light, short, scattered

Chapter 79 "War Correspondent"

My name is Jock and I am a war correspondent.

My job is to be on the front line of the war and bring the most authentic war news to the people of my country.

War must be bloody and cruel.

And my job is dangerous and difficult.

In my country, there are only a few war correspondents like me.

Because no normal person would choose the most dangerous job in the world.

And I enjoyed it because I wanted to be a soldier since I was a kid.

But my life experience destined me to be unable to serve any country.

20 years ago, the Golden Sun and the Blackhawks were allies.

Jinri is a huge country, while Black Eagle is a slightly backward developing country.

My mother is a nomad on the Black Eagle border, and my father is a businessman on the Black Eagle Silk Road.

The Black Eagle Empire is a country famous for raising black eagles, and only the Black Eagle Empire is suitable for raising a huge black eagle.

This huge black hawk feather is the best material for making quills in the world.

And my father is a businessman in this field.

He exchanged the equivalent currency for the feathers in the Black Eagle Empire and then transported them back to the Golden Sun Empire.

It was processed in the Jinri Empire, and part of the floc can be found after the quills are cut.Empty the floc inside the quills and use a carving knife to further sharpen the quills.

Use a carving knife to drill a groove in the middle of the pen tip. This groove is to prevent ink from flowing away when not writing.

Then use a carving knife to score a score from the groove to the tip of the nib. The grooves and scores allow the ink to flow to the nib smoothly.

The quills are filled with fine ink, which slowly flows out through the incisions.

Then use the tip of the tube to scratch the paper and write beautiful words.

This kind of high-end quill pen was sold throughout the Kim and Sun Empire through his father's hands.

Even in today's modern world with advanced technology, it is still a symbol of luxury that the rich carry in their hands.

My father also met my mother because of this business and brought my mother from a nomadic nation to a reinforced concrete society.

and gave birth to me, although I did not like all this feather business at all.

But the proudest moment for my father was when he took out a quill and handed it to the other person to write.

Of course, this deal didn't last long.

It was banned by the country until the war.

This war was started by the uneven exchange of national debt between the Kim-Japanese and Black Hawk empires. The developing countries were becoming stronger and stronger, and the Kim-Japanese Empire wanted to suppress them.

As soon as the 63 unequal agreements of the Kim-Japan Empire came out, the friendship between the two countries disappeared.

The war broke out and all ties between the two countries were directly severed.

The Silk Road has become an end, and there are corpses everywhere.

My mother had no choice but to stay in the Jinri Empire because she married her father into Jinri.

But my mother has always been concerned about the distant Black Eagle Empire, but she may not be able to see her relatives again in this life.

When I was a child, it was the year after the war started.

My father was imprisoned for the crime of promoting another country.

All the Black Hawk Quills his father had stored in the warehouse were confiscated, and he was immediately sentenced to death due to the huge number.

Those quills were originally a symbol of luxury.

But after the war started, it became a symbol of betrayal.

After his father's death, almost none of his relatives recognized his mother who belonged to the Black Hawk Empire.

But my mother could only bear the humiliation and bear the burden of raising me. My mother knew almost nothing except housework.

He spends most of his time working as an employee in other people's homes, and in his spare time, he uses dove feathers to make pens.

This is the only craft that my father left to my mother.

When I was growing up, other children played with toys and wore new clothes.

But I could only play with the quills made by my mother and sleep on a dove feather pillow.

That smell has been my nightmare since childhood.

Fortunately, I studied well, maybe it has something to do with these quills.

Because my mother often told me that these quills were my father.

But I really didn’t like writing and drawing at all. When I was a child, I decided to join the army.

But when I grew up, I realized that because of my parents’ embarrassing status, the army of the Kim and Sun Empire would not want me.

I graduated from college and became a journalist.

When I saw the special profession of war correspondent, I joined this industry almost without hesitation.

In an already dangerous industry, I was allowed to join with almost no review.

My photographer and I are a team.

Although my mother has always opposed me doing this job, she always prepares my luggage for me every time I go away.

And he told me if I encounter nomads from the Black Eagle Empire.

Ask the people named Mojito and tell them that Adie misses them.

