But even though he thought about it, waiting still made him uncomfortable. This feeling was really torturous, and the days seemed like years. Just a few minutes had passed, and the old goblin felt as if the entire afternoon was about to run out.
Finally, the two planes flew into the distance little by little. They kept circling, but the center of the circling circle gradually moved away from the old goblin's head.
The annoying hum of the airplane engine gradually became quieter, and the old goblin's mood relaxed little by little: he had escaped another disaster, and it was another lucky day.
The two planes gradually flew away, and the old goblin breathed a sigh of relief. He raised his feet and was about to walk forward, when he happened to see a strange-looking iron can lying not far away from him!
It was a cluster bomb from the Tang Empire. It had not exploded yet and was lying there intact, motionless as if there was no threat.
But anyone who is familiar with this thing knows that it is more dangerous than anything else. God knows how long this thing has been lying here quietly, will it explode in the next second and swallow up everything around it?
Lose.
The old goblin swallowed his saliva, carefully pulled the reins of the war horse, and avoided the cute little girl painted in dark green.
Then he carefully looked at the direction he was heading, and then at the bumpy roadbed on the other side, and fell into a tangle.
If he took the main road, he was afraid that the two planes would leave and come back, and he would be dead by then. If he took the small road, the chance of encountering "ghost mines" would be infinitely greater.
There are fewer people walking in these places, the soil is soft, and of course there are more bombs dropped. It is precisely because of this that the old goblin would always move along the main road: if the small road is easy to walk, wouldn't it be easier for him to keep walking on the small road?
After successfully bypassing the unexploded mine, the goblin veteran gritted his teeth and walked back to the road. He heard the sound of the engine behind him and the explosion of the rocket mounted on the Yin'er attack plane.
sound.
He didn't know what the other party had discovered, and he was desperately launching an attack. That unlucky target helped him attract the idea of Yin'er's attack aircraft, which was undoubtedly good news for him.
I hope that everything will go smoothly in the follow-up, so that he can get a certificate from the defenders of the city, so that he can continue to receive food wages, eat a mouthful of food, and survive...
Fortunately, although along the way he saw bombed trucks, destroyed carriages, killed goblins, and deserters and bandits hanged on wooden racks, he also saw "no explosions"
"Ghost Thunder", and encountered enemy aircraft more than once, but he still walked into Dingcheng in the evening.
It's not dark yet, and the place is more dilapidated and miserable than the last time he came. Not only can you see bomb craters everywhere on the road, but also in the city.
There are still taller buildings, but most of them have collapsed, but even if they collapsed, the remains of these buildings are still higher than those of some slum buildings.
The height of the goblin houses is quite low, and ordinary people would obviously feel depressed when living there. Therefore, the consulates of various countries in the Mirage City have actually been redesigned and built.
Nowadays, other embassies are still there, but the embassies of Daqin, Yangmu, Tang, Chu, and Shu are all empty.
These places are now used as warehouses. After all, the construction standards of these places are very high. They are all reinforced concrete structures, which are very explainable and the space is large enough for goblins to stack many things.
Looking at the devastated city, the old goblin sighed involuntarily. He led his horse and walked into the dilapidated city under the gaze of many people.
The buildings on both sides of the streets housed some of the wounded goblins. There was no place to place the wounded. Even though they knew they might be hit and buried by cannonballs, they had to be crammed into these houses to make do.
It would be even worse if they were left outside, not to mention being easily killed by artillery shells, and the environment would be even worse. These wounded people who lacked medical treatment were lying on the window looking at the old goblin entering the city and the old horse he was holding.
There is a section of Juma running across the street. It is made of wood and is not even covered with barbed wire. There are two soldiers standing behind the Juma, carrying weapons on their backs and looking a little dull.
Generally speaking, the soldiers who do this kind of guard job are either people with backgrounds who have been taken care of, or people who have just been transferred from the troops that have been withdrawn from the front line to rest.
The two guards in front of me looked like the latter at first glance: they had minor injuries on their bodies, and their uniforms almost looked like they had been washed with soil. From the looks of it, they were remnant soldiers who were lucky enough to get a chance to rest and recuperate, and were withdrawn from the battlefield.
"Identification." A soldier walked around Juma and walked in front of the old goblin. He stretched out his hand and took a small notebook from the old goblin's hand.
The quality of that small book is really hard to describe. There are not even staples on it. There is a folded page inside the folded outer cover, with a name on one side and a photo on the other.
