The Blue Moon hangs in the sky, with a red accompanying satellite by its side.
The cold blue light interweaves with the equally cold red glow on the ground, resembling the eerie glimr in the corner of a dead fish’s eye.
On the west side of Frank Castle, in a naless dense forest, two young n are holding binoculars, observing the sporadic lights within the fortress.
Monts later, the younger man, with a few scruffy whiskers at the corners of his mouth, puts down his binoculars and says softly:
"As expected of the Prudon Kingdom’s elite. Even after such a major victory—’seizing Frank Castle and opening the gateway to Hansa’—they haven’t relaxed. I thought they’d be celebrating all night."
The young man, who looks in his twenties, pats the boy on the shoulder and teases him with a smile:
"They’re indeed alert, but they can’t even dream that the real trump card is underground. Tom, you’ve done it again this ti."
The young man called Tom shows no hint of a smile, only endless regret.
"What a pity, if I had just three more days, I’m sure I could have dug out more things. Damn it, the situation this ti is almost identical to the last relic shipnt. I dare say the relics below are a big catch, no, a deep-sea giant shark!"
Jerry seems indifferent.
More than five thousand tons of gunpowder and high explosives aren’t enough; this kid wants to send the whole fortress sky-high?
Tom unbuttons his collar, takes a breath, and suddenly rembers sothing. He turns sharply to Jerry, his face changing slightly.
"Have all the residents in the city been evacuated?"
He’s been busy setting up explosive devices and bombs underground these days, so he had to entrust the evacuation to his closest friend, Jerry.
"Don’t worry, even if you don’t trust , you should trust General Dailong and the Saintess."
"I reported imdiately, and they have made proper arrangents."
Jerry avoids eye contact with Tom, instead raising his binoculars again to observe the city.
Tom still feels a bit uneasy in his heart, but doesn’t dwell on it.
General Dailong is a confidant of Lord Governor, known for his prudence. Even if he did nothing, Miss Saintess wouldn’t let him go.
Miss Saintess is beautiful, with a divine and solemn aura, the embodint of the Goddess of Light on earth. She is practically the personification of goodness and beauty.
"Since Miss Saintess is aware, I can rest assured."
Tom says with a cheerful smile.
Jerry inwardly flinches, puts down the binoculars, and squints at Tom.
He once suspected Tom’s words were sarcastic, but upon closer observation, the kid seems genuine.
Well, alright, only a few know about how Saintess Christine sacrificed pawns for overall victory on the battlefield, but her feat of not abandoning the garrison at Helentz Castle and launching a massive counterattack is deeply engraved in the hearts of all survivors of the Helentz Castle battle.
Jerry sighs quietly and decides to bury the harsh truth in his heart.
In all fairness, he doesn’t find Christine’s command in the Wende civil war problematic.
No benevolent person should lead soldiers.
A military commander can be kind-hearted in ordinary tis and should care for their subordinates, but on the battlefield, they must be a strategic player.
Miss Christine is undoubtedly a wise and calm strategist, which is why Roland appointed her as the Allied Commander-in-Chief.
He completely understands and greatly respects Miss Christine.
But respect aside, he does not wish to be involved with such a cold and ruthless person.
Even if her beauty is like a goddess descending to earth, it doesn’t matter.
He originally thought Tom’s feelings for Christine were rely gratitude and admiration, but now it seems there’s a troubleso spark.
He couldn’t help but ask, "Tom, we are best friends, right?"
"Best friends, we’re more like siblings from different parents!" Tom corrects loudly, widening his eyes.
"Haha, I misspoke. We are indeed brothers who can entrust our lives to each other. Since we’re good brothers, we should be honest with each other, shouldn’t we?"
Tom looks alertly at Jerry, his eyes shining under the night sky, completely clear.
"Of course, even if big brother wants to trick , I would never hide anything."
Though he speaks firmly, he’s reminding Jerry, I consider you a brother, don’t manipulate .
Jerry bites his lip and softly asks, "Tom, be honest with your brother, do you like Miss Saintess?"
"That’s right; she is the untouchable goddess in my heart." Tom answers instantly.
Jerry, annoyed, punches him. "That’s not the kind of liking I ant. I an, have you ever thought of marrying the Saintess as your wife, even if it’s just a fantasy?"
"Ah?!"
Tom nearly falls to the ground.
He finally manages to steady himself, touches his own head, and then Jerry’s, confirming that he didn’t mishear.
After a brief silence, he covers his mouth to suppress his laughter but ends up laughing uncontrollably.
"Jerry, Miss Christine’s position is higher than that of an ordinary Cardinal, right?"
"Yes." Jerry nods.
Although she must beco an official Saintess to surpass those Cardinals with core power, even if she fails to be selected, Governor Roland wouldn’t mistreat her.
Whether she formally becos a Saintess or is settled after not being chosen, she indeed surpasses most Cardinals.
"I’m considered outstanding among people our age, right?"
"Of course, my good brother is the best." Jerry boasts, puffing out his chest with pride.
Tom spreads his hands and sighs softly, "Even under the most absurd assumption, with us as divine beings leading these three thousand cavalryn to recapture Franks and destroy a hundred thousand enemies, I’d at most be a Count, right?"
"Right." The rules for elevating a title are structured, and being directly granted a Count is the limit. Even Governor Roland, excluding the Caesar title, is rely a Count, and they can’t possibly arrogantly surpass Roland no matter how confident they are.
Reviews
All reviews (0)