrow.
In this dead land, time seems to have lost its meaning, and the past and future have become blurred. Only this desolate battlefield quietly waits, waiting for the day when people will discover the cruel and dusty past.
The desolate and desolate southern battlefield unfolded before Carl's eyes. His steps were steady, the charred earth beneath his boots making a gentle sound. Carl, dressed in a special forces uniform, cautiously scanned his surroundings with his rifle at hand. The black uniform clung to his powerful frame.
His red hair shone like flames, standing out against the gray battlefield.
Carl chewed gum, each chew making a slight sound that was particularly clear in the silent battlefield. His eyes were as sharp as an eagle, scanning the surroundings as if to penetrate the ruins.
He walked through the shattered wreckage of machinery without pausing. The rusted metal fragments groaned fragilely under his feet, as if telling him of the fierce battle that had taken place. But Carl had only one goal in mind: to find Zongfang and personally deliver the gift she had entrusted to him.
Carl stopped in front of the abandoned outpost, his eyes sweeping over the dilapidated building with a hint of inquiry and scrutiny. He raised a hand and gently pushed open a half-closed door. The door hinges creaked harshly, as if resisting his entry.
The moment Carl entered the outpost, a strong sense of oppression suddenly filled the air. His ears caught a slight whistling sound, and almost instinctively, he quickly dodged to the side. A flash of silver light passed by him, making a sharp sound as it penetrated the air and embedded itself deeply into the wall.
Carl stood firm and looked towards the source of the sound, only to see a figure slowly walking out of the shadows.
The man's silver hair fluttered in the wind, like silver threads in the moonlight, gleaming with a cold light. His eyes were like icy stars, emitting a heart-pounding chill.
Munakata wore camouflage combat fatigues, the close-fitting design highlighting his defined muscles. His steps were steady and confident, each one carrying an immense sense of intimidation. In his hand, he held a long, silver sword, its blade gleaming in the dim light, seemingly capable of slicing through the air.
Seeing the person coming, the man frowned slightly, and a hint of doubt flashed in his eyes.
"You shouldn't be here."
Zong Fang's voice was low and calm, as if it came from an ice cellar, carrying an irresistible power.
Carl smiled evilly and chewed the gum in his mouth more rhythmically. He put down his gun, stood there nonchalantly, and said impatiently: "Do you think I want to come?"
He pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it up to his eyes.
"Someone asked me to hand something to you personally."
Zong Fang's eyes fell on the envelope, and a glint flashed in his eyes, but he couldn't believe it. He slowly walked over, took it, and opened it to find several photos.
"This is..." There was a tremor in Zongfang's voice.
His fingers gently stroked the edge of the photo, as if touching some treasure.
Karl raised his eyebrows, glanced at him, and said, “She asked me to give this to you, and said that you must see it.”
Zongfang's hands trembled slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. He took a deep breath, carefully put the photo away, and then looked up, his eyes filled with unwavering emotion.
"How's she? Is everything okay?"
Speaking of Qiao Suisui, Karl put away his frivolous look, and thought of the kiss when he left, and couldn't help but smile.
"She's fine."
Zong Fang saw the doting in Carl's expression, and his heart ached. He tightened his jaw, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes patiently.
"Don't tell her about my situation here."
Karl glanced at him and knew that he didn't want Qiao Suisui to worry, so he nodded and asked before turning around: "I'm leaving, don't you have anything you want me to tell her?"
Zong Fang stood in the bleak wind, the desolation and desolation around him seeming to silently speak of his inner heart. His figure appeared so lonely and resolute in the silent battlefield, his silver sword gleaming in the dim light, reflecting the pain and longing in his heart.
Every day on the southern battlefield is a battle of life and death.
He starts killing people as soon as he opens his eyes. He is like a killing machine every day and needs to stay alert even when he closes his eyes.
The killing day after day made Zongfang numb.
Sometimes, when he was cutting with the knife, he would feel a curiosity about others that he had never felt before.
Who is this person? Does he have a lover? Is he also separated from his beloved like me?
Whenever he thought of this, Zongfang would always hesitate for a moment.
This kind of hesitation cannot exist in a place like the southern battlefield, because in just one or two seconds, you can lose your life.
He was tired of killing, but if he didn't kill others, he would be the one to die.
Zongfang looked down at the photo in his hand, and the appearance of the cub made his heart warm.
Go back, go back to her.
A voice kept lingering in his mind, becoming the belief that helped him get through this long and numb time.
He missed her warmth, her scent, and the way his petite figure would be squeezed tightly against the softest part of his heart. That was his deepest concern, and it was also the driving force that kept him going.
"Tell her I will come back to her soon."
(End of this chapter)
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