(It's the Chinese New Year, I'll deal with the above-mentioned prosecutors. Go to the subordinate units to inspect, summarize, and evaluate. I'm so confused about all kinds of things that I'm so confused. I suddenly envious of the legendary Nezha. This guy can turn into three heads and six arms, and can deal with many and many at the same time. Especially when I'm on the bed, can one be tired? Can one change into another body and continue having sex?)

Refugees are the most common people in the wilderness.

Radiation has divided humans into many different mutant groups. No one knows how many mobs can be freely in the middle and severe radiation areas, but no force will agree that they belong to humans. Especially under the premise that the order and moral system are completely collapsed, crime or evil in the usual sense no longer becomes the standard for measuring good and evil.

Alive

...just to eat.

No matter what method you use.

Like Lin Xiang left a few months ago, the appearance of the settlement No. 0930c17 still has not changed at all. The dilapidated houses and streets maintain the same pattern as before. The alleys and corners are dirty and dark, exuding a nauseating stench. Most residents have yellow and thin skin. The barley planted in the fields outside the city is also sparse, the ground is dry and cracked, and only in the concave part can you see a little wetness, barely maintaining the small amount of green left on the stems of the yellow wheat seedlings.

Verell sat lazily at the dining table, holding an old kettle with smooth rounded corners in his left hand, slowly siping the wine contained in it. He held a dagger in his right hand, cutting the barbecue from the plate in front of him one after another, and then picked it with the tip of the dagger and put it into his mouth.

The meat is very old, and the seasoning is only simple salt. Each piece of meat needs to be chewed for a long time, but it still may not rot. They are like pieces of hardened rubber, fighting with rotten teeth.

Sitting on a shabby and dirty bench, with one leg bent, his broad back against the wooden column, the sun shone slanted on Verell's face from the slightly worn door gap, showing a shadow under his thin cheekbones. Despite his white bloodline, his skin had long become dark, and his body wrapped in his top was very wide but there was not much power that highlighted by his muscles. From the outside, he was just an ordinary old man. He was covered with white hair and thin and weak. There seemed to be nothing in the world that could move him anymore, and he could only silently consume his last vitality in the sun.

Two months ago, a group of wilderness refugees who had traveled a long distance from afar came to the settlement No. 0930c17. After health quarantine and basic identity verification, they were included in the dependent group of the Red Republican Army's peripheral forces. According to convention, under the management of the town's political and supervisory committee members, these people can reclaim fields nearby, build houses, and become formal residents who pay harvests according to time.

Verell was also one of the refugees. With a few bottles of old wine picked up from the ruins as the basis, he opened the only bar in the settlement No. 0930c17. However, the ", wine" on the shelves only found clean empty wine bottles from the garbage dump. As for the liquids in the cups of the drinkers, it was made of a kind of plant roots mixed with water. This thing tasted similar to beer with a weakened degree. Although its ingredients were no different from water, it still had a little bit of wine-like taste.

There were two pieces of meat left on the plate, and Verell kept frowning and his teeth were really hard to deal with. If it weren't for the fact that they were meat, it would be better to throw them out and feed them to the dog.

It is difficult to get meat in the western wilderness.

The giant rats here are more sensitive than their kind in other places and are extremely difficult to catch. Yearly droughts have caused most of the ground vegetation to wither, and naturally there are no groups of double-headed cows or wildebeests. The dry sand and gravel will not even have any interest in rotten wolf, and it is even more impossible to attract the attention of other animal boats. This place is desolate and despairing. If it weren't for the Red Republican Army that would provide a certain amount of living resources on time as a supplement, and with electricity to extract groundwater, the settlement of op0930c17 had long been a dead place.

The night before yesterday, a drinker brought Vereller an arm and replaced it with two liters of alcoholic beverage mixed with plant rhizomes. It was a very fresh right hand, and it was just cut off, and the wound still had blood that had not dried up. However, the owner of this thing seemed to be very old, and most of the muscles in the skin had shrunk. Judging from Vereller's experience, the guy whose arm had been cut off was at least over sixty years old.

He did not express any objection to this transaction. Human meat and beef are not very different. In the old days, those warnings that cannibalism would cause various terrible lesions or sequelae symptoms were repeatedly argued by countless doctors and scholars. They had no effect in the wasteland world. OK! Even if chewing the meat on the same type of body will turn into monsters with sores on the head and pus flowing from the soles of the feet, even if sucking the human bone marrow will fall into hell after death, even if using other people's meat to make delicious soup is a sin, but so what? I am hungry and need to eat. The reality is that simple.

There is no sin in this world. God's damn old bastard has long given up everything. Why should we keep the so-called "Dao" virtue?

