Orc Tyrant

The surroundings were silent, and the smoke covered the river, covered the pier, and covered the trestle bridge.

Two cargo ships burned at the mouth of the river, making the yellow flames pulsate in the thick mist, as if the whole world had become gaseous.

Shuike asked them to wait, Ford, Kerbis, the two soldiers, and the silent girl.

They were hiding in a crew residence overlooking the river bank. They all carried weapons. Except for the girl, she still didn't say a word, nor did she look at anyone.

Shuike put the gun behind him and hid behind a small shed for loading goods.

In the past, he often came to the market at Reid Port. Although most of the space at the estuary was occupied by industrial facilities, fresh seafood would always arrive. Hundreds of small boats crowded among large transport ships and floated on many piers. And beside the embankment.

But now, here is a mess.

More than one huge wave swept fishing boats into the streets, causing them to smash into houses and factories, and the roads were covered with **** and debris.

The stagnant water is even worse. It is like brown grease with corpses floating in it. Thousands of corpses blocked the port, piled up under the trestle bridge, and gathered like abandoned waste products by the surging tide.

This place is full of the smell of death-death soaked in sewage.

Shuike sat down and opened his toolkit. He took out a few things he had rescued from the bedroom and spread them out on a shabby packing box.

There is a small tin box, an tin box for rough tobacco leaves.

He hasn't smoked for a long time, he used to smoke on the battlefield.

Opening the tin box, he smelled the tobacco accumulated inside, then poured the small cloth bag in his hand and opened it.

Exactly as he remembered. A small silver compass and a black pendulum.

Well, they seem to be made of silver and obsidian, and he has never corrected anyone who said that. The obsidian is hung on a slender silver chain. He hasn't used these objects for many years—probably It has been more than ten years, but the smooth black sphere at the end of the silver chain is still warm.

The compass is made into the style of a human skull. This is an exquisite handicraft about the size of a thumb. The skull is slightly slender and slightly larger than the standard proportion of humans, suggesting that it is not designed with a human skull as a template.

The skull is actually a box, opened along the contour of the lower jaw with the help of miniature hinges, revealing the upper jaw as the dial. The inscription on the edge of the compass is extremely small and delicate. It needs a watchmaker's magnifying glass to see it clearly. Of course, this Shuike also has it.

As he moved the compass, the black and gold pointer turned briskly.

He put it down, facing north, watching the pointer trembling.

Shuike took out a small notepad from his bag and opened a new page.

The old handwriting had filled more than half of the pages. He took out the pen that came with the notepad, took off the cap, and noted the date and place.

It took a few minutes. He lifted the silver chain and let the pendulum swing slowly above the compass. He repeated this process several times and neatly recorded the angle and direction of each pendulum swing, as well as the vibration of the compass needle. The way.

He calculated the corresponding position and wrote it down.

Then he turned to the last page of the notepad, spread out a sheet of yellowed paper that had been folded and glued to the back cover, and began to study the chart above.

This is a copy left by his mysterious ancestors, copied from a chart written before the birth of human civilization.

His handwriting in the past is very different from the current one. The chart shows a wind direction chart with basic directions. This is a wonderful mystery put into the pen.

Shuike thought about the two forces that were dueling on Cusconar, and realized that they had something in common, and they had the same views on one thing, at least some of them.

"Go west..."

As he expected, they need a boat.

Shuike put these things away carefully as before, checked his gun, and then set off to find someone else.

"This one?"

Renne looked at the boat hesitantly.

"Come up quickly,"

Shuike greeted everyone.

The small boat is a fishing boat, enough to carry more than a dozen people. It has a long and slender hull and a cabin with a roof.

"Where are we going?"

Kerbis asked, but it was someone who jumped on the boat.

"Leave here."

Shuike took this time to load some boxes on the ship.

"Go far, westward."

"what?"

"West-northwest."

"why?"

Rennes still had so many questions.

"Because we have to go over there to help me carry the box."

They overturned the cabinets in the crew’s residence and found some cans, brown bread wrapped in greased paper, medical supplies and other useful things. Little Kraft and Ford took four buckets to the water tank near the port to pick them up. Drinking water.

"Should we row a boat?"

Ren glanced at the oars on the boat. .

"Yes, but we can't make a sound."

"I don't want to draw."

"I didn't let you draw either, boy, we have Ford, he won't be tired."

This young man, Ren, gradually became restless.

Shuike could see that they were all nervous, except for Annie, who was sitting on a bollard, looking at the body in the water.

Gunshots came from the inland streets of the port, as well as the sound of heavy objects moving, and wild howls.

But Shuike knows that they are not beasts.

"Go and help your friend get water."

After Shuike finished speaking, he went into the cabin to check if there were any extras.

Wren walked along the river beach toward the water tank, and he coughed as the wind swept across the dock with black smoke.

He didn't think about Irene at all, not at all.

However, she appeared suddenly, before him, as if she had emerged from the smoke.

She was smiling, she had never been so beautiful in his eyes.

"I've been looking for you, Rennes."

She urged softly and walked towards him.

"I thought I would never see you again."

Ryan was speechless, he opened his arms and walked towards her with tears in his mouth.

The little Kafka next to the water tank raised his head. He saw Renn standing at the end of the road. He saw what he was doing.

"Ryan!"

Little Kafka roared sharply.

"Ren, don't! Don't!"

He was about to rush over, but was suddenly blocked by someone.

Some people appeared on the pier, some appeared from the smoke, they were ferocious and dirty, wearing Tsing Yi.

They are skinny, as if malnourished, they have guns, they have short knives made of rusted metal.

The gun was leaning on the water tank, but he had to back away, he couldn't get the weapon.

The rebels laughed at him and drew close to him.

"kill him."

Creed Foster was the last one to emerge from the thick fog, and immediately gave his orders.