"Give me a suitable distance, god can also kill him!"

— — War Lord Zero

The dream was like a faded old photograph, shrouded in yellow.

"Hahaha, come chase me!"

"Idiot! You must come back alive!"

"What?"

You're going to propose to me when you get back?

I never said I was going to marry you. "

"Unless you have 999 roses, I will barely marry you! Hahaha!"

Laughter tinkled in the dream, soft and cheerful.

That swaying white figure was like a lily in the wind, delicate to the point of making people pity her.

An unclear face, but a pair of clear eyes flashed.

In those gentle eyes, whose figure was reflected in them?

"Li", in his dream, he gently called out a name, but there was no response.

As always, the dream was fading like a bubble, and he was about to fall back into a long, deep sleep.

But this time, something unexpected happened.

In a daze, he seemed to hear something else.

"What the hell did I think I'd find a treasure? It turns out to be a stinking man!"

"Hahaha, Hans."

Aren't you a man when you get thirsty?

"I've heard that you've done that thirteen-year-old rumba boy before."

There was a burst of raucous laughter.

"Shut up!"

Be careful that I break your chrysanthemums.

However, this brat was quite pretty when he got up.

"I've never been a handsome man in the old days, so I might be able to open it today."

As Lang laughed, he suddenly felt something touch his body.

A signal was sent out from the depths of his consciousness, and dozens of data was transmitted to every part of his body.

He didn't know how long he slept, but his movements were only about five percentage points slower than when he was at his peak.

His body shifted 30 centimeters to the side before he suddenly sat up. His hand habitually moved to his right side and a cold metal feeling came over him.

He raised his arm and thrust the cold, heavy object upward.

He slowly opened his eyes when he felt something touch him.

After a moment of discomfort, his gaze gradually focused, and he came to a wretched face.

Judging from his brown hair and pale skin, he was a Caucasian.

And now, the face's owner, his chin pressed against a bright black barrel, his eyes intertwined with a mixture of fear and anger.

"God, he's awake."

"Hey, kid."

"Let go of Hans or we will be impolite with you!"

Voices came from behind the white man, and he looked past the hostage in his hands.

They were a dozen or so men dressed as miners, black and white, even two yellow men.

They had weapons in their hands, if spades and hammers could be called weapons.

There was no doubt that they were targeting him with all the tools that could show violence.

He was silent, unable to sort out what was known as memory in the chaos of his mind.

He didn't know where he was or who he was facing right now. He didn't even remember who he was.

Faintly, a picture of him in a neat military uniform flashed through his mind.

Perhaps, he was a soldier?

Maybe!

It was an unanswerable question, but even in his thoughts his hand was as firm as iron, and he held in it a tiny automatic machine gun with a black barrel that did not move even a millimeter.

Anyone would have to come out. This mini-machine gun could instantly turn Hans's head into a hornet's nest.

With the barrel of the gun pointed at him, Hans' entire body was drenched in sweat.

What he hated was that not only did he not move, he didn't even dare to change his posture to make himself more comfortable.

It would lead to a misunderstanding, and in the next second hundreds of bullets would turn his head into a rotten balloon.

The confrontation lasted for a minute before Hans' legs began to tremble.

Seeing that the situation was about to unravel, there was a commotion in the crowd, and the various races surrounding him drew back to one side, and an old man came in.

This man clearly belonged to two different classes than the miners.

He wore a worn leather jacket and a gray blue tweed shirt.

Beneath him was a pair of greasy jeans and a pair of black military boots.

This sort of collocation was incongruous, but when compared to these completely naked miners, it was like the difference between clouds and mud.

The old man was smoking a pipe, his eyes glinting venomously as he wandered between Hans and himself.

Finally, in a deep voice, he said, "Let him go, Survivor.

You can use a gun, and that's good enough to show you're a soldier.

I don't need a warrior like you. I don't have to bother with a dog like Hans, do I? "

Despite the gun pressed against his chin, Hans's eyes flashed with venom.

He opened his mouth, and in a soft but slightly hoarse voice, he said, "I, how can I trust you?"

Old Jack blew out a cloud of smoke and said slowly, "In this base, I am God. No one dares to disobey my voice, so don't worry, these bastards won't dare to cause trouble for you.

"Besides, you have a gun in your hand. Even though it's just a slight charge from the old days, it's enough to shoot down anyone, including me."

"Only if you kill us all, no one will tell a survivor like you what the world is like now."

Old Jack added.

The barrel of the gun left Hans' chin bit by bit.

The latter's legs gave way and he fell to the ground. The miners behind him quickly went up to him and pulled him down.

He sat up straighter, the submachine gun on the side of his thigh.

The gun was still pointed at them, ready to fire at any moment.

Old Jack, however, seemed to ignore the machine gun. He walked up to it, took out his pipe, and said, "Welcome to the end of the world, but life has to go on.

Do you mind telling me your name, survivor? "

Name?

To be honest, he couldn't remember.

However, he noticed that on the item that he was on, there was the word "ZERO" written on it.

Thus, he raised his head and said the name that would be praised by countless people, "My name is Zero."

"Zero," old Jack said, noting that the man named Zero had a pair of eyes of different colors.

His left eye was black, no different from an ordinary yellow man's.

However, his right eye was a dazzling gold color.

Its eyes were like those of a dragon. They seemed to be made of gold, but at the same time, they had silver markings on them.

It was as though he was from the same era as him, and the aura he exuded was extremely mysterious.