Besides, I am just an ordinary person, not a god who is sacred and noble, who would rather starve to death than eat.

Slowly chewing the meat, Verell kept hearing the slight squeaking sounds in his ears.

This is not due to friction caused by hard work. The house is very old and old. The junction of the wood and beams and brick and stone structure has long become loose. Any force movement will cause squeezing, making a sound that is overwhelming.

Verell narrowed his eyes, raised his wine pot and took a sip, listening seriously and focused.

The sound came from the top of the head, where the small attic of the tavern was also the bedroom of such a house in the settlement No. 0930c17.

The "creaking" sound caused by the squeeze became louder and louder, from rapid to slow, like an alternating process full of rhythm. During this period, there was also a faint breath of breath that was emitted by heavy physical laborers when they were tired, and there was also a very slight moan like mosquitoes and ants. Calm down and carefully distinguish the vague and chaotic tone. It is not difficult to hear the extremely pleasant impulse, as well as the relaxation and emptiness brought by the release of excessive nerve tension.

The wine slowly flowed down his throat into the stomach bag. A burning sensation as strong as a flame penetrated from the tongue throughout the whole body, burning out a burning and fierce energy, reflecting Verell's old face, engraved with countless deep wrinkles, into a strange color mixed between black and red.

Of course, the wine sold in the bars are really good wines with counterfeit products, and they will only stay when they are most useful. Of course, if someone can afford to pay enough, Verell would not mind selling some. Even if the residents of the settlement No. 0930c17 are poor people who can't even afford to wear pants, he will only leave this kind of good thing for himself to enjoy. Just like now.

The small attic, which heard the sound, finally slowly returned to calm. The rhythmic squeeze between the wooden beams and the bed was replaced by the dull impact of hard-soled boots trampling on the floor. Then there was a "silent" sound of cloth and clothing friction. After a brief silence, the back of the wine cabinet was obliquely connected to the end of the wooden ladder on the second floor, "squeaking" revealing a square square entrance. As the wooden cover was pulled up from the inside, a burly and strong figure also appeared at the top of the stairs.

This is a middle-aged man in his thirties. His shoulders are very wide, and the surface of his arms stretched from both sides of the sleeveless shirt is full of bulges of bulging muscles. A pair of desert camouflage military trousers are tightly tied around his waist, highlighting the neatly arranged solid abdominal muscles. The tight legs are tied into the high-couple boots, and the whole person looks full of irresistible power. The chest of the military shirt is also embroidered with two silver five-pointed stars representing the rank of lieutenant.

Verell still chewed slowly, and he turned his body sideways, hunched his back and half-squinted his eyes, and his eyes followed the man downstairs intentionally or unintentionally. His expression seemed to be smiling, and a hint of undetectable contempt and excitement appeared in his eyes surrounded by layers of turbidity and wrinkles.

"Do you want a drink?"

Looking at the officer who had already walked in front of him, Verell curled up his thin and old body and moved to the side, giving up a wide enough area on the strip wooden bench.

You need a very strong pure wine. Add some lighter and add some wild honey."

After hesitating for a moment, the lieutenant chose to sit down at the dining table. He had a obviously awkward look and quickly swept the small wine pot on the table, twisted his neck and straightened the Fengji buckle at the top of the collar, and slowly loosened it.

Not many people knew that there were light wine in the Verell Tavern, and few people knew that he still had half an urn of aged wild honey.

The wine mixed with honey showed a color similar to butter but slightly faded than it. Looking at the foam slowly rotating in the center of the wine glass, the middle-aged officer did not drink it all in one go like a drunkard, but held the upper end of the cup tightly with his slightly trembling hands and leaned forward, falling into deep thought.

what to do?"

He murmured to himself and seemed to be looking for the answer in the void of his nose.

Verell turned halfway and glanced at the black-bottom red-star armband wearing the sleeves of the officer, representing the identity of the Political and Supervisory Commissioner, without saying a word.

Silence seemed to make the lieutenant feel a little dissatisfied. He turned around, frowned, and stared at the hunched Virell with the usual interrogation of the prisoner. However, he himself did not notice it. At some point, a trace of instinctive fear and worry appeared in the cold eyes that were as sharp as a knife and a sword.

The tavern owner was very keen to capture the subtle changes in the eyes of the political supervisor. He did not reveal the secret he had just discovered at all, and still struggled to chew the human flesh in his mouth that was tougher than the rubber, sighing vaguely: "Masguli is a good girl to let her down."

This feminine name, which is obviously different from the Asian race, obviously has a special magic for the lieutenant that is difficult to explain. He slowly retracted his scrutiny gaze, turned his head, and focused his attention on the glass of light wine in front of him that had stopped rotating. His hands holding the cup slowly became tighter and harder.