This photo is probably the most modern thing on this identity document. Everything else could have been copied back when paper was invented.
In fact, goblins don't need any anti-counterfeiting designs. After all, there are no other goblins in this world except the Mirage Kingdom. If you forge a goblin's ID, wouldn't even a fool see the problem?
The 1.85-meter human spy took out a goblin ID and showed a bright smile... Guess where you were exposed? This may be why there were really no good stories about spies during the Japan-US Pacific War.
…
After checking it, the goblin guard handed the certificate back to the old goblin, and then waved his hand to him, indicating that he could go around through the gap next to it. They didn't want to move that damn horse.
The old goblin led the horse around the obstacle, and then continued to move forward. Behind the horse was a large crater, which was the trace left by the 155mm caliber howitzer shell.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! Because it is already time for dinner, the orcs have also stopped shelling. The orcs really went to eat and rest, but the goblins can only sit there because they don’t have much food.
rest.
Now the food reserves in Dingcheng are almost exhausted, so only the frontline troops can eat two dry meals a day, while other troops can only eat one dry meal and a thin meal.
Guided by the soldiers on the roadside to the new material reception desk, the old goblin took out his cargo list and handed over his ID.
The officer at the reception desk was looking forward to seeing what was going on. Finally, someone came to deliver supplies, and he immediately checked what the old goblin had sent.
When he saw the shells, his excited expression was reduced by half, because what he wanted most now was medicine and food. Although he also knew that it was impossible for one person to deliver these precious supplies alone, he was still full of excitement.
expectations.
"100mm artillery shells, ten sets of military uniforms, and twenty rolls of gauze." The officer put down the canvas cover of his backpack, and then said to the men behind him. The two helping soldiers took out the cannonballs from the old goblin's horse, one by one.
It was placed on the ground.
When they were getting the cannonballs, they saw the Cyric musket in the old horse's backpack, the gourd containing gunpowder, and the small cloth bag containing lead bullets. The expressions on their faces were wonderful.
"They seem to only be able to see the application form for artillery shells..." the soldier in charge of recording complained while writing the list. Dingcheng was short of everything, but nothing could be sent from the rear.
In fact, he was just complaining, because in the middle of the night, when he encountered a team delivering food, he would also complain about the lack of ammunition and medicine.
"Thank you for your hard work." The officer in charge of receiving the supplies was very polite. He patted the old goblin on the shoulder and stroked the old horse's mane with his hand.
The old horse seemed to be familiar with the situation, snorting and shaking its head. The old goblin got the certificate from another soldier, and then saluted an unqualified military salute.
He had not received a day's military training, and this military salute was demonstrated to him when someone gave him a military uniform.
Soldiers like him would die at least 300 times a day in the direction of Dingcheng, so for him, it was the old horse behind him that saved his life.
"Boom!" Just as the old goblin led his old horse back, the orcs' shelling started again. The impact point of the shells was close to the line of fire between the two armies, so it was still far away from here.
But the power of large-caliber artillery shells is huge. Even from such a distance, you can still feel the shock. The ground beneath your feet is shaking, and everything around you seems to be shaking gently.
The old goblin had never been on the battlefield. He shrunk his neck and stretched out his hand to subconsciously comfort his old horse. He saw the goblin soldiers resting against the walls of the surrounding buildings and saw their reaction to this horrific explosion.
A habitual state.
These soldiers have long been accustomed to living under such shelling, and they can even judge the impact of the shells by listening to the sound.
As long as the shells are not directed at them, they won't even blink. It's time to eat, and it's time to take a nap.
"It's okay. Usually they don't attack at night, and the bombardment is not so fierce." A passing officer who saw the old goblin in embarrassment comforted him and left in a hurry. He seemed to be used to this kind of life.
"You can bring more things with you when you come next time. Everything is lacking here." After the officer walked over, he turned back and shouted to the old goblin.
Aren’t the people here afraid of death? The old goblin shouted in his heart. He pulled the reins and led the restless old horse and hurriedly wanted to escape from here.
What he doesn't know is that the people here are not afraid of death, but they don't know when death will come.
In a place like Dingcheng, what determines a person's life or death is not courage, but luck. At this time, people who are assigned to this damn place like Dingcheng... how good can their luck be?
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I'm not in a good mood today, so I just finished writing the last chapter, sorry.