But as far as I know, after the war, all the nomads moved into the villages to settle down.It was never easy to find, but it has always been on my mind.

Of course, war reporters are not as dangerous as imagined.

If a war reporter encounters a war between two sides, as long as he does not take action and waits for the war to end, nothing will happen.

If one side defeats the other, it doesn't matter which army the war correspondent is captured by.

As long as the documents are complete, they will be released, because this profession of reporting on the war is also respected by the people.

The borders of the Black Eagle Empire are endless grasslands, which used to be a paradise for nomads.

Of course, just before.

Yesterday, we boarded an army supply truck and planned to return to the Kim-Il-Japanese Empire.

I already have the latest battle report in hand, enough to make headlines.

But when passing by a small village on the border of the Black Eagle Empire to rest, I heard some soldiers in the army saying that there was a murderer in the village.

I was immediately interested, but the photographer didn't dare to accompany me inside.

He said he was tired, and that madmen during war times were scarier than soldiers.

In fact, my biggest goal is not to take pictures, but to go to the village to fulfill my mother’s wish.

See if there are any people with the surname Mojito in the village, and send my thoughts to my mother.

I had no choice but to leave my bag and made an agreement with the cameraman to return in an hour.

Carrying a camera, he walked in single-handedly.

There was scenery along the way, but I had no intention of enjoying it.

This is almost a village that has been renovated from the grassland, and the houses are all temporary board houses.

When we arrived at the village, there was no one there in broad daylight.The villagers were probably afraid of the murderer and were hiding.

In this kind of war, the army does not even have time to confront the enemy.

Not to mention that the army took time out to help the villagers deal with this murderous riot, also because of the war of course.Riots have become natural and insignificant.

Just when I was disappointed and about to return to the camp and leave, I noticed two figures at the corner.

One stood there in panic, while the other held a dagger with a ferocious look on his face.

I think he must be a murderer.

The panicked man stumbled back, tripped, and fell heavily to the ground.

When the man with the dagger was about to pounce, he glanced at me, turned around and ran away in the other direction.

I started shouting and chased after him, while the shaky camera kept recording blurryly.

My first reaction was to save people, but it might be more effective if I could hold down the killer.

I thought about how I could run faster without the camera.

Until I threw the camera away at the next corner and rushed towards it.

The murderer holding the dagger was pinned down by me and kept struggling under my crotch.

I took his dagger and killed him.

I think the murderer was killed by me. . .

And I walked aside and just picked up the camera and planned to save the video.

A group of villagers also arrived.

I waved my hands to explain the situation, but I was pushed to the ground on the spot.

I hurriedly tried to explain everything and thought about becoming the hero of this village.

Then ask if there are any people with the surname Mojito in this village.

But before I could say a few words, I was pushed into the local prison together with the people who had just fallen to the ground.

The crime is an accomplice, and the evidence is the camera in my hand.

It turned out that the camera could capture some corpses hiding in the grass, in corners, and around corners along the way.

But I was thinking about my mother's wish and had no intention of waiting and watching.

And the panicked man was the murderer, who had his dagger taken away from him when he was killing the last lone person in the village.

The murderer was not thinking normally, but when he saw me chasing and helping him kill the last lone villager.

He thought of me as a dangerous person like himself and talked about it.

And just like his confession, I really killed a helpless villager.

The murderer also affectionately called me his partner when recording his confession, hoping to meet me in prison again.

As for my claimed identity as a reporter and my other story, I cannot be trusted at all because of my identity as a member of the Kim-Il-Island Empire.

The most important press card was still in the bag and was given to the photographer for safekeeping.

The only thing left around me to prove my identity was a camera, not even a pen or paper.

The camera can also be a practical tool for showing off one's perversion online after killing someone.

As for the supply truck and photographer, they had already left because the one-hour time limit had expired and they could no longer wait to confirm that I had been killed.

The camera clearly recorded the entire process of me chasing down a refugee, and it was played on the local TV station in the Black Hawk Empire.

At the same time, in the Kim and Sun Empire, the TV station was showing the battle report brought back from the front line hosted by me.

(End of this chapter)