Since the time when Old Man Verell just arrived outside the town and requested to join the settlement No. 0930c17, the lieutenant has been responsible for the identity and pathological examination of the refugees.

He was a soldier who was extremely loyal to the great leader and a successor who grew up under the illumination of the red light. Every day, the lieutenant bowed to the portrait of the leader hanging on the wall, and there were always "Quotes" in his pocket. In his opinion, it seemed to be a special medicine that could save lives in critical moments. However, whether this kind of thing can really work, or can only use forced means to coerce the soul to do something against human nature, even the officer himself could not explain clearly.

The identity verification of refugees has always been the most important thing for the Red Republican Army. In order to prevent spy infiltration, the vassals of the periphery rarely obtain the qualification to become formal citizens under the republican army. Unlike those who were forcibly imprisoned under the glory of the great leader and wanted to leave the northwest to find true freedom, the vassals of refugees are desperately trying to squeeze into the ruling circle. The attitude of the refugees and citizens about freedom and survival is completely opposite. The former is already tired of it.

The bumpy and dislocation in the wilderness are more unforgettable than anyone else’s understanding of hunger. It is not uncommon to exchange for a piece of bread for a woman, and the cruel act of using human blood to purify water and quench thirst is not a strange thing. Being able to get food every day is simply unimaginable for them. Rare food does not require physical or life as an exchange, but only requires action and verbal allegiance, no matter what the point is, it is absolutely cost-effective.

According to the classification standards of some philosophers in history, human beings are actually the product of the combination of the body and the soul.

Give up faith and personal thinking is undoubtedly a despicable act of exchanging the soul for material things. Fighting with the body, or even breaking free from the shackles of thinking at all costs, is the light of the soul being purified and rushing towards freedom.

... and so on "this" was strongly praised in many books of the old era. However, few people can think of how difficult it is to find food in harsh environments, even the authors of books or mottos themselves. They have never experienced the terrible hunger that hurts the stomach sac like a knife, nor can they do the crazy act of starving to find undigested food particles from feces. The despair of the brain that has no thoughts in it, and can give up everything just to get food, is the devil that is extremely afraid of by the wild refugees. It is also because

This distinction between the essence "the refugees and the people have completely different attitudes towards hunger and freedom. No one can understand each other, and they are even more envious and jealous of the environment they are in. The refugees would rather be killed than continue to wander in hunger, and the people would rather die than escape from the glory of the great leader. They are two kinds of people with different concepts of consciousness and thinking. Perhaps only by truly living in different desperate situations and feeling the touch of physical and mental terrifying than death can they truly change the stubborn thoughts deep in the brain.

The lieutenant knew very well that Old Man Verell wanted to become a formal citizen of the Republican Army, which was also the common wish of all newly attached refugees in the wilderness. However, the management of foreign refugees within the Republican Army was extremely strict. A person who had just obtained a vassal status wanted to become a citizen who could get food rations every day. "It was simply a dream.

"Masguli is a good girl."

The tavern owner did not look at the lieutenant's eyes and murmured on his own while sitting on the slatted bench.

An indescribable bitterness surged in the officer's heart.

According to the relevant management regulations of outsiders, all refugees who are required to become vassals must undergo pathological and identity examinations. That is, at that time, he found that there was a girl wrapped in a ragged and dirty cloth among the refugees. "Fifteen years old" had exceeded the per capita adult standard in the wasteland world. The concave and convex body indicated that her development had long been mature, and her plump breasts and slender and smooth legs were the most proud parts of her body. Although due to lack of water, a layer of dirt on the surface of her body and the skin covered by rags still maintained the delicate and smoothness that the girl should have.

When the girl took off all her clothes in front of the lieutenant as required, crossed her hands in front of her chest, and waited for the examination with shyness, the lieutenant felt that something that had been suppressed for a long time suddenly burst out from her brain. It seemed as if a beast tied to a chain of reason was barking at the prey standing in front of her, and tore the ground hard with her sharp armored claws, but she could not move forward.

This girl named Masguli hid very well. If she hadn't taken the initiative to remove all kinds of disguises, no one would have found that her face hiding under dirt and mud, which was very similar to a star in the old propaganda brochures, was soft and cute.

It was from that day that the lieutenant began to come to the tavern with all kinds of justified excuses. Because Masguli's father was Vereller. He used power to occupy the woman he liked was the patent of the superior in any era. The lieutenant could do this easily, but this kind of barbaric and domineering behavior had no chance to be displayed from beginning to end.
Chapter completed!