I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France Chapter 725 Consider this as a Reward

The sunny weather always brings good moods, as if the air is filled with sweetness and hope.

The young girl, wearing a gray trench coat and a wide-brimd sun hat, was leisurely riding her bicycle along the road in Davaz Town.

She seed to enjoy today’s weather, occasionally taking deep breaths against the breeze, revealing a charming and content smile.

A red taxi was parked at the corner ahead, and the driver was bent over, repairing sothing under the hood.

Suddenly, a car sped by the girl, honking brusquely.

The girl was startled by the sudden incident, veered to one side, and collided with the taxi, then fell with a scream.

The driver, who was still busy, imdiately poked his head out, looking concerned: "Miss, are you hurt?"

"My foot!" The girl clutched her ankle with a painful expression.

"Damn," the driver frowned, glanced at the offending car speeding away, cursing while approaching, "These guys should be sent to the battlefield. Hopefully, they have the sa attitude towards the enemy..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the driver suddenly froze.

The girl was holding a gun, a pistol with a silencer.

(The above image shows a silencer from the First World War, patented in the United States in 1909)

(The above image depicts Percy Maxim, who invented the silencer and is the son of Stevens Maxim, the inventor of the Maxim Machine Gun)

The girl’s face no longer showed the pain from the fall; instead, it was replaced by coldness and steadiness, with a hint of murderous intent in her eyes.

"Get in the car," the girl ordered in a low voice while getting up, "You better do as I say."

The driver realized he had encountered a pro; as she got up, the gun did not waver, precisely aid at his heart, her finger already exerting pressure on the trigger.

Any thought of snatching the gun was dispelled; any slight movent could instantly trigger the pistol.

The driver could only follow the girl’s instructions, closing the hood and sitting in the driver’s seat.

The girl, covering the gun with her trench coat, held it against the driver’s back, yet smiled and chatted with the driver, looking like a couple resting in the car.

Soon, a black Ford car passed by, driven by Shire’s father, Dejoka.

When the Ford car drove away, the girl coldly ordered, "Now, right ahead, sir!"

The driver’s heart sank, realizing he was dood; two kiloters ahead lay a forest.

He might have to prepare his own burial ground.

...

At around two in the afternoon, Shire returned to Davaz Town after finishing his business in Paris.

Shire had to disguise himself a bit, temporarily putting away his military hat and donning a cap commonly worn by workers, using a cloak to cover his military uniform.

At this ti, news ca from the front lines that General Fuxu’s troops had t successfully with the First chanized Division at Bicangxi.

Paris was once again in a state of euphoria, people spreading the news:

"We’ve reclaid Bicangxi, only 60 kiloters from zieres."

"So, that ans there’s only half the distance left?"

"Although half is left, the encirclent could close tonight, thanks to Shire’s chanized Division."

"Oh yes, victory is within reach!"

...

So even held newspapers, rhythmically chanting Shire’s na on the streets, one shout after another.

If they knew Shire was nearby, he wouldn’t need to go anywhere.

Davaz Town was similar; the late neighbors only now understood the significance of Shire’s battle, gathering with newspapers in front of Dejoka’s cottage, asking:

"Is it true that Shire’s battle could reclaim all regions west of the use River?"

"Including Verdun? My sister lives there; I’m not sure if she’s still alive."

"Did Shire really reclaim such an area in just a few days?"

...

Camille was at a loss, responding awkwardly.

When Shire’s car slowly stopped at the door, the neighbors froze for a mont, then rushed with excitent:

"Oh my God, Shire is back!"

"I thought he was still on the battlefield."

"Welco, General! Does your presence here an we have already won?"

...

Shire smiled, nodding and shaking hands with the neighbors, finally squeezing inside amidst the throng.

Camille excitedly ran forward to hug Shire, then stepped aside, her eyes gleaming: "Look, who’s here?"

Shire was stunned, and there stood Lucia, dressed in a gray trench coat, holding a sun hat, with a gentle smile on her face.

"Why are you here?" Shire asked.

"Just passing by," Lucia shrugged and countered, "Not welco?"

"I t Lucia outside the town," Camille interjected, "I happened to return from the factory while she was about to leave."

Leaving Shire, Camille affectionately took Lucia’s hand and led her inside: "Unbelievable, you ca here but didn’t plan to see ? Or is it because Shire wasn’t here?"

Lucia’s face showed a hint of awkwardness: "I wasn’t prepared, Madam Bernard. I’m very sorry!"

As they walked in the door, Shire frowned.

The sll of blood?

And human blood at that!

Coming from the battlefield, he was familiar with that scent.

He glanced around the room and then focused his gaze on Lucia, scrutinizing her.

Lucia seed to sense sothing, unconsciously tightening her coat.

...

After eating so fruit, Shire took Lucia to the room upstairs.

Lucia, holding a cup of coffee, looked around with interest: "Is this your room? Hard to imagine, it doesn’t look like a general’s quarters."

Standing by the window, Shire gnawed the apple in his hand: "You don’t look like a killer either."

"What? A killer?" Lucia laughed: "Are you talking about ?"

"It’s useless," Shire didn’t even turn his head: "Coffee might mask the sll of blood, but it can’t hide the bloodstain on your collar."

Lucia looked down and imdiately realized she had been fooled.

"Smart ass," she said.

There was no bloodstain on the collar; she had removed her coat before the act.

Finally, Shire turned, his eyes fixed on Lucia: "So, was I right? Are you a killer?"

Lucia reluctantly nodded: "Not as you imagined, right?"

"What did you do?" Shire asked again.

"Not much," Lucia casually picked up the Christmas crystal ornant on the table, her tone relaxed:

"You think those guards can ensure your family’s safety?"

"Especially Mr. Dejoka, he’s beco the most important figure in Bernard Group besides you."

"The capitalists believe that if anything happens to Mr. Dejoka, you’d certainly be thrown into chaos."

"At least it would make you incapable of managing the business at the rear."

Speaking, Lucia turned to face Shire, raising the ornant in her hand: "No need to thank , General. Consider this a reward!"