After wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Wang Ye sat on the stone and recovered for a long time, and then he felt as if he was alive again.
Sometimes I always feel like the hero in a novel who changes his fate against the will of heaven.
The strength is also steady and steady, growing all the way.
But the protagonist has a golden finger, a grandfather, a mount, and a backer.
Own...
There once was a golden finger, the post office...
Then I found out that the big boss arranged it for me, in order to arrange it for myself.
Grandpa...
I once had one, Zhang Ziliang should have this identity, and then he died.
backing...
He is now someone else’s backer.
As for the mount...
Well, this does exist. I just snatched it from the girl's store a few days ago.
If you don’t think about it carefully, you won’t know. If you really think about your past over the past year, it will be full of bitterness.
Even the benefits brought by the 'Golden Finger' were earned by oneself.
If the boss who planned it for him hadn't been reluctant to let him die like this, the grass on his grave would probably be several feet tall by now.
No one can win with just one bet. He has lost so many times.
Wang Ye really didn't dare to think about it anymore. He sighed helplessly and stood up from the stone.
Anyway, life goes on.
If what Miroku is thinking about is really the scene in the mural, then at least he won't have a chance in a short period of time, so he has plenty of time left for himself.
It's still some time before the Chinese New Year, so it's time to do some cleaning.
At least standing on the top of the mountain and looking into the distance, I have never been to this area, which means there are too many new friends waiting for me to meet.
After finishing his work and going back, the Lord of Yaochi will almost recover.
Celebrate the New Year by the way.
After making a targeted plan, Wang Ye put aside the complicated thoughts in his heart, regained his endless fighting spirit, stood on the top of the mountain, let out a loud shout, and jumped directly.
Let the strong wind sweep over your ears.
The feeling of free fall is so good.
When approaching the ground, Wang Ye controlled his energy, soared into the sky, moved with the wind, and disappeared into the distant sky in the blink of an eye, leaving only a ghost standing there in a daze.
Just a moment ago, he was holding a blood-stained stone tablet in his arms.
but now...
What about my stone tablet?
It took a few seconds for the ghost to react, let out an angry roar, and rushed towards the direction Wang Ye left.
But Wang Ye had already fled the scene of the crime.
Situations like this happen every day in this area.
…
A full month's time.
The scattered investigators didn't mind being dirty and sat casually on the ground, recovering their strength as much as possible. Most of them had scars on their bodies, and some of them were missing limbs or legs.
Even the spotless Guanyin had tiredness written all over her face, and her white monk robes were stained with scarlet blood.
"Can you still pretend?"
One of the investigators glanced at Guanyin and asked.
Guanyin shook her head.
Because she is the strongest, all storage containers are placed on her to prevent anyone from having an accident and losing supplies.
At first, everyone was not very friendly to Guanyin.
After all, he came from Lingshan, and his temperament is a bit cold, with a feeling that strangers are not allowed to enter.
At that time, she had just come out of those complicated emotions, so she still had a tangled feeling about the human race itself.
Which of these investigators is not a human spirit, will naturally feel this sense of distance from Guanyin.
so...
There is quite a feeling that there are different paths but no mutual understanding.
Until they freely assigned teams and marched into the wasteland, she, who had been alone, actually asked to go with them and picked a team.
And then...
Taking the lead time and time again, although Guanyin remained as cold and taciturn as ever, it gave them a sense of identity in their hearts.
However, there are too many ghosts in the wasteland.
There are so many that even if Guanyin is there, there is no way to protect everyone.
But even so, this team can be considered the group that suffered the least damage and gained the most.
"Is it full?"
"Pity."
The investigator who was on crutches and missing half of his leg shook his head with regret.
"It's time to go back and rest."
"In the next period of time, we cripples may have to absorb more energy. Don't be surprised, brothers."
The investigator said with a smile.
But even though he seemed to be talking and laughing, his eyes still remained cold.
The people around who were wiping their weapons fell into silence after hearing this.
They investigators do have this rule.
People who are physically disabled and unable to fight normally give priority to materials, regardless of the cost, and absorb energy crazily, just like a barrel of explosives, stuffing as much explosives as possible inside.
Until one day...
Dynamite... explodes.
In this way, the price-performance ratio is the highest and the energy utilization is the most reasonable.
This... is the rule passed down by the Tianzhu. This tradition has been started from the older generation, the old people who pioneered the wasteland.
"Fuck, I'm taking advantage of you."
Finally, an investigator said with a smile, but his eyes were slightly red, but he soon returned to his natural state.
Guanyin, who was still silent on the side, just looked at these laughing humans, wondering what he was thinking.
perhaps...
Only if you truly see all the ways of the human race, identify with the human race, and are truly willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the human race, can you be qualified to be called...'Guanyin'.
Now she is just Guanyin.
…
"Go home."
"Team 47, triumphant today!"
The investigators who had taken a break helped each other and stood up one after another. They were obviously a group of disabled people, but they managed to show off their ferocious aura.
Guanyin just walked at the front of the crowd, looking around vigilantly.
Thirty-five people traveled and twenty-two returned.
This...
Compared with most teams, this is already an excellent record.
…
"Let me go, damn, are you stupid?"
"Have you forgotten what I taught you?"
In the wasteland, Mao Yongan was carrying a strong man on his back, with a row of blood-stained bags hanging on his waist. His face was pale, and there was a deep wound on his chest that could be seen.
Blood continued to gush out from the wound and drip onto the ground.
On his back was the strong man from the team. Apart from him, there was no one around Mao Yongan.
